Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As was typical of her habit, Ayame was in the middle of stalking Sakata Gintoki. That behavior had been consistent for all of the Gintama series, and just because the show had ended didn't mean that she was going to stop doing what she always had done in the past.

She held a fundamental belief that eventually he was going to cave into her someday. Ayame knew she could find the right words or the right combination to unlock his heart if she tried hard enough. Whatever happened after she captured his heart, she didn't think about it too deeply. She was singular-minded that way.

It was why when she found him and Hasegawa hanging out at the strip club, she wasn't overly offended that the two of them were staring at half naked women dancing on the pole. Men were men, and she rationalized it by assuming that Gintoki would stop such behaviors if he finally saw her as the perfect girlfriend.

They shared a bucket of popcorn, and Gintoki seemed mostly unimpressed by the offerings on display. The homeless guy, on the other hand, cheered and gawked awkwardly, especially one of the women began to take off her outfit, piece by piece.

"Say, Gintoki, do you think those women have someone at home?"

Gintoki took a handful of popcorn, chewed it, and said, "Probably not. What kind of sleazy guy is okay with his girlfriend stripping nude for strangers?"

"Hmm... Well, I mean, you could ask that of us since we're the strangers in this situation."

"I'm a single guy," Gintoki explained easily. "It doesn't harm anyone if I look at her. But if she had a boyfriend, he probably wouldn't want her to work at a place like this."

"What if one of them wanted to date you, though?"

Gintoki considered it, knowing that Hasegawa was talking about a fantasy. "I mean, if it wasn't a serious relationship, then sure. I have no interest in dating virgins. I like an experienced, sexy woman who knows what she wants as long as I don't have to get into any emotional entanglements or requirements."

"So you don't need monogamy?"

"Not in a relationship like that. I don't want any complications. Girls who don't have a lot of experience are clingy and needy. So it's best if I can be with someone who doesn't need me all the time and doesn't need me to be her one and only."

That stopped Ayame from listening to the rest of the conversation. It wasn't very often that Gintoki ever spoke of the women he liked in a non-joking fashion. Sure, he once mentioned he was an S, but Ayame had never seen him demonstrate that sort of deviant behavior towards any girl, not even the solo episode girls that would never re-appear later in the series.

In fact it was often a long-running joke that the samurai was destined to be forever alone. Which was not really true because Ayame knew there were other women that Gintoki could have had (including her) if he wanted to. But he didn't seem to be interested in dating any of them.

She had watched the entire Gintama series, looking intently for any hints that he was interested in her, or the other female characters of Gintama. The closest woman he'd expressed a romantic interest in was Tsukuyo, to her eternal chagrin. (The weather lady was the other one, but she didn't really count for much as she was a celebrity; unattainable to anyone who wasn't also rich and famous). Ayame had howled at her TV set once she'd watched the OVA episodes of the Love Potion Arc, and it genuinely pained her to see her beloved say to Tsukuyo, "If it's what you want, I wouldn't mind being yours and yours alone". Even though the words were said under the influence of a drug, the fact that it had come out of Gintoki's mouth at all had devastated the purple-haired kunoichi.

Luckily, Sorachi hadn't written an ending for the two of them.

Ayame figured that she was still in the running for Gintoki's heart, considering that everyone in the series remained hopelessly single. That's what she told herself every time she was near the samurai, who had captured her heart for years. She had no intent of letting him go anytime soon, not even for her friends. Shinobi never fought fair and she didn't intend on doing so.

There was one problem with the conversation that Gintoki and MADAO had, though...

Ayame was troubled to hear that Gintoki wasn't interested in virgins. It ran contrary to what she knew about him - because he was the kind of person marry someone if he'd taken their virtue. After all, that was how she fell for him. He had a sense of honor about it - a pugnacious sort of white knighted chivalry that women somehow respected in the end, no matter how lewd or crude his words were.

But at the same time, it made sense. He distanced himself from a lot of people if they wanted to get close to him. He'd left for two years without telling anybody where he was going, disappearing off the face of the planet.

Even though he was a popular guy who solved a lot of other people's problems in the show, you couldn't really say that anyone knew him beyond Yorozuya Odd Jobs. If you called him for a job, he'd go through immense lengths to finish the job, but you still wouldn't know much more than the surface of his personality after it was all over.

The issue here was that Ayame, for all intents and purposes, was still a virgin. She didn't think Gintoki would know such a thing about her because of her provocative outfits and her penchant for S&M. But if things ever crossed into bed territory - she knew he'd find out. It'd never gotten that far because he normally threw her out of the window by the time she got in close contact with him.

I like an experienced, sexy woman who knows what she wants as long as I don't have to get into any emotional entanglements or requirements.

Ayame was sure that she could handle not getting into any emotional entanglements. That was part of her job as a kunoichi, which required her to keep emotions out of her job. You couldn't be a successful shinobi if you broke down every time you killed someone. She was one of the best ninjas in the city, and her reputation rested on her ability to get the job done without any complications.

But she was far from experienced in the world of, well, sex. Which was pretty ironic considering she was constantly horny in the series all the time for one person - and one person only. Stalking one person on her days off meant that she never really had the chance to explore her sexual inclinations with someone else. And it was Gintoki himself who had awakened those base urges inside of her in the first place.

She had never considered having sex with someone else before in order to become more appealing. It seemed counterproductive.

It would certainly be a betrayal of her morals. Ayame had wanted of course to lose her virginity to Gintoki and had assumed he would have taken the lead once he fell for her charms.

But now that it was an obstacle to him, she felt frustrated about the matter. How was she supposed to mold herself to the woman he wanted? She had emulated all the traits of these sexy, experienced vixens she'd seen in the porn magazines, and it still wasn't enough to seduce Gintoki.

How many times did you have to have sex with someone to become experienced, anyway? She left the strip club, somewhat disheartened by the conversation she had eavesdropped on. Was it possible that it was her true lack of experience turned off Gintoki? If so, why had he never told her? She would have done anything to become the woman of his dreams.

To make things worse, she knew she wouldn't have been in this situation if it wasn't for someone else. It had been years ago, too...

Hattori Zenzou knew it was dangerous to pick up his cell phone once he saw the number flashing on his screen. The Oniwabanshu, in times of peace, had no need for the amount of secrecy that it once did, and so it had been Wakikaoru's idea for every shinobi to own a cell phone.

We don't need to be so old fashioned to find jobs waiting all day under the bridge, she said, and since she was relatively wealthy, she had presented a mobile for both him and Sarutobi. It had surprised him that Wakikaoru was willing to be so charitable towards her arch-enemy, but he supposed that she felt sorry for Sarutobi at times.

"Call me," Wakikaoru mouthed to him, but he never bothered as there was never any need to. Most of the time, the kunoichi would send him pictures of her flower arrangements from her shop that he ignored.

Sarutobi on the other hand almost never called him, unless it was something super annoying like asking him what was in his fridge. Sometimes she liked to crash in his house for a free meal or to watch his TV on her days off, which he didn't enjoy much. But then again, it wasn't often and they had a sort of a casual relationship that was tolerated mutually - he knew that she was still angry at him that he'd left the organization for two years, and he was aware that for all her flaws, he wasn't perfect either.

"Hi," he said neutrally, preparing for another request for his fried rice. Instead -

"I need to talk to you in private," she said, her voice was flat.

"I'm delivering a pizza," he said. Which was a lie, but he didn't really want to spend the rest of his evening cooking for her in the first place, and -

Her voice cut through his thoughts. "So deliver it, and get back to your compound. I'll be there in an hour."

"Tch. So bossy," he grumbled, but thankfully she hung up before she could hear him.

He decided that he was hungry enough to get started on cooking dinner, and with a sigh of resignation, Zenzou headed to the kitchen. He knew there was a small container of natto located somewhere in the fridge, and he knew exactly what she liked to eat.

Being that they were childhood friends, there was no need for formalities when she arrived at the dinner table. Zenzou silently handed her a bowl of hot fried rice, and she took it from him without saying so much as a thank you.

"Itadakimasu," they both intoned, and then there were a few minutes of quiet chewing before Sarutobi put down her chopsticks. "Do you remember that training we used to do at the ninja academy?"

"There were a lot of them," he said. "Which one are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know," Sarutobi said, and now she was fidgeting. "That one we had to do once we turned sixteen. Um... "

"You mean the seduction classes?" he asked, and noted with some amusement that Sarutobi had turned bright red. "What about them?"

"Right, well. It's just that... " her voice trailed off.

He calmly took a sip of his tea, waiting. She only turned redder.

"It's just that... " Sarutobi took a deep breath. "I never actually got to... um... complete it."

"Well of course you didn't," Zenzou said, somewhat annoyed at the statement. It had been a complete fiasco as far as he had been concerned.

Once upon a time, it had been expected for every shinobi to be able to seduce a target while remaining unswayed by such temptations. A hundred years ago, it was more relevant when there had been regions of war-torn lands constantly under siege by the daimyos. Espionage and honeypot traps were the easiest ways to find out the secrets of hidden castles.

But at the time where Sarutobi and him had been teenagers, the requirement in Iga had been considerably diluted from its former iteration; the students were expected to pick a random classmate from a lottery ticket to have sex with, rather than to seduce someone coldly for a mission. Once both people had verified that it happened, they would have been granted a passing grade, moving onto the next unit. Some were thrilled at the opportunity to lose their virginity, but the girls in particular were horrified.

When his father had spun the lottery circle of names in class, it turned out that Zenzou matched with her, and neither of them had been particularly happy about it. Zenzou's teenage bedroom back then had contained a futon in the middle with not much to write home about, and neither of them could barely look at each other the night 'it' was supposed to happen. There was nothing seductive about it; it was just two people who wanted to be anywhere else but there in that room.

Sarutobi had started crying after a few minutes and said she only wanted to do it with someone she loved. It was a complete turn off to him even if he found her attractive at the time. And so, they had reached a compromise where they mutually agreed that 'it' had happened when questioned by their teacher, but they wouldn't have to do anything to each other. It had set the tone of their relationship for the years ahead, which in some respect was probably for the best.

"Right, and it's a problem now," Sarutobi said. Blushing, she admitted, "I'm a virgin."

This did not really surprise Zenzou in the least as she had the least attractive personality on the planet. Only an idiot would consider it a good idea to be involved with her; it was a reason why he begrudgingly respected Gintoki for refusing her advances.

"So? Why are you telling me?"

"I want you to take my virginity."

He choked on his tea, and sputtered all over the table. Coughing, he hurriedly wiped the table as he regained his bearings. "What the fuck, Sarutobi."

"I heard Gintoki say that he doesn't like virgins," she said, still pink. "And - I figured - if I want to be with him someday - "

"So you want to sleep with me now?" Zenzou said, incredulous. "Sarutobi, you're the one who started crying when you had the chance to."

"I know, but it's not like I have any other choices!" she protested. "I mean, I could go hook up with someone using those dating apps, right? But that didn't feel right, either."

"So you decided that I'm your next best option? I'm your boss, you know!" He wasn't sure if he was offended or flattered. Talking about sex with his childhood friend wasn't necessarily a taboo subject because Sarutobi had no qualms about dressing in lingerie in the middle of the day, spewing obscenities about masochism here and there. But the truth was, he knew he was not exactly her cup of tea.

"Yeah, but at least it wasn't something we haven't thought about once before!" Sarutobi looked like she was about to cry. "After all, this sort of thing could have happened in the past, and we were supposed to act like it wasn't a big deal back then."

"But it was a big deal," he reminded her. "You said, your own words, that you wanted to do it with someone that you love."

"But that person doesn't want to be with me unless I'm experienced," Sarutobi said, and now tears started welling up in her eyes. He was starting to feel really sorry for her now, hating the way she looked when she cried. "What would you do in my position?"

"I would take the hint," Zenzou said bluntly, even though he didn't like how harsh his voice sounded. "That guy doesn't want you no matter what you do, so you might as well move on from him. But you shouldn't rope me into it. I've got nothing to do with you or him."

(It was advice that he personally never took, but he wasn't going to tell her that.)

Sarutobi stilled, and a silence developed between the two of them. An ominous sense of foreboding came across him, as her facial expressions closed off. "Fine," she said coldly, and wiped her mouth with a napkin, getting up from the table. "Thanks for the meal, boss."

She opened a window and jumped to the roof; he could hear her footsteps on his ceiling, and then they faded away.

Zenzou sighed. It wasn't the first time he had displeased her; they had a lifetime of disappointing each other in various ways. Although he had to admit, this one was new to him. To turn down a proposition of sex from her was ... unusual, to say the least.

But he couldn't really understand the logic of it. She didn't like him, and he... Well, it wasn't like he ever had a chance with her in the first place. And anyways, she wasn't his type at all.

What was the expectation here? If it was all said and done, he couldn't imagine a worse situation where Sarutobi would be pining for someone else while he was in her arms.

In fact, that sort of defeated the point of sex. She had the right idea to abstain from unwanted, undesired sex in the first place years ago - so why was it different now? Nothing had changed between them, except they were older and more jaded. At the end of the day, he was her boss - an annoying classmate, tolerable friend at the best of times, and most of the time just a regular stick-in-the-mud. Even if he tried, he couldn't change his image that she held for him.

The proposition would continue to haunt him as he carefully packed the rest of their dinner into the leftover containers. If she came back to his estate, at least there would be something for her to eat in the fridge.

Despite herself, Ayame had felt rejected by her boss. It cut into her bitterly as she ran all the way home on the rooftops of Edo. She knew, logically, that nobody wanted to be with someone who had rejected them in the first place. But she had assumed it was mutual back then - that he wasn't ready like he was, to lose his virginity to her in a passionless encounter. His two obsessions back then hadn't even revolved around girls. He only wanted to read JUMP, and to defeat his father.

Someone like the loser of the academy wouldn't have caught his notice. Her eyesight had been horrific before her eyeglasses had been modified. And he was a prodigy back then, unstoppable and arrogant. After all he was the son of one of the leaders in Iga - a prince regent of sorts.

It was only in their later years that Zenzou ever bothered to acknowledge her as a worthy shinobi, one fit to serve the Oniwabanshu. As they grew older, the less she was fond of him, and their relationship had become professional and stilted.

It didn't quite mean she forgot their roots entirely. He was still a loser in his own way too, but at least he didn't seem to care if she casually dropped into his estate, or to break an occasional vase if she tripped over one. Well, he did care, but it wasn't something for her to deal with.

They tolerated each other, mutually for their history, and then anything after that was simply a byproduct of being able to survive this long in the business. Most shinobi ended up dead by the age of thirty, and the sentimentality of "friendship" or "comrades" tended to ruin missions if someone was caught in the fray of enemy fire.

Gintoki, in a way, had changed their relationship to each other subtly. She hadn't understood the warmth of companionship until he had come into her life, and then he made her realize that it was important that she had someone to care for. Even if her feelings were unrequited, it still felt as if she had something to live for. A better hope for the future. It made her also realize that Zenzou was important to her too, if only because he had seen the person she once was, a long time ago.

Such thoughts were racing through her head as she finally landed on the doorstep of her apartment. She didn't stop here very often; her preferred location was in Gintoki's attic.

It was empty. She turned on the light, and sighed to herself. Her stomach grumbled.

I'm still hungry...

Thankfully, there were some instant noodle packets in her cupboard, and Ayame shuffled to the water kettle to boil some water. She filled it up, and waited for it to finish.

Her mobile buzzed. Absentmindedly, she opened it, expecting a text from one of the Diamond Perfume girls - but instead, it was a short message from Zenzou.

Call me when you see this.

- Z

Anxiety spiked up, and Ayame bit her fingernail as she contemplated what he could have to say. Was he there to yell at her again? Curse her for wasting his time? Or was it just another mission where they pretended they didn't know each other?

She took a deep breath, and dialed his number. There were two rings, and then somebody picked up the phone.

"Hey, boss."

To her surprise, his voice was calm and measured.

"Hey, Sarutobi."

- tbc

Chapter Text

There were two types of common advice that men tended to give their sons.

The first one went along like this:

"Don't get married."

And the second one was:

"Don't stick your dick in crazy."

For most of his life, Zenzou had faithfully followed those two adages. He had successfully fended off all the marriage offers from the ninja clans, claiming that he was too busy focusing on financing a museum to house his collection of Shonen Jump. And as for the sex thing - if he really needed to get his rocks off, there was usually a nice and sane ugly girl at the Yoshiwara club somewhere who was more than happy to acquiesce to a night in a seedy love hotel, no strings attached. Although he treated them with the cavalier charm of a benefactor, they all understood that he wouldn't be interested in anything deeper than indulging in his strange fetish. It was part of the reasons why he maintained a VIP membership to the fuglies club in the first place.

Sarutobi, on the other hand, most definitely qualified as "crazy". He knew it, the Gintama audience/cast knew it, and Gintoki knew it. Pretty much everyone with common sense could see that pursuing a bonafide relationship with her would result in a complete and utter trainwreck.

However, he rationalized his decisions this way:

1. It was better for her to try doing it with someone she knew. He knew how seedy men could get when it came to a girls' virginity. It wasn't that Sacchan couldn't handle herself when it came to that, but he felt she was far too sentimental to throw away something she had abstained from - however unintentionally - all her life.

2. Most of their colleagues had already assumed that he was the one who took her v-card. Even if it was a lie - at least it meant it wasn't actually out of character for her to follow through with him in the picture.

3. She was probably going to chicken out for the second time once she realized she had to get naked in front of him - and then give up on the idea. This would be the most likely and favorable outcome for everyone involved.

And last but not least, 4. There was actually no way in hell he could convince her not to do This, no matter how colossally stupid of an idea it was. Once Sarutobi had gotten it into her mind to do something, nothing would be able to stop her, not even Marishiten himself. If he actually ended up sleeping with her, at least he could put it into writing that she had requested this.

So when Sarutobi picked up the phone, he was more than prepared to make his case in her favor.

"I changed my mind. I wrote a contract stipulating my terms and conditions for what you asked," he said, courteously. "If you'd like to come over and review it tomorrow, you can take home the fried rice leftovers. It's taking up too much room in my fridge."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause. "There's a catch, isn't there. I know you."

"No catch, just terms and conditions."

"I bet you're just going to force me sharpen all your kunai for free, aren't you? Or buy a years' supply of Preparation H."

"Good idea, actually. But no. I just figured that it's best to set up some boundaries before someone gets hurt. You've already injured my ass too many times."

That was enough exposition in Zenzou's opinion for him to hang up on her, and quickly flick the settings on his phone to Do Not Disturb. He'd deal with the angry voicemails later, and shuffled into his room to read the latest copy of Shonen Jump Weekly.

He wasn't going to deal with his subordinate more than he had to already.

"Well? What do you think?"

Ayame wanted to throw her cup of coffee at her sick bastard of a boss.

"No sleepovers allowed? You have an estate, Zenzou. You have at least fifty rooms I could crash in after doing the deed."

"My air conditioning bills are getting too high."

"You can afford them!"

"What, you want me to be your boyfriend?"

The sharp tone of his query struck Ayame like a bucket of ice.

Of course. This was supposed to be clinical. A means to an end. If she spent the entire night with him, that would imply that there was something more to it than getting their rocks off. He was only pointing out that any emotional hangups would ruin her goal of attaining Gintoki.

Miffed, she turned over another page of his terms and conditions. She knew her boss was meticulous and highly detail oriented, but having a legal document just to stipulate the terms of conditions for a sexual agreement was insane. Even the high-end escorts in Yoshiwara didn't bother to put anything officially on paper, and they were the ones who billed their clients!

Participants will inform the other party if they choose to pursue other sexual interests, due to health and safety concerns.

Well at least this requirement made sense. Although something in her gut twisted, thinking about her boss being involved with someone else. She decided to ignore that for the time being, and continued reading the rest of the contract. At least her sexual interest in Gintoki was one-sided.

Participants will not spend time with each other outside of work or activities requested which are limited to foreplay, sexual recreation, and aftercare.

She was pretty sure he was trying to stop her from visiting his house on her off-days. That he could reconfigure it into keeping a purely sexual agreement about only sex was very ninja-like of him.

Her boss was still sipping his coffee, as she flipped through another page. He'd put a list of sexual activities where she could mark down Yes, No, or Maybe. It was probably for the best that anal sex was off the list - not that she had any interest in it. Pegging wasn't on it either, for obvious reasons.

She bit the end of her calligraphy pen, and hesitantly checked Yes for blowjobs and cunnilingus. She checked another Yes for penetrative sex.

She hovered a bit over the more kinky stuff, somewhat loathe to reveal her interests in front of her boss. But well... if she wanted more experience, she'd have to be truthful. And anyways, he probably knew most of it already - she wasn't that secretive about what turned her on.

Overstimulation? Yes.

Shibari? A major yes.

Chains and whips? An embarrassing yes.

Dirty talk and degradation? Ayame bit her lip. It would have been super hot if Gintoki did it, but she wasn't sure if it would actually work with someone who had, y'know. Hemorrhoids. He just didn't command that sort of respect for her. She put a No on that one.

The rest of the list was fairly easy, including specifying if she was a dominant, submissive, or switch. Ayame was pretty sure she was a switch - there were aspects of the sub and domme personalities that appealed to her equally. But she couldn't be certain until she actually put it into practice.

The last page was fairly simple.

This arrangement may be ended at any time by either party. Upon termination, no further sexual activity is expected. Both parties will agree to respect each other's boundaries moving forward.

Zenzou had already marked his part of the contract - he'd stamped his family crest with his name on it.

Rich asshole, Ayame thought to herself. She scrubbed her signature at the bottom of the page next to his, and shoved it back on his coffee table.

"Here. I signed it."

He took it without commenting on her irritation. "Great."

"So, when should we start?"

A blue eye flickered up to meet hers. "That's up to you, Sarutobi. Since this is your idea, you can set the frequency. But, I'd prefer it to be at your place. My neighbors don't like hearing a lot of noise at night."

Ayame swallowed. She was wondering why it all felt like a trap. He was really too calm for all of this.

"What's in it for you?"

Zenzou shrugged. "You asked. I'm delivering. Plus, we're grown-ups, right? Lots of other people do this type of thing once in a while."

"But you objected to it in the first place. What changed your mind?"

"I figured that if you played these games with someone else, you'd end up crying again." Zenzou took another sip of his coffee. "At least with me, you can be disappointed and yell all you want without making a fool of yourself."

"... What kind of an answer is that?"

He only rolled his eyes, and she wasn't bothered enough to inquire much further into it, already irritated by him as a person.

Things moved in a blur after that. She sent him a clean bill of health from the doctor's office, and likewise. Checking each other's schedules only took a minute as missions were in short supply, so it wasn't long until the day came to actually do the deed. She rose up early to mark the occasion.

No one had ever been to her apartment before for various reasons. Ayame never enjoyed spending much time at her place - to her, it was only somewhere to sleep in between missions. Additionally, she would have never invited her friends to come visit her there, much preferring to give herself an open invitation to visit wherever they were located. If it happened to be Gintoki's apartment, so be it.

Knowing her boss was a clean freak, she vacuumed her whole apartment twice; thankfully, it didn't take too long as her living quarters was tiny. Then, after putting away all her clothes that had been hanging for the last week into her closet, she then washed the dishes, cleaned the bathroom, and aired out her futon.

All while doing her chores, she was distracted. In the bath, Ayame was fidgeting, and second-guessing all of her decisions. Wondering if this was a good idea.

She had felt more confident when discussing the clinical details of what was supposed to happen. It seemed simple at the time, like a math equation to be solved. She needed experience, and there was at least a reasonable way to get that experience from someone who compartmentalized everything in his life.

But now the reality was crashing all around her now.

She remembered sitting in Zenzou's room more than a decade ago, terrified. The feeling was familiar to her now, but now that she was a proper grown up, she resolved to herself that she'd get past her inhibitions this time.

And if she was being perfectly honest, she was hoping she'd at least enjoy the experience.

(Not that she actually expected a better outcome.)

She let out a big sigh.

She really wasn't ready for any of this.

Maybe she should stop. Prove her boss right. Chicken out forever, and hopelessly opine for Gintoki while also getting nowhere to the object of her true affections.

No. That wouldn't do.

I can't think like this! she told herself, steeling herself for the worst outcome. I have something to prove to myself.

She stepped out of the tub, drying herself off with a towel. A quick blowout commenced with her hairdryer, and Ayame tied up her hair so she wouldn't mess it up.

She'd decided not to bother with makeup, considering he'd already seen her dolled up before and had no interest in her as a woman. She owned a lot of lingerie, but opted for a simple pair of black panties and bra. She finished her outfit by donning a lavender silk robe on top; the result was sexy, but approachable. A pattern of irises ran from the top to the bottom of the fabric, making it one of her favorites. By the time she finished dressing up, it was already evening.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, and she held her breath as she pressed the buzzer, letting him in at the front gate. When her boss opened her door, she was half hoping it would have been anyone else. The mailman. The salespeople who thought she wanted another magazine subscription. The nosy neighbor who wanted to know why she was coming inside at such late hours.

Anyone but him.

Zenzou didn't bother to knock as he came into her apartment; he was carrying a plastic bag full of booze. Ostensibly it was because he didn't want to be here any more than she did, but for some sick reason unknown to her, he'd agreed and followed through with her demands.

"Did you light the aphrodisiac?" he asked.

"Yeah." They had mutually agreed that it would have been best practice to get past the weirdness of, well, fucking someone you rejected in the past.

"Good."

He gave a cursory look around. "You could afford a bigger place if you wanted to," he commented.

"It's good enough for me," Ayame retorted, even though she was suddenly grateful for the snarkiness. "Not everybody was born into a rich family."

She could feel him rolling his eyes. Then he changed the subject. "Do you have any ice?"

She pointed to her fridge, which thankfully had an ice cube tray filled halfway. "I'll meet you in the bedroom." She figured boozing was part of the foreplay. Might as well cut to the chase of it.

There was a small table on top of a rug, not too far from her futon. When he came into her room, he placed his usual whiskey on the rocks on one of her coasters, and for her, he'd picked a moderately strong plum wine. Something appropriately potent, but nothing that would get her drunk.

Ayame couldn't tell what he was thinking, troubling her.

She took a gulp of her drink, and then decided to finish the rest of it in one go. Regret hit her as soon as it stung the back of her throat.

"Nervous?"

"A little bit."

He tilted his head, and one of his blue eyes looked straight at her. "You can still say no to all of this, y'know. It's in our contract."

"No, I'm fine, Boss." Except that she was lying, and he probably knew it, too.

"Okay." It was his turn now to take a swig of his drink, and he swirled the glass before polishing it off, mirroring her actions. The ice clinked against the sides, and she wondered if he was steeling his nerves just the same as she was.

He set his empty drink on the table, and took a look at her futon - the one where they were supposed to do unspeakable things to each other. Then he turned his attention to her, gauging her for a moment before giving her a direction.

"Close your eyes."

Ayame did so obediently, because she had no idea of what to expect. She hadn't asked her boss specifically if he'd had lots of experience in the sex department, or what to prepare for.

But did it matter? she questioned. Probably not, Ayame thought to herself. He was more or less here to fulfill a contract.

And as everyone knew, once you ordered a ninja to do something, they'd see through it to the very end.

The fumes of the aphrodisiac were starting to get into her system. There was a tightness in her chest that she wasn't ready to think about. She was hoping it'd dissipate by the time she was under the influence of the drug.

Tsukuyo had told her that this newer version of Aizen-Kou only helped kickstart libido. It wouldn't force anyone to be in love with another person, and was strictly distributed to courtesans only; clients were forbidden to use it. Ayame had snagged one - for research purposes, of course - but it had been left unused for a while as she hadn't seen an opportunity to use it in an empty bedroom with Gintoki in it. He was always in the company of his meddlesome kids, and she didn't feel comfortable lighting that sort of thing around minors.

So, now it was put into use for other purposes.

She nearly jumped when she felt Zenzou's hands on her shoulders.

"You're tense," he murmured.

The last time she remembered when they physically touched each other had to be a long time ago. He was about to die, back when they were trying to save Shigeshige in their village. Ayame sometimes wondered if she would ever forget the sight of him, begging her to leave him behind all bloody and bruised.

It still gave her nightmares from time to time.

Zenzou started to massage her back, and she hadn't realized how horribly touch-deprived she was until she leaned into him, instinctively. Her eyes were still shut, but she could sense how close he was, his warmth radiating from her fingers.

She was glad that he made the first move.

"I was really disappointed that day when you turned me down, Sarutobi," he said in a low voice. "You really put a dent in my pride."

Ayame opened her eyes, and turned around to face him. "Did I?"

This time she could see both of his blue eyes staring at hers. A rare sight for anybody. "Yeah."

They were so close to each other that she could feel his breath on her neck. She couldn't tell if she wanted to push him away or to pull him closer.

"I didn't mean to."

I was scared and I wasn't ready to change the dynamic of our relationship.

"I know. But if I knew then what I knew now... "

The conversation was turning dangerously intimate for a relationship that was supposed to be short-lived. Ayame swallowed uneasily, trying to regulate her frazzled state of mind. If this was his way of setting the mood, then he was doing far too good of a job, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.

None of this means anything, she thought to herself. But it was hard to remember it when his hands kept massaging her shoulders, the thumb pressed against her spine. When his mouth started peppering kisses against the nape of her neck, she almost stopped breathing.

They were playing with fire, and she guessed at this point it was too late to back down.

"Sarutobi."

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Her mouth went dry. Head was dizzy.

"Yes."

Nothing felt real when he gently plucked her glasses off, setting them next to the futon. This was far, far different from the time they had shown up as teenagers. He was terribly grown up now, poised and far more composed than he had any right to be. If this version of Zenzou had played the seduction game back then, Ayame knew that he could have convinced her to love him.

The taste of his whiskey on her lips. His cologne. The warmth of his hand, cupping her chin, breathing her in as if she was oxygen.

It all terrified and comforted her at the same time.

He was starting to unravel parts of her that she'd reigned in the past. Her passion, her eroticism, her lust for life was pouring out of her in a way that had never happened before. Her affection had nowhere else to go, because until now, no one had wanted it. It was coming out now and in full force, because this time it was consensual. Or at least constructed in a way that she could believe was mutual.

She had wondered what it was like to kiss her boss once or twice. It was a natural thing to ponder, after spending so much time with him as children, and then teenagers, until they'd grown apart, reconciling much later in life. The person she was kissing now seemed to be run opposite to the history that she once shared with him.

For someone so emotionally cold and closed off, he was warm to the touch.

Ayame couldn't remember how they moved from the floor to her futon, too lost in the sensations to really monitor where she was in the moment. But all of a sudden, she was straddling him and she found out he was... hard.

Flushing, she blurted out, "I thought you weren't into pretty girls."

Her boss gave her a wry grin. "Well, when you're on top of me like that, with your hair tied up... "

Her stomach fluttered.

Ayame had always thought of sex as a purely physical thing. When she was alone at night touching herself, her fantasies mostly were limited to the hypothetical scenarios that belonged in a porn video. She had fantasized about being taken by someone - sometimes against her will, and sometimes not. It was far more graphic than the situation in front of her, and ten times more impersonal. It was only her and her hand - maybe a toy would be used from time to time, but it didn't involve the presence of another human being.

At this moment, she felt like she couldn't hide from anyone. She didn't feel as if she was in control of the situation. And she certainly couldn't escape from Zenzou, who was looking at her now as if... as if...

As if he genuinely desired her.

It would have been validating if she didn't know exactly how to proceed after knowing that.

He noticed her silence.

"Hey, Sarutobi, we can stop," he reminded her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If it's not working for you - "

Even though her vision was blurry, she could sense the care and tenderness from his physical touch. He could tell that she was in a vulnerable state right now - both physically and mentally - she wasn't good at hiding her feelings at a time like this. There was too much going on in her head, and she was finding it difficult to focus on anything.

"No, I'm okay." She hoped her voice came out less panicky than it did. "It's just - yeah. I'm - "

"New to it, yeah. It's all right. Just take a deep breath."

She did, and exhaled slowly.

He reached for her again, and this time she let him take the lead. He tugged on her silk robe, causing it to slide off her body in one fell swoop, revealing her lingerie set in the process.

"Hmm... It's a bit tamer than I expected from you, but still, pretty hot," was his consensus, which pleased her more than she cared to admit.

"I didn't know which one to pick," she said, still flustered from feeling so exposed. Mind you, she wasn't even naked yet.

"I'll be looking forward to seeing what else you'll pick, then."

Arrogant bastard. They haven't even gotten through the first round of sex and he was already envisioning future sessions?

She was graciously excused from replying though, because then he kissed her again. This time, it was longer and deeper than any of the previous kisses they had shared. Something in her loins throbbed, and she realized belatedly that the aphrodisiac that she had lit up earlier was finally kicking in. Her body was practically begging for him to touch her, with the same intensity that usually accompanied her stalking sessions with Gintoki.

His hands continued to wander everywhere, while his eyes kept a close watch on her, making sure she was comfortable. A hand twisted behind her back, unclasping her bra with ease, and by the time she realized it, he had cupped her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, feeling electric shocks running down from her body up and jerked when he thumbed her nipple, a spike of tension coursing through her veins. He did it again, and she tilted her head back. His teeth ran over her throat, causing her to shiver with delight.

"Nice rack, Sarutobi..." he muttered to himself, right before he flipped her over on her back. He towered over her for a second before proceeding to make his way downwards.

She wondered if they were about to do missionary, but then Zenzou moved even lower.

Hot panic flooded her. "Wait - "

His eyes narrowed. "You put oral sex on the list. I assumed you were interested."

"But it's embarrassing," she squeaked, feeling very green again.

This time he had less patience for her bullshit. "So close your eyes," he said curtly.

It was probably more embarrassing that his rudeness was causing her to get excited. She did as he said, letting her focus on the sensation of his body moving on top of her. His fingers slipped under her panties, sliding them off her legs.

He didn't waste any time spreading her apart, his tongue sliding over her sex, movements slow and deliberate. Her body responded to his touch like an animal in heat, turning uncomfortably warm in an air-conditioned bedroom.

His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider and giving him better access as he dove in deeper. He was relentless, his tongue flicking over her clit, circling it, then licking a slow, steady stripe up her center. She could already feel the pressure building inside her, a sweet, aching tension that threatened to break her apart.

"What the fuck - " she breathed in, completely unprepared for how intense it was. Her vibrators only delivered stimulation in pinpointed areas, mostly incapable of stimulating more than just her clitoris. Although she had experimented with different toys before, it was often hard for her to achieve a slow build as she was generally impatient to get to her climax.

It was only now that she was forced to wait - wait for him to increase the pressure. His tongue was wet, soft and hard at various intervals, and she moaned at his intrusion as he sucked her bundle of nerves.

She could only pant now as he lapped at her folds, feeling unabashed and needy. His grip on her thigh tightened as he buried his face into her cunt, and she clenched her fists in the sheets. Any time she grew quieter or made less sounds, he'd switch up his moves, paying special attention to her labia and the hood of her clitoris.

He noticed that a certain movement caused her to moan even louder. He dipped his head to replicate it again, and she felt his tongue push inside of her, rolling inwards as she cried out into the darkness he occupied.

It didn't take long for her to know she was close to her climax. The aphrodisiac had taken her pleasure from a zero to a hundred.

"I'm gonna cum," she moaned, teetering at the edge between ecstasy and delirium.

She was close.

So close.

He didn't say anything back.

Instead, he continued to increase the pressure, building up the intensity until she couldn't handle it anymore. Sucking her clitoris until she screamed.

It hit her like an inferno.

Her body tensed, crashed and tumbled as if she felt the sky cave in, littering the two of them in metaphorical stardust. She cried out, his name mingled with wordless pants and incoherent noises as the pleasure took her body hostage.

Ayame was suspended at that moment for an impossible amount of time. Her limbs shook and trembled as she died a little death, completely possessed by her release.

Even as she felt the waves subsiding she still felt the wracking aftershocks course through her body.

Her partner shifted himself upwards, choosing now to slip off his robe.

Maybe he was smirking a bit as he wiped his mouth clean of her residue.

It was also possible she didn't care as it had been an outstanding orgasm.

His voice was playful when she finally came to her senses. "Was that how you imagined it to be?"

She couldn't answer him, but her expression must have satisfied him, for he kissed her on the mouth. It should have repulsed her, being able to taste herself on his lips, but it only turned her on.

(On that note, she couldn't believe that she was still horny. Damn it. Maybe the aphrodisiac had been overkill.)

"We can stop now if you like."

Ayame shook her head. "No, let's do it."

"Any position you'd prefer?" he asked.

She thought about it, and then blushed. "Missionary, please." It felt the least intimidating from all the porn videos she'd watched on the internet. Plus, with his track record of telling her what to do, she was more inclined to trust him.

"Okay."

She was more comfortable now with being naked in front of him, the first orgasm loosening any inhibitions she once had.

She felt... good. Relaxed, but not sleepy.

Out of nowhere, Zenzou tore the wrapping of a condom, rolling down the prophylactic on his cock with a practiced motion. He didn't seem too self-conscious about letting her watch him, making her suspect this wasn't out of the ordinary for him.

She wondered how many girls he'd been with - or men, for that matter. That episode with Gintoki in the hospital and the candle in his ass could point to her boss batting for both teams.

It didn't matter, she thought, smothering that hint of jealousy that was threatening to throw her off. As long as they were practicing relatively safe sex, and exclusivity as long as she needed, his sexual history was irrelevant to the deal they'd agreed on.

And anyways, maybe he was just dipping into that unflappable confidence that he had as the head of his clan. He'd always held a cool arrogance that could piss off both his enemies and colleagues alike.

"Are you ready?" he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She nodded.

Her skin tingled under his touch as his fingers moved across her back, then gradually sliding up to the back of her neck.

Guiding her head as he kissed her, his fingers twisted in her hair, tugging it gently and pulling her back slightly so he could press his tongue deeper into her mouth. She matched his pace, her tongue meeting his as her hips rolled forward, her leg slipping between his, resting it between his knees.

The sensation of his toned body, lightly resting on her chest, was enough to make her head spin. He was lean and wiry, and the stubble on his chin was doing things to her as he kept touching her in ways she'd never expect him to.

He positioned himself against her entrance, and by now she was so slick with arousal that her lips spread easily for him.

Still, a part of her hesitated. Her muscles tensed up, anticipating it to hurt.

(She wasn't going to say something to him cheesy like, "Please be gentle with me." That was way too out of character for either of them. Tenderness had never been part of their dynamic.)

She could take a bit of pain. God knew she'd gone through worse. With that thought circulating in her head, she forced herself to relax as he pushed himself inside her. As he sank into her, her whole body shuddered.

"Fuck," she breathed, her head falling back against the pillows.

He moved slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, each thrust deep and deliberate. She could feel every inch of him; the way he stretched her, the way he filled her up, was almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

She kept expecting there to be a piercing pain, sure to obliterate any inkling of pleasure. But to her relief, it never happened, even when he was completely inside her. He had loosened her up sufficiently that aside from a slight pinch, there wasn't much else to be concerned about.

"Put your head up for a sec. I wanna try something."

She obeyed, and let his fingers curl through her hair, sending a tingle of pleasure that ran down her spine. He paused for a moment to gently tug the elastic that held her ponytail together down, letting her hair tumble in soft waves.

It was probably the most romantic thing a man had ever done for her, aside from Gintoki proposing marriage to her, later rescinded. That it was happening only in this sick, twisted context was probably the most appropriate form for her, if she was being honest about it.

"I'm more used to seeing you like this," Zenzou mused, but didn't elaborate on it any further. "You alright?"

She whimpered softly as he drew back again, holding himself steady as she pushed forward - unable to bear the separation. He took it as a cue to continue forwards, keeping a slow and steady pace.

"Good girl," he said, causing her core to burn hotter than before. "You're doing so well for your first time. Honestly, I should've expected it. You're a complete natural."

How did he know that she had a praise kink? She was learning a lot of things today. One of them being that her boss was extremely talented at taking suggestions, and translating them into things that made her burn.

He pressed another kiss on her neck, making his way down. By the time his tongue swept around her nipple, it had swollen with expectant pleasure. His mouth spiraled around and down, then passed to her other breast.

He caught the other nipple gently between his lips, rolled it, his tongue tip sweeping the very tip. Her torso instinctively lifted up towards him, straining, searching for something she didn't know. She hissed as a hand swept slowly down over her stomach, finding her mound for a second, right before moving further into her thatch of curls.

She felt him lift his hips below her and then fall back, motionless, shuddering. His thumb was searching for something, then finding and gently pressing down on that secret spot.

Ayame felt like her brain was starting to melt. A heady combination of the booze and fumes from the aphrodisiac were starting to mix together, causing her vision to blur. Each thrust seemed to ignite something new within her, a deep, primal connection that she had never experienced before. Her entire world had narrowed to the delicious heat and pressure of his body against hers.

It was starting to affect him, too.

His pace had started to quicken. His thrusts were becoming harder, more urgent.

She moaned, her hips lifting to meet his, the sound of skin against skin echoing through her bedroom. His breathing had become more ragged; eyes half-shut, his lips thin. A jolt of pleasure shot through her as she looked at him, his cold eyes staring through her as his breath fanned across her face, the strain in his jaw evident.

She could feel herself unraveling under his gaze, the tension in her body building to a breaking point. There was no stopping the momentum now, and as he kept thrusting in her, a high pitched and slow whine drew from her chest.

His breath was hot against her neck, his chest pressing into hers as he drove into her with a rhythm that reduced her into a babbling mess. She was uttering complete nonsense by now, and not caring because the only thing that mattered was that elusive orgasm.

It was almost out of reach. So close, and not at the same time. His thumb wasn't pressing hard enough on her clitoris to make her come, even though he was fucking her as fast as he possibly could.

"Harder," she gasped. Out of desperation, she pressed her palm to his fingers, no longer ashamed of asking for what she wanted. "Please."

"Please what," he said, keeping that irritatingly soft pressure on her bundle of nerves.

He couldn't have possibly misinterpreted her actions. He was too smart for that.

He just wanted to tease her. To have her at his mercy.

A true bastard to the very end.

Ayame wasn't above begging though. She was already used to begging for scraps from somebody else.

"Please make me come, boss. I need you to let me come. Please," she uttered in her most needy voice, one she reserved when she was acting out her special fantasies in private. The one that she reached for when she was in most need of relief.

The voice she used when she imagined Gintoki taking her.

It was almost surreal when she saw her partner's eyes turn blue-black, the heat all-encompassing, betraying his feigned disinterest. Her words had done something to him, she was sure of it.

"Goddamn it, Sarutobi," he growled, hand gripping her hip so hard that it almost hurt. "You were made for this."

When he pressed hard against her clitoris, her world turned white.

She heard herself scream, feeling her walls clenching around him, and the rush of liquid heat in her belly. But for an everlasting moment, she was completely underwater.

She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

Only feel.

She knew he was still thrusting inside her, prolonging her orgasm with each aftershock. She could hear him cursing as he pulsed inside of her, his hands still wrapped around her waist. But by then she was already far gone, too dazed to recognize he was still talking to her. The aphrodisiac had rendered her climax so intense that the aftermath had made her tired. So tired that she couldn't even pay attention to anything else around her.

Ayame could vaguely hear snippets of her name here and there, but his voice soon faded in and out of her consciousness.

The next morning, she woke up with an incredible sense of well being, albeit feeling a bit sore in between her legs.

Reaching for her mobile, she squinted at the screen, trying to figure out the time.

Shit. She'd overslept.

She rummaged her hand around the side of her futon, looking for her glasses. After putting them on, she realized that there was an unread message.

It was a text from her boss.

Next week, same time, your place. Let's try it again without the aphrodisiac.

- tbc

Chapter Text

The dishes fell from Ayame's tray in a spectacular manner, leaving the ground a kaleidoscopic mess of white porcelain.

"Sarutobi!" her manager scolded, arms on her hips. "What are you even doing? This is the second time today you've dropped something on the floor!"

"I'm sorry!" she yelped, crouching down immediately to pick up the broken pieces of china.

It was a miracle that she was able to clean up at all without cutting her hands - or maybe it was because it was her ninja-like instincts that kept her from harm. Either way, she was distracted. Far too distracted to work her latest shift at the ninja cafe.

Her manager sighed. "Listen, I'll have Wakikaoru take over your shift. Go home. Honestly, Sarutobi, you're usually not this clumsy unless Sakata-san is visiting - "

At the mention of Gintoki's name, it caused her to turn redder. Damn her libido.

She took off her apron in the locker room, hanging it up, and shutting the door with more of a slam than she expected.

Her vivid imagination was actively working against her will. It wasn't enough that she had slept with her boss, even though that decision was highly questionable in the first place.

It was that she had slept with her boss, and that she wanted to do it again. Even when the aphrodisiac had worn off, she still couldn't stop thinking about their encounter.

How was she to explain to herself how she had thoroughly enjoyed him taking her like that? She was beyond embarrassed by how much she rejoiced in his hands holding her thighs open as he feasted on her. She pretended, briefly, that she'd come so hard thinking of someone else—until she couldn't match the intensity with her usual fantasies and her own hands.

Once the adrenaline that managed to sustain her through the last days passed, she was left feeling as weak as a puppet. The realization that she wanted to do those unspeakable things with him again and again was tearing her mind apart. It made her want to crawl under the covers and never come out again. But her lust for him was stronger than her self-consciousness. This need was noticeably different from all the other needs she had ever felt before - it has already surpassed her need for attention, superiority over the other girls, or even the need for Gintoki's fleeting touches, as pleasurable as they were.

Her body - for better or worse - wanted Zenzou. She wasn't ashamed of what she had done - a kunoichi was never expected to keep herself chaste - and Ayame had no interest in self-flagellation. But she was ashamed because she knew she was going to do it again, and enjoy every bit of it. She had realized that a milestone had been surpassed, one that she had tried to keep away by holding to the fantasy of a Gintoki who would sweep her off her feet. It had marked the last delusion between her girlhood and the woman she was now.

It was not accurate to say that she still didn't want Gintoki. She still loved him with all her heart and soul. He was still on the top of her to-do list, and just because she was on a side mission to become the best possible version of herself, didn't mean she was abandoning her final goal.

Walking out of the café, she checked for any new text messages from their last conversation. There were none so far, which both stressed her out and yet exhilarated her. He was keeping strict boundaries with their arrangement. It would have pissed off any other woman presumably sleeping with him, but for Ayame, it was oddly thrilling.

To: S-chan
Why no aphrodisiac?

From: Z
It's too easy that way. I'd like to see how things turn out when we're both lucid.

She couldn't really make heads or tails of the message, but had pressed a thumbs up reaction in any case. He didn't bother to clarify anything beyond that last text, leaving her to ruminate on their last encounter.

He definitely liked it, she concluded. Even though she was not his type. He had set up another time and date, so that was a sure sign of interest.

Snapping her mobile shut, she headed home. Her body itched for some sort of relief, and it was a few days until they were scheduled for another rendezvous.

The buzzer rang, just like it had last week.

This time, Ayame was ready. Like before, her apartment was sparkling clean. All the Gintoki posters that she'd forgotten to take down from her walls had come down - a miscalculation on her part even if Zenzou didn't mention it last week. But unlike last time, she'd chosen to dress up a little sexier. She picked a red, lacy set with a diamond pendant in the middle of her chest, highlighting her best assets. It was far more elaborate than the last pair she'd worn.

She wrapped herself in another silk robe - this time in complete black. A nice complimentary color scheme, courtesy of hers truly. If it didn't please him, at least it would please herself to look in the mirror.

When her boss opened the door, this time her eyes darted to him. Her body was tense with anticipation - but this time, it wasn't full of dread.

"Sarutobi," he greeted her.

"Boss."

"Thought you'd have stopped the arrangement once you got what you wanted."

It was a pity, Ayame thought to herself, that he had such a shitty personality underneath a beautiful, lithe body. Still, the internet had informed her that it was best practice to make these sorts of arrangements with someone you couldn't personally stand. Allegedly, it would prevent feelings from getting out of control.

"One time isn't enough to consider myself experienced," Ayame said, although her cheeks turned pink. "I'm not a prodigy like you."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. Well, were there things that you wanted to try from the list?"

She tapped her fingers on the counter, thinking. She was getting a bit more used to how brutally honest these sessions were shaping up to be. "Mmm... well, I'd like to try giving a blowjob. After last week, I thought I'd return the favor."

"I'm not sure if I want to think of this as transactional," Zenzou said, already moving around her kitchen, rummaging through her fridge to get some ice out, dropping it neat into a glass. With a modicum of expertise, he poured a fifth of whiskey, shaking it around before taking a seat next to her counter top. "It makes a seedier thing feel even worse."

"Seedier than murdering people for a living?"

"Touché. By the way, do you still drink those shitty oolong highballs?"

Ayame rolled her eyes. "Yes." The Oniwaban sometimes had drinking get togethers at the end of the year. Ayame, who hadn't made serious money until she was directly contracted by Matsudaira, still dabbled in cheap booze on those occasions.

A Suntory highball, straight from the convenience store, was presented to her over her kitchen counter. She took it, somewhat surprised at his thoughtfulness.

"Thanks." She cracked open the can and took a moderate sip, mindful that it was a somewhat potent concoction. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up in a fuzzy state of mind which wasn't exactly what she was looking for at this time.

"I was thinking you could seduce me this time," he suggested. "Take more control of the situation than last week."

"And how would I do that?" she asked, feeling a little defensive.

"Pretend I'm someone else."

That they both knew who he was talking about caused her to flush.

But in this strange roleplay, she thought it was surprisingly pragmatic. There hadn't been enough space in her mind last week for her to truly focus on her pleasure. She'd been far too anxious to thoroughly enjoy the process of making love - albeit with someone she didn't quite understand or even love. Though the aphrodisiac had smoothed over their inhibitions from before, this was still someone who she wasn't completely comfortable with.

She would have to make do.

"Okay."

Her movements were more sure. In the past, when she had simply jumped on Gintoki, it was expected that the samurai would push her off, clearly disgusted with her amorous attempts.

Knowing what she knew now, different tactics would have to be undertaken. Subtlety was not her style, but she was a quick learner.

She loosened her silk robe, knowing Zenzou was watching her every move. Her cleavage peeked through, and she moved closer, her hand reached out, brushing away his bangs. Resting her other hand on his thigh, she leaned towards his body, making direct eye contact with him.

He looked impassively at her. Waiting for her next move.

Time served as her aphrodisiac; her anticipation now slowing to a steady thrum as she continued touching him. She hadn't had the opportunity to appreciate his body in detail until now, and as she slowly undressed him, she took stock of him.

He was... strangely attractive, in his own way.

Unlike Gintoki, whose body she had the rare opportunity to appreciate in person, Zenzou was leaner. It wasn't that he couldn't maim or kill just the same as Gintoki - but he had his own way of exerting force through stealth and precision. His whole body was hard and angular, without even a hint of softness.

She didn't think she could play the game of pretend anymore. It wasn't as fun anyway.

Ayame ran her hands lightly across his chest, watching the interplay of his muscles reacting to her touch. Her eyes flickered to his, only to find an amused look, as if he was asking her, Like what you see?

Blushing, she decided to lean in closer, determined to have the upper hand. She cupped his chin, and pulled him in for a kiss.

He'd taken the lead before.

Now it was Ayame's turn.

She gave him a slow and sweet kiss, softer than before. The kind she imagined giving someone back when she was younger and much more naive.

To her surprise, he returned the same energy to her.

His tongue pressed into her, opening her mouth and twisting with her own. She kissed him back, letting her tongue slip forward and pressing up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

She broke the kiss, her lips trailing down his neck, her teeth grazing his skin just enough to make him shudder. Her hands slid under, her fingers splaying across his chest as she made her way down. Her lips followed the path of her hands, kissing and nipping at his collarbone, her tongue darting out to taste his skin. She smiled against him as she moved lower, her lips brushing over his chest, her tongue flicking against one of his nipples.

It was a quiet triumph, feeling his body finally respond to her touch. Not that she cared, or anything like that.

He groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as she continued her descent, her lips leaving a trail of heat down his stomach. She paused at the waistband of his pants, hesitating for a split second before her fingers hooked into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

Her lips brushed against the sensitive skin just above his hipbone, and he sucked in a sharp breath. She smiled again, her tongue darting out to trace a line along the edge of his boxers before she finally pulled them down, freeing his manhood. By now her knees were resting on the floor, but this was something she was so used to during her usual stalking haunts that it felt utterly natural. It felt right for her to submit under her boss, and yet remain in control of the situation.

She'd seen his cock before. Had remembered how full and stretched she'd felt when he was inside her, and a heat bloomed in her loins. Now that she was up close and personal, she had a better picture of what she was dealing with. It was proportionate to his body, and thick, with a graceful upward curve to it. Most importantly, it fit her hand well, with more than enough length to move up and down.

Her hand slowly wrapped around him, her touch firm but gentle, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan.

Her lips closed around him, and she felt his entire body tense as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around him.

She had practiced this sort of thing before. Not on anyone else in particular, but with various... objects. Maybe a dildo or two. Gintoki's own bokuto had been tricky, but doable.

Her hand moved in rhythm with her mouth, her fingers tightening just enough to make him gasp. She pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against the tip before she took him in again, her movements slow and deliberate.

She moaned softly around him, the vibration sending a jolt of electricity through his body. His hands tightened in her hair, and she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his as she took him deeper, her throat relaxing around him. The sight of her like that—lips stretched around him, eyes locked on his—was causing his eyes to darken.

"Fuck, you're a natural," he breathed, his voice rough with need. She smiled around him, her tongue pressing against him in a way that made his hips jerk involuntarily.

She continued moving at a slow, sensual tempo, waiting for him to give her any cues - like if he wanted it faster, or slower. But he seemed happy to grip the back of her head, and so she continued, keeping her eyes locked on his face.

To keep her jaw from getting tired, she alternated between slow, deep strokes and quick, teasing flicks of her tongue. Her hand joined in, stroking him in time with her mouth, her fingers tightening just enough to make him groan. Porn had taught her to avoid using teeth, and so she made sure her lips were curled around them, preventing any unnecessary accidents.

Ayame pulled back again, her lips leaving him with a soft pop before she kissed her way back up his body, her hands sliding up his thighs as she moved back to her original position.

"Was that how you imagined it to be, boss?" she asked, fluttering her lashes.

A part of her was thrilled to see that he was half irritated, half amused at her audacity. She had used his words against her, and it made her feel powerful.

"Finish what you started, Sarutobi," he said, his voice thickened by desire. "If I can do it, so can you."

Ayame obeyed, if only because she was curious to see if she could make him cum.

She leaned in again, her lips brushing against the base of his shaft. Her tongue traced the pulsing vein, the salty taste of him sending a shiver down her spine.

She could get used to this.

Her tongue worked him over, tracing every ridge and contour, her lips tightening around him as she pulled back before sinking down again. A faint sound escaped him, barely audible over the wet, rhythmic movements of her mouth. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair, brushing strains of it back from her face.

She glanced up through her lashes, catching a glimpse of his flushed face, his lips parted as he let out a shaky breath.

It was her cue to increase her pace; her lips sliding up and down his length with a newfound urgency. Her tongue flicked against the sensitive spot just beneath the head, and she felt him twitch in her mouth. Zenzou's fingers had left her hair, his hips lifting slightly off the chair as he fought to hold back. But she didn't stop, her movements relentless, her breath coming faster as she worked him over.

She felt the tension coiled in his body the moment before he came. His thighs tightened beneath her hands, his breath catching in his throat as his cock pulsed against her tongue. Warmth flooded her mouth, thick and salty, and she swallowed without hesitation, her lips still wrapped tightly around him. She kept her rhythm steady, drawing every last drop from him until he sagged back into the chair, his chest heaving.

When she finally retreated, she couldn't help but feel accomplished.

"How was that, then?" she asked, her lip lifting at the corner of her mouth. She was trying not to feel smug.

Her boss chuckled. "I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one enjoying that," he said, and then pulled her in for a thank you kiss. As she straddled him, he was quick to slip a hand under her robe, squeezing her backside.

"Didn't know you were the kind of man to kiss a girl after she gave you a blowjob," she teased him, feeling a little more confident than normal.

"Well, when your subordinate does an outstanding job... " He trailed off, and then wiped off his sweat from her lips with a finger. "Does it bother you?"

She shook her head.

"Good."

He pulled off her silk robe after that. It quickly pooled at his feet, leaving him naked, and her clad in her lingerie.

She was vain enough to let his eyes linger on her longer than necessary.

"This is new," he commented, so neutrally that it almost pissed her off. His finger flicked the diamond pendant between her chest. "I don't think I've ever seen this outfit on you in the show before."

She'd forgotten how rarely he complimented her.

Despite herself, she was pleased he had noticed. "That's right. You're the only one to see this one."

"Careful now, Sarutobi. You'll make me think that this thing between us is special."

Before she could even think of what to reply to him, he reached out to kiss her.

He didn't bother this time to be gentle. It was claiming. His teeth grazed her lip, and she whimpered into him, clutching at his chest.

She gasped as his hands drifted down her throat, over her clavicles, and curved over her breasts before slipping down to the elastic of her panties. With ease, he picked her up, carrying her to her bedroom.

It would have led to a predictable outcome if she wasn't clumsy. Before he could place her on the futon, her poor eyesight led her arm to knock over something from her shelf. Something that she'd forgotten to pack up in her haste to get her place ready for their rendezvous.

A box of sex toys tumbled out of a box, spilling their contents on the floor. It left nothing to the imagination.

There were wand massagers. Bullet, g-spot, and rabbit vibrators. There were toys that had suctions, and some that didn't. She had amassed an impressive collection ever since she discovered the wonderful world of BDSM, and by proxy - a way to relieve her urges without anybody involved.

To say that Ayame was mortified was an understatement.

She quickly picked up as many toys as she could, stuffing them back into the container they belonged to. Despite the former intimacy that they'd shared - this aspect of her sexual exploration was far more private than what she was ready to show to him.

"Hey, Sarutobi..."

She looked at her boss, expecting him to laugh a bit. To try to diffuse the sticky situation they'd landed in, metaphorically.

But he didn't.

His eyes weren't intense or predatory. There was no smirk, no teasing glint. Just a quiet, open awareness. He looked up at her with soft patience, like he was letting her decide how to proceed. Like he knew the effect he was having on her and was somehow more curious about it than she was.

"When was the last time you masturbated?" he inquired.

Despite her utmost effort to keep calm, Ayame's ears turned pink. "... Yesterday."

Thinking of him, but she wasn't going to say that.

"Can you show me?"

"... What?"

"I want to see how you pleasure yourself," he said.

"Oh, okay." He made it seem like a perfectly normal proposition, two childhood acquaintances getting to know each other on a whole different level.

She wanted to say no at first. But the way he had reacted with curiosity, rather than judgment, made her want to show him.

She picked out the toy that she used yesterday, and positioned herself sitting in front of her boss. It was her habit to clean them after she was done, so that she could rotate them on a regular basis. At least this one felt familiar and not too obscene, compared to a dildo.

"This is a pinpoint vibrator," she said, a bit hesitant. "It's got a pointed tip to stimulate, um, the clit."

Ayame pressed the button, putting it on the lowest setting. Unsure of what to do next, she slid the tip over her mound, still covered by her lingerie. "I usually like to use it on top of clothes first."

"Why?"

"It can be really strong," she explained, running the tip lightly over the seam of her sex. Swallowing, she wasn't sure if he considered this sexy. Her anxiety had chosen now to flare up of all times, and she was doubting if this was doing anything for him or her.

Even though she was an exhibitionist, it was different for someone who had actually... been gratified by her. Sexually.

There was a palpable fear of disappointing him, even though she had already pleased him on different occasions.

"What do you think about when you touch yourself?" her boss inquired softly, his hand rubbing circles around her knees.

"Well, um... "

It felt like a trick question. The truth was, she had alternated between the two of them since last week. A go-to fantasy usually involved Gintoki tying her up in shibari and taking full advantage of her in every which way. He'd call her a slut, a dirty whore, and other things that he wouldn't ever say in real life.

But then the other day, the fantasy had involved her boss choking her neck while he fucked her fast and hard. Death by erotic asphyxiation. She had made noises so embarrassing that she wished she could've forgotten them.

So.

There wasn't really a great way to answer this question.

"Not much, really..." Ayame responded, still teasing the toy up and down her slit. "Um, what do you think about, when you... ?" she asked, hoping he'd accept her deflection.

"Recently? This," he said, and then she saw that he was getting hard again.

Oh.

"You mean... me? Touching myself?"

He nodded. "Or the sounds you make. The way your face looks when you come."

Her head started to feel hot and red. Her body was tightening up, and a rush of arousal made its presence known as she continued to press the vibrator against herself.

She was wet, and knew he could see it too.

"Zenzou... "

"That's right," he said quietly, his voice low. "Keep showing me how you do it."

He traced the outline of her lips with his thumb, causing her to suck on it. It felt good.

Ayame continued to stroke herself, clicking the button for a higher intensity as the vibrator thrummed against her clitoris. Her breaths were growing shorter. Just the fact that he was watching her, even enjoying the sight of her touching herself was enough for her to get her off.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, now returning his hand back to her knee.

"Mm-hmm," she said, and let out a soft moan.

A minute passed. She started moving the tip in soft circles around her clitoris. Her body was throbbing with arousal, desperate to get off.

She found herself looking at Zenzou again.

His gaze. Cold as ice. And yet, they were reserved for her and her only.

Waiting for her to come.

Not interfering. Just observing.

Her walls started to flutter, a tell-tale sign of her incoming orgasm.

"Oh, god... "

She gasped, her jaw dropping as her other hand twisted in the sheets.

She was close.

Her eyes were squeezed shut. The vibrator by now was slick with her arousal, her panties thoroughly soaked through.

He was looking. She wanted him to look.

Needed him to look.

"It's okay, Sarutobi. Let go."

She clicked the button for the third setting, and almost screamed. Her back arched and her walls clenched around nothing.

A moan wrenched from her throat, the coil inside of her releasing.

For half a minute, she couldn't register where she was, caught in that beautiful moment of ecstasy and riding it out as long as she could. By the time she could focus, she could see that her partner hadn't moved an inch from where he was sitting.

She switched off the toy, exhausted.

But satisfied.

"Don't get too comfortable, Sarutobi. We're not done here yet."

She couldn't help the dizzying smile that crossed her face. She'd noticed he had gotten hard again, even though neither of them had stroked him to full completion.

The inevitable had to happen.

And anyways, she certainly had the advantage of being able to go again. Multiple orgasms were the domain of women. She was keen on getting another one.

His body hovered just above hers, radiating heat and hunger. His hands came down on her hot and heavy, finally unhooking her bra to reveal her chest.

There wasn't any need for additional foreplay. He rolled on the condom quickly. By the time she slipped off her panties, both of them were ready to play.

"Can you take a little bit more for me?" he asked, cupping her chin. A thumb brushed her beauty mark under her eye, right before he removed her glasses and placed them next to her futon.

"Yes." The world blurred once again, but it didn't matter when he kissed her again harder this time, all tongue and teeth and need. He devoured her mouth, stole her breath, and left her gasping for more.

His fingers slipped down and found her center, slick and swollen. When he parted her folds with practiced precision, he groaned into her mouth like he'd just tasted divinity. Another hand wrapped around her throat, thumb pressed lightly to her pulse, claiming her breath without taking it.

The thick weight of his cock dragged along her soaked folds deliberately. The head nudged her clit, smeared slick over her entrance, made her jerk and whimper.

He pushed into her. Slow, but deliberate.

The head of his cock breached her, thick and unrelenting. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her through it holding her jaw, swallowing the sound like it fed him.

Her cunt stretched around him, trembling, her walls almost struggling to accommodate the thickness sliding deeper with each grinding inch. Even though she gone through this with him before, the stretch still overwhelmed her. Filled her.

His hands gripped her thighs and pushed them into the futon, holding her down like she might try to escape.

As if she ever would.

His weight bore down on her, powerful and possessive. Every thrust punched the air from her lungs, rocked her bones, and cracked her mind wide open.

Then he lifted her leg, to gain deeper access. She gasped, appreciating the angle.

He began to fuck her with a brutal rhythm, deep and punishing, cock dragging along every hypersensitive inch inside her before slamming back in again.

She could only cry out, gasp, and twitch beneath him. Powerless to push him off.

The coil inside of her was winding slowly inside of her again. And his rhythm was doing nothing but twisting it tighter.

Then she heard the buzzing of her vibrator. The one that she had used earlier in front of him.

Zenzou pressed the tip next to her clitoris, all while maintaining his rhythm. He had remembered that last time she had some difficulty achieving orgasm without clitoral stimulation.

"No... " she whispered, almost fearful of how powerful her climax would be. On its own, the vibrator was strong enough to satisfy her for a day or two.

But in conjunction with the position they were in...

She would surely die from the overstimulation.

"No, not there - " she groaned, as he flicked it experimentally across her clit. Her legs were already shaking. "If you keep doing that - - "

"If you wanted me to stop, just say the word already."

The sensation of buzzing on her clit was insistent, and there was nowhere to escape it; nowhere to go. His other hand had firmly pressed her thighs so that her legs were wide open and flat on the futon. Without knowing it, she'd already given him full control of her body.

She didn't want him to stop. She didn't want him to slow down, either.

All she could do was to take him. Over and over again.

"That's what I thought," Zenzou said, his eyes flashing in triumph.

He pressed the button all the way to the highest setting, having already memorized how she used the vibrator on herself.

She came.

Hard.

A scream tore from her throat as her cunt clamped down around him, soaked him. It tried to hold him still but he didn't stop.

He fucked her through it. Used her body as it was his own toy. He fucked her through the aftershocks, forced her body to keep moving, to keep taking him.

It wasn't long until he came, broken sounds pouring from his lips as he spilled into her, hips pumping erratically.

All she could do in response was to moan, long and low. She was completely shattered.

The air in the room was thick. Heavy with the scent of sweat and cum, percolated with the usual perfume of her own room.

Her thighs were soaked, slick with his release and her own, smeared down to her knees. Her skin shimmered with sweat, heartbeat slowing down inside her chest.

Zenzou was draped over her. His weight pressed her into the futon, chest flush to hers, one hand tangled tight in her hair as if he had no intention of letting go. His cock still throbbed inside her, so deep, as if her body had been built to cradle him.

She was basking in her own afterglow. Not sleepy like the way she was last session - but there was a certain reverence that she was feeling. Her mind, for the first time since last week - was quiet. Made whole.

The moment of silence only lasted a while, before he finally withdrew from her. But he had the courtesy at least to hold her in his arms. It felt...

Appropriate.

"Hey, Sarutobi... "

"Hm?" she asked, tilting her head towards him. Her vision was still blurry, unable to see him as closely as she wanted.

"You don't have to lie to me. When you were touching yourself, I knew you were thinking of... someone else."

Oh. He'd noticed.

She blushed red. "I mean - it's not like - "

"That's fine by me."

The urge to correct him rose to her lips. I was thinking of you too.

But for some reason, she couldn't. Some part of her brain had forbade it. It felt like overstepping a boundary that they'd already established previously.

"You should text me something else to try next week," Zenzou said, changing the subject. Understanding that it was sticky territory.

She bit her lip. "Yeah."

A part of her had expected this professionalism from him, and nothing less. Another part of her hadn't expected it to feel empty. She didn't like that she had to be consistently dishonest to the person she'd chosen to share her body with.

She began to wonder - what if it hadn't been as good for him as it had been for her? What if it hadn't been that great for her boss at all? Was there genuinely any benefit to him continuing this arrangement, fully understanding that she couldn't truly commit in the way most others would have wanted?

"You're thinking too loud," Zenzou commented.

"How can you tell?"

His hand, which had been idly stroking her hair, paused. "You stopped talking. You only do that when you're at work. Or sleeping."

She resisted the urge to hit him. He was back to the same old person she knew and mostly despised outside of the bedroom. "Maybe I'm just tired."

"Mm. Sure." His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth to it that made her stomach flutter. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "What's on your mind?"

"Did you... have a good time?" she asked, cautious to not sound hopeful.

"I wouldn't come here again if I didn't."

"Oh, okay." Her whole body suddenly became light, as if she'd float away if he wasn't there holding on. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, batted her eyelashes and took a deep breath. 

"So, boss. What exactly do you know about bondage?" she asked, pleased to see the horrified expression on his face. 

- tbc 

Chapter Text

She wasn't his type.

Emotionally - a disaster. High strung and prideful, even though she was painfully clumsy at the best of times. Obsessive to the point of folly.

Physically - too beautiful for his personal taste. He preferred someone with visible flaws, someone so rejected from society that, when given a chance, they were relieved that someone could see the beauty in them. Sarutobi believed no such thing; she was well aware that she was visually striking, even if the object of her desire did not see her that way.

But her honesty had always remained consistent. If she wanted something, she would go after it. If she was upset, you could tell she was upset. If she was annoyed, she'd look annoyed, without any pretense of hiding it. He respected that part of her.

That she could reconcile being physically unfaithful towards someone she had pined for years was not something he could understand himself.

But then, their world was unconventional.

Their job was to take care of things that ordinary people could not do. Aside from assassinating high-profile targets - some who were innocent, and some not so innocent - they also specialized in sabotage, cover-ups, and national security; all while remaining completely invisible to civilians. Though they had a license to kill, certified by the shadow government - they were not constrained by one identity. The nature of their occupation made it necessary for them to have several alibis.

He suspected this was why Sarutobi had neatly divided her life into multiple parts.

The half of her that most people on the outside of the Oniwaban knew her for was a caricature. A vessel for her sexual projection. He supposed Gintoki had been the first person that had shown her genuine kindness in a long time. Whatever hallucinations Sarutobi superimposed onto him, was simply a side-effect of the psyche that she could not afford to show in her occupation.

The other half of her, that he knew of more intimately - was that she was utterly serious and committed to her job when no one was looking. She could disappear into thin air in a flash. She could lurk in the walls for hours at a time and no one would be able to notice, unless they were a shinobi of her caliber. He had seen her kill in cold blood, her eyes unfazed by the utter violence she had committed.

And now... he wasn't really sure where he stood with her. He wasn't sure what the hell they were doing, either.

Well, there was a contract. It outlined the terms and conditions, making it seem like a lifeless exchange.

The problem here was that nothing was lifeless about the damned thing. She was born to fuck. Ideally not him, but that didn't seem to matter at this point in time. He couldn't help but enjoy the way she responded to him. The way she wanted to give, and to receive him. How quickly she learned to please him, once her inhibitions were lowered. She was a nymphomaniac at her core, and would leave even the most hot blooded male drained and dry.

And... maybe the whole competitive aspect of it was hot. He was aware that he'd surprised her, catching her off guard. It made her want to work harder. To get him going. To see if she could make him come as hard as he'd made her. To say that he wasn't into her was a lie. Being balls deep in her twice obviously pointed to something that could go in either direction. And she'd consented to their coupling - both times, with his name pouring out of her mouth.

It was a sick game they were playing with each other. Ha ha ha - I'm not in love with you. But maybe we're getting something out of it? Let's keep going. I want to see how twisted this gets.

She wasn't supposed to do this. Ever.

But then again, shinobi could be just as equally incomprehensible as samurai. Loyalties didn't exist in their world. You had to think of yourself out of self-preservation, if you wanted to live another day.

He wondered if this was just her being fed up of being left behind - or maybe her urges were finally getting to an unsustainable level. Fifteen years of serialization in Shonen Jump where she had pursued him to her fullest extent, and Sakata Gintoki had barely even touched her. He wondered if her devotion to the samurai would ever waver, especially with a new addition of a fuck-buddy.

Sighing, Zenzou crouched down in front of his father's grave.

That son of a bitch had told him to take care of Sarutobi on his deathbed, and then died the next day without any clarification. He was pretty sure his old man was laughing at him now. Back then, Zenzou had said, "What the hell are you even talking about," with his nose buried in a Shonen Jump Weekly, and mostly forgot about it as Sarutobi was happy to ignore him at the best of times.

Now... things were different.

They had speedrun all the usual steps that came before sleeping together. Dates? Incomprehensible. Courtship? Nonexistent. Marriage? She would probably kill herself before that would ever happen. Not only was he competing against the ghost of his stupid samurai rival within this psychopathic situationship, he also fulfilling the blessing of his father. "Taking care" of her probably now meant doing whatever she wanted.

The question now was if he actually liked it or not.

"You bastard, you still owe me for that damn JUMP collection you sold for porn." Zenzou said. He placed a can of coffee on the tombstone, wondering if he'd get any insights from this sort of ceremony. "What am I supposed to do with it now? Look through it for BDSM ninja girls?"

There was no answer from the grave. Not even a hallucinatory ghost playing kick the can with him.

Goddamn it.

He opened the door to his house in the middle of the week, and frowned.

"We didn't schedule anything today," he said.

"Don't be grumpy, boss. Think of it as your convenient subordinate sex service, right on your doorstep!"

"Please stop calling it that."

She ignored him, and rummaged for something in her bag. "My neighbors have been complaining a little bit about the noise I've been making," his subordinate said cheerfully. "So I bought something for your trouble, since you also said that your neighbors don't like hearing noise at night, either."

She handed it to him. He unraveled the item, and found it was a ball gag.

Zenzou wondered how his life turned out this way. First off, she wasn't even supposed to be in his house. Secondly -

"I know you said no sleepovers." Sarutobi seemed to be under the impression that this would pacify him. "But my futon's in the washing machine, ya know? I don't have a spare."

"So where are you going to sleep?"

"Well, at first I was going to Gintoki's attic, but he put all these rat traps. I'd rather deal with them in the daytime than at night. This sort of poison can really ruin a girl's hair. So then I thought, surely my boss has other futons in that lonely house he never uses? I'll take one home, and no one will be none the wiser."

"I'm literally in front of you and you're talking about stealing my things."

"It's not stealing if I wanna do something in exchange for it, right?" Sarutobi leaned over him. That perfume she used wafted over, and he was vividly reminded of the time where his cock was in her mouth. Her beautiful chest pressed against his, and she almost purred against his ear. It was difficult to believe that this was the same woman who had been shy about him eating her out more than a week ago.

He was almost ashamed of how quickly he caved in. "Well... "

"C'mon, boss. If you're not working, and I'm not working, why don't we... " A finger traced idly against his chest. "... Have some fun?"

She was taking the lead. He couldn't really abide by that.

"I want my futon returned tomorrow."

"Sure, boss," Sarutobi agreed.

He had prepared certain things in advance for their upcoming session, but with her unexpected arrival, she'd cut his planning time short. As someone who was meticulous in most aspects of his life, this would have been irritating had he not been used to her flights of fancy.

"Ooh, this is fancy," his subordinate said, picking up a black rope resting on the back of a chair. "Don't think I've seen this one before."

"It's a bit different than the red one you already have at home. I thought it'd be interesting to have my own because I figured you'd already know how to escape your personal set. We'll only use the ball gag if I feel that you're getting too loud."

She flushed. "That's... sadistic."

Yeah, but it turns you on, he wanted to reply. Instead he shrugged. "Variety is the spice of life."

Then he added, "Get undressed and sit on the chair. And give me your glasses."

It was satisfying to see Sarutobi obey even if there was a smirk on her face. He found it simultaneously endearing and irritating at the same time; she was getting used to flaunting her body, knowing that he would be paying attention.

They'd discussed the details of the scene last time they'd been in bed. Truth be told, he hadn't ever really given much thought to being in the position of a dominant. Sarutobi enjoyed humiliating him plenty enough outside of work, but in a sexual context, and one where he'd proven that he could take the lead if needed - the idea of taming her appealed to him.

He was, after all, her boss.

He began to tie the ropes around her wrists and placed them behind her back, his movements precise and methodical. The material tightened against her naked body, the pressure just enough to make her feel secure but not uncomfortable. He moved down to her ankles, securing them to the chair with the same level of care.

They were familiar with rope tying. It was the same procedure they followed at work, right before they tortured people for information. That they were re-purposing such things for a different context made it... thrilling. He finished it off with a blindfold around her eyes.

When Zenzou was done, he stepped back to admire his work. She was beautiful.

"Comfortable?"

Sarutobi nodded, giving the rope a tug around her wrists to check if the bindings would hold. It didn't seem to hurt her, but he suspected that she would almost prefer that.

They had agreed to use the traffic light system, as neither of them were truly experienced with executing a scene to completion. She knew her own kinks, of course - but that didn't mean that things could go awry, or be too much to handle in reality.

He reached out, his fingers trailing down her side. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent waves of pleasure through her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her body arching slightly toward him. Then, his hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

The kiss was deep and demanding, his tongue sliding against hers with a hunger that caught her off guard. She moaned into his mouth, her body melting against his. Biology soon took over, and the temperature of the room seemed to rise by a few degrees. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

His eyes raked over her naked form, his gaze lingering on every curve and dip. The rope made her body look even more obscene than ever before, highlighting her breasts and hips. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone before moving down to cup her breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

He leaned down, capturing her nipple in his mouth. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She cried out, her body arching toward him as he sucked and teased.

His hands moved lower, skimming over her stomach before reaching the apex of her thighs. He paused for a moment, his fingers hovering just above her most sensitive spot.

"Please," she begged, her voice desperate. The ropes prevented her from touching him, and he could tell it was driving her mad.

He chuckled softly. "Wait," he said, his fingers finally brushing against her.

The touch was light at first, just enough to make her squirm. But then he increased the pressure, his fingers moving in slow circles that had her gasping for air. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction.

He didn't respond, his focus entirely on her. His fingers moved with purpose, their rhythm deliberate and unrelenting. The pressure built steadily, each stroke causing her tremble in anticipation of something more, something stronger. As her breath hitched, her hips instinctively arched toward his hand, desperate for more. And yet, the ropes held her firmly in place, their soft restraint only heightening the intensity of every sensation.

She couldn't see him, and it excited her.

He remembered the way she touched herself, and had committed to memory the way she looked as she came.

And he wanted to keep doing it to her... over and over again.

His touch grew bolder, his fingers exploring her with a precision that left her trembling. He circled her most sensitive spot, alternating between gentle caresses and firm strokes that made her gasp. Her moans filled the room, raw and unfiltered, as he pushed her closer to the edge. Every nerve in her body was alight, every inch of her skin hyper-aware of his movements. He could feel the tension coiling deep within her, a tight spring ready to snap.

"Boss," she pleaded, her voice breaking as she teetered on the brink. Her hands clenched into fists behind her back, the ropes digging slightly into her wrists. The mix of pain and pleasure only fueled her desire, her body writhing against the restraints. He didn't relent, his fingers moving faster now, the pressure unyielding.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clung to the edge. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the electric connection between them. His eyes never left her face, watching intently as she fell apart under his touch.

It didn't take long before she came.

With a sharp cry, her body convulsed as the orgasm crashed over her. Waves of pleasure radiated from her core, spreading through every limb until she was trembling uncontrollably. Her vision blurred, her mind consumed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Zenzou's hand slowed but didn't stop, drawing out the sensation until she was left breathless and spent.

When it finally subsided, she slumped against the ropes, her body limp and trembling with aftershocks. He stepped back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he admired the sight of her. The seat of her chair was soaked, a testament to his own performance.

"Oh, you must have needed this," he said, a hand stroking her thigh. He was pleased that it made her jump. "Is that why you came here tonight? Were you so excited that you couldn't wait another week?"

Her beautiful mouth pouted. "God forbid a girl has urges."

He chuckled. "Tell me what you want."

She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment even as her body begged for more. "I want… I want you to touch me," she finally managed, the words barely above a whisper.

"I am touching you," he replied, his fingers still teasing her entrance, but not drifting anywhere near her over-sensitized clitoris. "But I think you want more than that, don't you?"

Sarutobi nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Yes," she admitted, her voice breaking on the word. "Please fuck me."

"You'll have to wait for that," he said lightly.

She swallowed. "And before then... ?" she asked, hesitant.

He didn't answer, choosing instead to pull out one of her toys. Figuring out how to use it on her wouldn't be much of a challenge as she was naturally multi-orgasmic.

This one was a rabbit toy - it was much wider than the one she had used on herself last weekend. She hadn't noticed him taking one of them out of pure academic interest, since she'd been taking a shower at the time. He figured it wouldn't go amiss since she owned so many of them, and now it was coming in handy for this impromptu session.

He slid the toy inside of her, already slick from her arousal, set the vibration on low, and pressed the rabbit ears to her clit.

Her body jolted, already hypersensitive from her first orgasm.

"Color?" he asked her.

She sucked in her breath, and released it. "Green," she replied. "How did you... ?"

He turned it up a notch. "No more questions, Sarutobi." It was a warning.

Her arms being tied back meant that her body was completely accessible to him. While he fucked her with the vibrator, he reached out and cupped her breast, squeezing it lightly.

By now she was moaning. It was already enough that the vibrator stimulated spots deep inside her, but the added physicality of his weight on her erogenous zones was quickly proving to be a surefire path to another climax.

Unlike last time, he decided to be more expansive with the exploration of her body. His hands were mostly freed from the responsibility of having to touch her down there, thanks to the vibrator.

He kept stroking her body lightly, all while keeping a close eye on her breathing. He kissed her again, his tongue teasing hers as he caused her to shiver uncontrollably. His hands still rubbed circles over her nipples, teasing and playing with them but always gently. He moved his mouth to her breast, and kissed the swell of it, moving down until he reached the nipple. His mouth covered her breast and began to lick and suck on it.

It was intentional, him wanting to make her feel good. Even though she was tied up, it wasn't in his nature to be rough or cruel. Quite the opposite in fact; his hands were gentle and kind and light, making her feel so good. It was a slower build, intentionally paced so that she wouldn't feel overwhelmed.

But eventually, even Sarutobi couldn't hold back. As his fingers stroked her skin, vibrator pulsing inside of her and on her clit, lips kissing and suckling her tits, Sarutobi began to come.

She started to tremble, her legs shaking. And then all of a sudden, her back arched, her cunt contracting around the vibrator.

Her voice shattered, coming in staccatos. Most of it was gibberish, though he could make out a plea or two for him to take out the toy. He obliged, though his hands never let up, finding her tits and squeezing and pulling on them. Not painfully, just enough to keep her waves of pleasure going. It seemed to go on and on but finally, he pulled back and she was left breathless and panting on the chair.

Zenzou looked at the clock, checking the time. It was eight o'clock at night. The neighbors would probably have a problem with the next phase of their session, judging from the volume of the sounds she'd made so far.

"Well, Sarutobi, I guess I really will have to use that ball gag on you."

She flushed red, despite her body already dripping in sweat. "What? Why - "

"I'm going to fuck you from behind," he said, voice mild mannered for what he was suggesting. "You waited for this, and I like to reward my subordinates when they've been doing a good job. Does that sound like a good idea to you?"

She nodded eagerly, and he knelt down to untie the rope from her ankles. He kept her wrists tied, though.

"Stand up," he said softly, to which she did. He couldn't help but note that there was some difficulty there, as she wobbled towards the sound of his voice.

It wasn't hard to pick her up, and position her on the futon. He'd been tempted to push her, knowing she'd find it hot - but he was certain she would punish him the next day if he did so. She was vindictive like that.

She stood on her knees, while he gently pushed the ball gag into her mouth. He buckled the belt around her head, and then got undressed himself. After he rolled the condom onto his shaft, he positioned himself behind her. Then, his hands gripped her hips firmly, pulling her back towards him. She could feel the hardness of him pressing against her, and she let out a soft moan through the ball gag, her body arching instinctively.

He'd never really had a thing for BDSM. But the sight of his subordinate on her knees, arms bound behind her back and gagged... the lewdness of her body was doing something for him. Gintoki was a fool. If Zenzou was a second choice for her, then he'd make damned sure she'd finish first.

His fingers trailed down her spine, sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin.

"Show me how you feel," he said. "One finger for green, two for yellow, three for red."

She held her index finger up, teeth already biting down on the ball gag.

"Good."

With one swift motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the futon for support as he began to move.

He couldn't help but to hiss, finding her wet and warm as always.

Every thrust felt better than the last. He couldn't help but to wrap one hand around her hair, pulling it tight - not to hurt her, but to remind her that he was in control. She responded by arching her back.

This position felt deeper than the others before it. And it seemed to affect her more than usual, because suddenly she was howling through her ball gag.

The pace began to shift, still slow but deeper, more intentional. Her fingers clawed at the rope, desperate for something to hold onto as he pushed her closer to the edge.

He loved this—the way she surrendered to him completely, the way she trusted him to take control. Her submission was intoxicating, and it only fueled his desire. He wanted to push her further, to see just how far he could take her before she broke.

He wondered if he could make her come without touching her clit. The way she responded to him was genuinely unprecedented, and it made him feral.

"Fuck, you feel good."

She moaned at his praise, as he knew she would.

"I love it when you can't talk. You look so much better when you're taking me like this."

Part of him knew she had opposed him engaging in dirty talk before they ever slept together. But at this point - he didn't care. And judging from the guttural sounds coming from her throat, she didn't either.

The rhythm was faster this time, more urgent. He could feel the pleasure building inside him with each thrust, each movement sending waves of sensation through his body. Her breath came in short gasps, her fingers digging into the sheets as she tried to hold on.

"It's like you're asking to be fucked all the time. I don't know why anyone else hasn't."

Now she was howling again.

His hands gripped her hips tighter, pulling her back against him with every thrust, ensuring she felt every inch of him.

"Don't hold back - I wanna feel you come on my cock. Can you do that for me? Or am I gonna have to do it the hard way?"

Sarutobi couldn't resist the command in his voice. Her body tightened around him, every muscle coiled and trembling as the pleasure surged through her like a wildfire. She cried out, her voice breaking as the last wave of her release crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air. He didn't let up, his thrusts relentless, driving her higher and higher until she thought she might shatter. Her fingers clawed at the sheets again, her back arching as she surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation.

He groaned, low and guttural, as he felt her body convulse around him, milking him as much as she could. His own release was close, and he could feel the tension coiling in his gut, ready to snap. "Good girl," he rasped, his voice thick with desire and possession.

With one final, deep thrust, he spilled into her, his body shuddering as he gave himself over to the same ecstasy that had consumed her.

Aftercare was important. Even though Zenzou wanted nothing more than to crash into his room after the scene ended, he knew it had taken more of a toll on her. So after a minute of lying still, he had taken off all her bindings, and dragged her - and him, to the bathroom, letting her rest her head on the side of the bathtub as he filled it with hot water.

Tearing apart a sachet of bath salts, he poured all of its contents into the tub, and mixed it around with his hand. The water instantly turned milky, scenting the whole room with flowers.

She seemed to perk up after the tub was almost full, stirring her head in his direction.

"Glasses are on the side," he said. He was re-reading last week's copy of JUMP, even though the steam was starting to make the pages damp.

She tilted her head, but decided not to put them on just yet. "Mm... thanks. Where's the shampoo and conditioner?"

He pointed in the opposite direction. Sarutobi floated to the other side, and started washing her hair.

It was interesting to see her being so meticulous. Though he could tell she was sleepy, it didn't stop her from sectioning her hair in parts, combing each one with plenty of conditioner. Though she wasn't paying any attention to him at the moment, there was something intimate about it.

Maybe they could fuck in his tub next week. He'd have to bring it up later. He didn't feel like interrupting whatever she was doing at the moment.

"Anything exciting happening in Two Punch Man?" she asked, combing her fingers through her wet hair. He was vividly reminded of the way it felt in between his fingers. Soft and silky. A part of her. Something inextricably linked to her image whenever he thought about her.

"Nah. But I'm hoping that this arc wraps up soon."

She was being so... normal. Especially towards him. Was this what she needed all along to fix her personality issues? A spare cock on hand and BDSM equipment?

Sarutobi held her nose and then plunged underwater, rinsing off the conditioner, leaving the surface with foamy bubbles on top. When she popped up again, her skin was glimmering, and despite himself, he couldn't help but to look at her again.

She floated towards him, causing him to lower his magazine.

"Hey, boss... "

"Hm?"

She knelt down, and kissed him. Not erotically. But it lasted for a second, and he stilled, as he took it in.

"Thanks for making my first scene really good." She bit her lip, as if it was killing her to say it. "I... I really liked it."

If he was more of a fool, he would have replied, "I did too."

But he didn't.

Instead - "You're welcome. Make sure my futon's dry cleaned and drop it off on the porch tomorrow afternoon."

He expected her to punch him. Or get upset. Anything to keep this distance between them.

But she didn't.

She simply smiled, as if she'd known he'd say that. "Of course, boss."

And then she stepped out of the tub with her glasses in hand, drying herself with a towel, and leaving the bathroom with him. She shut the door, and then there he was.

Alone.

It was a few minutes before Zenzou sighed, letting himself say what he'd been thinking all along.

"What am I doing here... ?"

- tbc 

Chapter Text

The next day, after he put away the clean futon that had been carelessly dropped on his porch, Zenzou made his way towards Okuni's roof. Although he hadn't visited her in a while, he was now desperate to seek validation from the fortune teller. She was now a bit more grown up at thirteen. Instead of reading shojo mangas like the first time he'd met her, now she was scrolling down TikToks on her smartphone.

She put down her mobile, always happy to see him. As was his habit, he bought her a pizza.

"I need you to read me my fortune," he said, not wanting to beat around the bush. As he had saved her life years ago, she told him that he was entitled to a lifetime of free fortune-telling. He had little interest in it at the time, but now constituted an emergency.

Okuni opened the cardboard box, and took out a slice of pizza, biting into it.

He waited. She chewed for a moment, swallowed, and then chuckled.

"You're cooked," she said.

"Please tell me this applies to me hemorrhoids and not my... " Zenzou paused. He definitely was not going to say 'lover'. Because he was definitely not interested in dating anyone, least of all his sexy, masochistic, subordinate who looked incredibly hot writhing under his mouth -

"Oh I mean, you're doomed with that too," Okuni added. She took another bite of Nin-Nin's special delivery, sucking in a string of mozzarella cheese. "But with the, uh, romance department - if I'm reading your intent correctly - the fates are telling me that you're walking into a trap."

"Great," Zenzou said. He hoped the fates weren't telling her too much of the sordid details, because there was actually no good explanation for the predicament that was in. That said, the prophetess sometimes spoke like a book, which Zenzou supposed was from a lifetime of spending it secluded from most of society. That he was a ninja able to sneak in meant he was one of the few people she could speak to who lived life outside of her compound. Not that it was difficult. The old ladies who guarded the estate couldn't spot a bat to save their lives, as far as he was concerned.

Okuni seemed somewhat impressed with it, though. "What's her name?"

"I thought you figured out that stuff already."

She frowned. "Sort of. It's pretty vague sometimes. I get the general gist most of the time. It seems a bit complicated, your situation."

"That's an understatement."

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

His answer was simple and to the point. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"It's nothing like your shojo mangas. Well, there's a triangle involved. But other than that... it's not really shojo-like."

He certainly had never read a shojo manga (not that he read many in the first place) that involved a boss tying up a subordinate, and making it their personal goal to make a woman come as much as possible. Hell, was that even something that even existed in the realm of R-18 doujinshis?

Now the prophetess raised her eyebrow.

"So you're in love with her, but she doesn't love you back?"

"... Not really. I was just... dragged into something troublesome."

More like - I'm being used for sex education, but we never planned an ending point, and now I think it might really be a problem if I keep going.

"Huh. That is complicated." Okuni chewed on another string of mozzarella cheese. "Is there, you know, a way you can stop being involved in the triangle?"

Saying no to Sarutobi and calling this whole thing off. Zenzou pinched the bridge of his nose.

The very concept of her accepting no was fucking ridiculous. If the Yorozuya himself hadn't figured out to tell her no, how was he - a person Sarutobi felt wholly comfortable to ignore most of his wishes and desires - supposed to put a stop to this?

"I wish."

And there was a small part of him that was man enough to admit that he enjoyed playing with fire. It was the whole conquest thing. A male libido issue, having a no-strings attached affair with one of the horniest characters in the series. A monk would have a hard time turning such an opportunity down.

But...

One day, Sarutobi could try her hand again with Gintoki, leaving him behind. A part of him knew that was the point of doing all of this. And honestly - if she ever managed to pull it off on her thousandth try - well, good for her. He'd wish her the best of luck, because that samurai was truly one of the most annoying people who lived in Edo, bar none even to Sarutobi herself.

If this happened, he knew she would one day turn on him again and never want to acknowledge that they'd ever slept together. Which was... although unpleasant, he'd understand. Their relationship was downright inappropriate as it was.

Okuni patted Zenzou on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. "That bad, huh?"

That did it.

"You're right," he decided abruptly. "I've got to call it off." He whipped out his phone, fully intending to send a text to his subordinate, to tell her that the whole thing was over. It was in their contract. He was allowed to do it, even if it meant she would get angry at him.

And then he saw there was another text from her.

Hey boss. I just wanted to say thank you again for everything you've done for me lately.
I'd like to plan a session with me doing all the work this time, okay? 🖤

- S

He stared at the text for a good minute, before he noticed Okuni was looking at him, mildly disgusted.

"So you're having an affair," she accused him. "Taking advantage of your higher position? I wouldn't have expected it from someone like you."

"No! Hell, she's the one who came to me! Neither of us are cheating on our spouses, and wait a minute - why am I even defending this to you?" Zenzou was about to tear his hair out, before stopping himself momentarily, choosing to shove his phone inside his pockets instead. "It doesn't matter. It's - it's - "

He sighed deeply, trying to think of a way to explain it to someone who was almost half his age. "I think... if I had been a better person, we could have been lovers when we were younger. Back then, I let her down in a lot of ways, and over time, someone else took my place."

"But you're in her life now, right?"

"I'm a substitute for someone else."

He wasn't sad about it. Not really. In their line of work, romantic relationships were a risk. In a way, what they were doing was relatively healthy. Get the physical urges and stress out of the way so that they could perform better on the field. Avoid emotional entanglements with minimal investment. This exchange was ruthlessly efficient.

In a way, it was a relief to not be responsible for someone else's happiness. There was something wonderful about only being on the hook for an orgasm - nothing more, nothing less. Anything past that physical boundary, he could skip it, because he could just point out that he... wasn't her boyfriend. Or even, really, a friend.

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No, because it's always been like this." Although he held memories of a time where Sarutobi was not obsessed with Sakata Gintoki, her love since then had only grown steadfast as the years passed by. She had refused to change her hair even in the time skip out of wanting to stay looking the same for the samurai.

As much as he hated the samurai for taking his last copy of Jump at the convenience store, this wasn't an arena that Zenzou wanted to compete in. People always had expectations for him, in one way or another. That he mostly failed to live up to them one way was irrelevant.

"This kind of relationship sounds unstable," Okuni commented. "Not that it's my business to share, but I've unfortunately met with more than a few men and women who were hoping for a more favorable outcome in these kinds of... situations."

"Man. You must be like a therapist for all these grown-ups. No wonder you're raking in the cash."

"Sometimes the truth isn't a beautiful thing," Okuni said. "But people make decisions based on what they know. And if I can help them with my gifts, then isn't that the point of them coming to see me, you included?"

He couldn't refute any of it.

She finally put down her slice, full now. "What's the end game here, for you?"

The answer came to him easily, as he'd already thought about it in full length. "For her to be happy."

Truthfully, the shared history they had with each other - as much as either of them refused to discuss it - went deeper than most. The sex was only the tip of the iceberg. He had known her for so many phases of her life, even as time had eroded that connection over the years. It was the reason why, when the sixteen year old Sarutobi had broken down in tears, rejecting him soundly that night, he had accepted it on several levels, even to this day. He couldn't stand to see her crying; it was as simple as that.

Okuni absorbed this, and was deep in thought herself. Wiping her hands clean on a napkin, she mused, "But is that your responsibility?"

Images of his dying father flashed into his mind, telling him to take care of her on his deathbed. Sarutobi, looking at him straight with tears in his eyes. Her asking, "... That person doesn't want to be with me unless I'm experienced. What would you do in my position?"

Zenzou sighed.

"It's not my responsibility, but it damn sure feels like it is."

One last time. That's what he told himself as he knocked on her doorstep. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he was in for today. She had promised to take care of him today. Whatever that looked like, he hoped it didn't involve her flogging him with a leather strap.

Then again, they'd been pretty good at communicating what was okay in and out of the bedroom. That was probably the only thing they could ever mutually agree on. Everything else was a hot mess.

His subordinate opened the door, a smile playing on her lips. She was dressed to kill. This time, she'd chosen a white lacy set, resplendent with stockings and garters. He took his time, looking at her up and down. Knowing this was what she expected of him.

He couldn't help but to smile. She was unpredictable in a lot of ways. But this - this was always a sure thing. Her having a perfect body, unafraid to wear the skimpiest outfits known to man, not giving a damn about who could see it. Even though this was a charade, he was fond of her for those little reasons.

"Trying to give the neighbors something to look at?" Zenzou asked nonchalantly, and she grabbed his collar of his robes, pulling him close.

"Of course," she breathed, and kissed him.

It almost felt real.

And then the door closed behind them, leaving the two of them in the privacy of her apartment.

All at once, her hands were everywhere—cupping his face with a kind of desperate tenderness as their mouths collided, her fingers tangling in his hair before sliding slowly down the length of his back, tracing the shape of him, gliding over his hips, and finally gripping him tightly, pulling him flush against her.

He steered them into the bedroom, their movements unsteady and breathless, stumbling through the dim hallway in a tangle of limbs and urgency. The path was a blur of touches and half-muffled gasps until, with a sudden force, he threw her onto the futon. Before she could fully catch her breath or process the shift, he was already on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of his body.

"Sarutobi, it's only been half a week. Have you really missed me that much?"

She rolled her eyes and flipped him over, straddling him. Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles as she leaned down to kiss him. Her lips were soft and demanding, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she ground herself against him. He could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her panties, and he groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

And then she pulled back, her eyes amused.

"You're saying all of that, boss, but you're already rock hard."

Her boss couldn't help but to chuckle. "Touché."

"Like I said, I was supposed to take care of you today. So, if you could just stop being so mouthy, I'd like to get to business." She took an elastic band from her nightstand, and tied her hair up in a ponytail. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help from appreciating the prelude to what was surely a fantastic blowjob to come.

"I didn't imagine you'd be so bossy," he muttered, but started taking off his clothes all the same. Her body was warm against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He shifted uncomfortably, already feeling the tension coiling in his lower abdomen.

"Get used to it," she said briskly, pulling his pants down.

Despite his complaints, there was something wonderful about letting her push him around. He wasn't going question it for now - it was too much work. She then lowered her mouth, and then he stopped thinking entirely.

She took him in slowly, savoring the weight of him on her tongue, the way he stretched her lips wide. His breath hitched as she pushed deeper, the tip brushing the back of her throat. She then relaxed, letting him slide further, her mouth instinctively adjusting to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming—the fullness, the warmth, the way he seemed to take up every inch of her mouth.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Keep going."

She swallowed him down, her throat opening for him as he thrust deeper, his grip on her hair tightening. As she increased her pace, her eyes watered - but she didn't pull away. Instead, she focused on the pleasure she could feel radiating from him, the way his breath quickened, the way his hips moved with a rhythm that was almost desperate.

God. She was deepthroating him, wasn't she? He closed his eyes, wondering if there was any end in sight for her talents.

She sucked him harder, her lips tight around him as she moved up and down, her throat opening for him every time he pushed deeper. She could feel him getting closer, could feel the way his body was tensing, and he knew he was about to lose it.

Then she pulled away, as if she knew he was about to come. It left him cursing, even though she moved her mouth to his balls, stroking his cock with her hand.

Bitch.

And then she started sucking on his balls, her mouth exquisitely handling one at a time, and it almost catapulted him into a state of nirvana.

She alternated between the two, stroking him, sucking him, and then blowing him... and then whenever it looked like he was about to come, she would slow her hands, pulling her mouth strategically away from his cock.

It was torture.

The third time he'd been brought down from yet another orgasm, he had stopped complaining at that point. There was a point to all of this, he knew.

It didn't mean she didn't piss him off. But surely she had to get tired. Her jaw couldn't last forever... or could it?

He figured it out the fourth time she denied him. She was trying to make him beg.

"You're fucked up, you know that?" he said, groaning as she withdrew her mouth from him.

She smiled, and continued to stroke him expertly. "That's what you get for stealing my vibrator," she said, wrapping her hand around him, her grip even tighter than before.

He groaned, his hands gripping the sheets as his body responded with an intensity that was almost painful. Traitor. "I was - ahh - going to bring it back - "

She clucked her tongue, disapproving. "You should have asked for permission to borrow my things," she said sweetly, as if she didn't make it a routine habit to violate Gintoki's boundaries at any given time. "I would've said yes, you know."

"Fuck off," he said. "The amount of times you've broken into my damn house, and taken things that weren't yours - "

Sarutobi let go of him abruptly, shifting away from him. She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.

Despite himself, he wasn't so proud that he could look away from her. His subordinate had a perfect chest, and most of the time it was hidden in plain sight.

She leaned down, and then he stopped breathing.

Her hands moved to cup her breasts as she pressed them against his length. Then - as if it wasn't hot enough, she began to move them against him in a slow, sensual rhythm.

To say that his brain short-circuited was probably an understatement.

Sarutobi's voice cut through the static of his head. "It's never too late for you to apologize, boss. But don't worry. I've got all night, you see."

Taming him through the sheer power of a titjob. She had correctly identified where his eyes went in their past encounters, and now she took the knowledge to turn into a succubus sent from the devil's lair. He couldn't even muster the energy to argue with her anymore, knowing that the ball was in her court.

She worked him with her breasts, still slick with his precum and her saliva. Her movements were slow and deliberate; eyes locked onto his as she teased him. She could see the tension building in him, his body tightening as she moved, and she smiled, her lips curling into a sly grin.

The whole scene was so depraved and hot that his brain was starting to frazzle out. He wasn't sure if he could stand more than a minute of this.

Zenzou rested a hand on his eyes, exhausted. His cock was already hard enough as it was; everyone had their limits. He should have known that Sarutobi - when she put her mind to it - could drive any man mad. Even if she wasn't in love with him.

"Fuck it. You win. I'm sorry. Please let me cum."

That was enough begging in his book. Whatever. She might as well kill him at this point via blue balls, because this was just... unbearable.

Her face lit up.

"What a good boy you are," she purred, and he hated how her voice sent a shot of longing in his loins. "Does that mean you're ready to fuck?"

A rhetorical question. A trap.

He walked into it anyway. "Please."

Sarutobi took her sweet time as she opened a fresh pack of condoms. Tearing off the wrapper of one, she smirked, before putting it in her mouth.

"Wait, what are you doing - "

She ignored him, and then applied the prophylactic on his shaft using her mouth. The condom rolled neatly down with the help of her lips, and he could feel the back of her throat as she bottomed out.

He would have been impressed with it, had he not been utterly desperate to be inside her.

Mercifully, she'd gotten the memo, slipping out of her panties. She adjusted herself, so that she was on top of him, and pressed the tip of his length against her entrance. For some reason, teasing him had gotten her worked up, too.

He was momentarily tempted to overpower her. Take control of the situation. Pound away and just... fuck her into oblivion. She probably wouldn't mind it, either.

But something niggled at him, that this performance was just as much for her benefit as it was his. The push and pull dynamic that had characterized much of their life was coming into full form now. She needed to know that she was capable of seducing someone, and he was a blank space, so to speak - for her to experiment on.

All of his irritation suddenly... disappeared.

His hands settled on her hips, the warmth of his palms seeping into her skin. She shivered at the contact, a soft moan escaping her lips.

She began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust making her shudder with pleasure. The rhythm was unhurried, almost torturous in its slowness, drawing out every sensation, every pulse of pleasure that coursed through both of them.

He could feel the way her cunt gripped around him, the heat and wetness of her driving him to the brink of madness.

She arched her back further, her body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her. She moved with precision, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her gasp.

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, a rhythmic slap that echoed their growing desire. She cried out, her moans growing louder with each movement, each press of his body against hers. He groaned her name, his fingers digging into her hips, his thrusts becoming more insistent. The tension between them was palpable, a coil tightening with each thrust that brought them closer to the edge.

Her fingers started stroking her clit, causing her to grow even tighter and wetter around him. Her, bouncing on him, her tits going up and down as she pleasured herself, with hair tied up... he knew the image would be permanently seared into his mind.

"I've been waiting for you all day," she moaned. "I can't even use my vibrators anymore. I need you."

It would have been a boost to his ego, if he had any chance in believing they could last a month past this charade. He only responded by leaning forward, his chest pressing against hers as he captured his lips with hers, their tongues tangling in a fierce kiss.

Her breath started to come in short, shallow gasps, her body trembling with the need for release. He could feel her desperation, the way her hips moved against his, seeking more, seeking everything. The pace quickened, and their bodies moved in perfect sync; their desire driving them forward with relentless intensity.

She cried out again, her voice breaking as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. He gripped her thighs, hoping against hope that he would last. Her fingers strummed faster than ever, working her towards another explosive orgasm.

And then a wave crashed over her, her climax hitting her with a force that left her breathless. He followed her over the edge, his own release tearing through him, his body trembling with the intensity of it.

He'd had never come so hard in his entire life. It was as if she had pulled something out of him that he hadn't known existed; for his orgasm kept going on, and on. When it finally petered, he was almost dizzy from how lightheaded he was.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling in the air - right before she collapsed on top of him.

She had fixed him a drink once he was out of the shower, toweling his hair dry. She had been lounging on her couch, reading a copy of Maso Weekly. The cover had a suspicious looking model, completely bound with shibari and a spreader bar chained to her thighs.

He eyed his whiskey warily, but took it all the same. "... Thanks."

"You're welcome." She shut her magazine and looked at him expectantly. "Listen, I've been thinking... "

He raised an eyebrow.

"I should go on birth control, shouldn't I?" Her eyes seemed somewhat excited at this idea, and he almost choked on his drink. "I've heard it feels better when you have sex without a condom."

"... is that really what you think about all day?"

Sarutobi pouted. "And here I thought you'd be thrilled. Don't men prefer having raw sex?"

"They do, but - "

What's our goal here? 

What exactly are we doing here?

When do you think we'll stop fucking each other?

When are you going to call it quits and go back to him?

She was looking at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "... Boss?" she asked nervously, after he didn't say anything for a few seconds.

Zenzou sighed.

In the end, he was just another fool hedging his bets.

"It's nothing."

- tbc

Chapter Text

The hospital, thankfully, wasn't a place that Ayame visited all that often. It was true that shinobi got hurt once in a while, but their jobs often involved as little face-to-face contact as possible. Secrecy and the need to disappear into the shadows minimized the risk of physical harm.

"Sarutobi-san?" Her gynecologist popped out of the office, holding a clipboard.

"Yes, that's me."

She felt a bit uneasy here, although she knew that everything in the room was supposed to be confidential.

"Thanks for coming in this afternoon. I checked your records - it seems like a few weeks ago, you were requesting a STD test, which was completely clear. And your blood work seems to be in good condition too."

"Mm."

"So what brings you here today?"

"I'd like to start birth control." It was somehow more embarrassing for her to admit it out loud to a stranger, knowing what sort of ... activities, she'd done lately.

Her doctor nodded, clicking on her pen. "Right. I'll just ask you a few questions, so I can find the right fit for you. When was the last time you had your period?"

"Five days ago."

"Do you suffer from heavy periods, or complications of an irregular cycle?"

"No."

There was a bit of scribbling on her clipboard, and then she moved onto the next question. "Are you sexually active?"

Ayame couldn't help but feel her face turn bright red, even though it was a perfectly normal question to ask in this context. "Yes."

"Multiple partners, or just one?"

God. The idea of her having a threesome was exciting, even though there was no chance in hell of that happening. At least her fantasies were still free. "Just one."

"Do you have a history of depression or suicidal ideation?"

Now the questions were getting really personal. Ayame frowned, and then said, "No."

At the look of concern on her face, the doctor looked up. "I only ask because some women report side effects. It's extremely rare, but it can happen. Birth control means that it's manipulating your natural hormones, which can affect mood stabilization."

"Oh."

"But since you've answered no to most of these questions, I think there are a few options here. The most conventional way is to take a pill everyday at the same time."

Ayame shook her head. "No, that won't work with my... lifestyle." Sometimes missions required her to be away for two weeks at a time. It wouldn't do for her to run out of pills or be forced to take them at an inconvenient time.

"There's the depo shot, which you'll have to come see me every three months. It'll take about seven days to take full effect, but it's less intrusive than the IUDs, which are quite painful to insert."

"So why offer the IUDs?"

"Oh, because they last over a year. They're popular with young girls who might be getting into their first relationship with somebody, and their parents might not want any accidents to happen on their watch. But they can also decrease libido and it'll be hard to conceive for a while after taking it out."

Ayame chewed her lip. "I guess I'll go with the depo shot then." She didn't really know how long her... fling... or whatever it was, would last.

Twenty minutes later, she had walked out of the office and into the main hospital lobby, feeling a bit lightheaded. The shot had made her arm feel a bit numb, and the whole experience had been, overall, unsettling.

Well, it doesn't matter, because now I don't have to worry about condoms!

So distracted was she by the thought of having condom-less sex, that she bumped into someone, nearly knocking them over.

"Oi, Sacchan! Watch where you're going!"

She froze, and then saw Sakata Gintoki, looking extremely cranky.

"Ah, sorry!" Her face turned bright red, and then her heart fluttered.

She forced himself to act normal. After all she'd experienced, she was starting to learn that men didn't exactly want clingy women. Even for bedroom activities, you still needed to set a mood so that two people could bounce off of each other, and if something went wrong, it could derail the scene from progressing further. It was like fighting, in a way.

Ayame kept her hands to herself, straightening her body out, her voice chipper as usual. "What brings you to the hospital, Gin-san?" She resisted making a sexy nurse joke, or breaking out the usual shibari ropes like she normally would in front of him.

"Shinpachi's got an ankle sprain. Fell off the damn roof on a job, so I had to carry his sorry ass here." Gintoki looked a bit irritated. "And you? You're not sick or hurt, are you?"

He cares about me! she crowed inwardly. She smiled so brightly that it creeped him out. "No! I was just here for a checkup. That's all!"

"Oh. Well... that's good, I guess."

"Thank you for your concern, Gin-san!"

"I'll see you around, then - no wait, hold the phone. I don't want to see you at all. I've been actually enjoying my empty attic for the last few weeks. Whatever you're up to that keeps you busy - keep doing it."

He was so hot and rude, she thought to herself, sighing happily. "Okay, Gin-san," Ayame said. "Whatever you say."

The samurai turned his back, seemingly relieved that she wasn't up to her usual antics. She watched him go up the stairs to a different part of the hospital, and then she cheerfully excited the building.

Otae was going to be so jealous, seriously. She pondered if Tsukki would be hurt, too, if she told her evidence that Gintoki cared about her. Take that, you cold bitch!

But then she arrived in the middle of the street, and replayed the scene in her head. It was probably her need to feel more objective about it these days.

Whatever you're up to that keeps you busy - keep doing it.

That was a bit... hurtful, honestly. Part of her had been distracted from stalking Gintoki, for sure. Sleeping with her boss had physically and mentally distracted her. She wasn't complaining, but that meant she had cut out the more problematic issues in her pursuit of the samurai.

And now, she was finding out that Gintoki hadn't missed her one bit, even though he had noticed her absence.

Normally, Ayame would have been thrilled for any sign of acknowledgement. Most of the time, she was so deprived of human connection that stalking satisfied her need for companionship in between missions and shifts at the ninja cafe.

But now... the difference between the casual sex and stalking was almost night and day. It wasn't like her boss was her number one choice, or second, or third, or even fourth on her fuck list. She would have settled for Ginpachi-sensei, the hot Enmi version of Gintoki from the Be Forever Yorozuya movie, the Shiroyasha, the Leukocyte King, or the other alternative Gintokis that existed in other universes or spinoff franchises. In that sense, she was aiming for the bottom of the barrel.

And yet... there she was. Put off by the notion that Sakata Gintoki, for all intents and matters, was so blunt about not wanting her.

Even her boss, who never really liked her as a person, or saw her as a woman at the beginning of their contract, still made some effort for her to impose herself on him from time to time. Even though neither of them had expected anything good to come out of it, the deal they'd made with each other had produced far more intimacy in a month than the last decade she spent pursuing the samurai.

No, I can't think like this! Her mind spoke up for once. I didn't give up when Gintoki threw me out of the window or ran over me with a truck. Why would I give up now?

The devil on her shoulder was just as loud and noisy. Because honestly? I could get a lot more for my efforts. I don't even do half of the shit for my boss that I'd do for Gintoki, but if we're being honest with ourselves, only one out of two has ever made me cum, or even tried anything that I wanted sexually. Plus, let's be real - Gintoki should shower more often.

The angel on her shoulder was angry. Don't slander Gintoki like that! He's just shy and needs more time to warm up to a passionate, vibrant woman like me! And let's not stigmatize mentally ill people who can't keep up with their hygiene routines from time to time.

The devil looked almost bored. Fifteen years of Shonen Jump Weekly serialization and he can't even decide if he wants a set of double D's on his dick? Man's either gay, pining over someone else, or just asexual. And I don't think he's asexual, because I've seen him jack off at least three times a week.

"Shut up, both of you!" Ayame yelled, and banged her head against the wall.

Overthinking was bad for her morale. She decided that maybe the thing to do was to go see her friends, or take up a week-long mission to distract herself from her personal life. Kabuki-chou, thankfully, wasn't far from where she was located.

"Yeah, I don't think he actually cares either way," Otae said cheerfully, causing Ayame to glare daggers at her. "I mean, I've been telling you the same thing for years, Sacchan. Why are you asking me now for my opinion?"

Her attention was cut short, as Kondo was getting a little too close to them, lying underneath the Snack Smile booth. With the practiced motion of something she must have done for a thousand times, the number one cabaret girl of Snack Smile gave him a vicious kick, pushing him all the way back to the other side of the wall. She then turned to her "love rival", smiling as if nothing strange was going on.

Ayame downed the rest of her drink, and then held up her glass once more.

"But it's not faiiiiiiiiir," she whined, while Tae filled up the top of her champagne glass with Dom Peri. It was her fourth drink, and she was becoming slightly tipsy. "I've tried sooooo hard, to be his perfect woman. I even started having s- "

It was a good thing she started to choke on her drink, almost realizing what she just said.

Tae took advantage of the situation and whacked the kunoichi on the back. Thankfully, she hadn't even figured out what Ayame had been about to say. "Get yourself together, Sacchan!"

When Ayame's eyes stopped watering, she started sniffing. "I just - when is it enough? Am I not good enough? Do I need to start dressing in a black kimono with maple leaves -"

"Who said I was interested in that loser!" Tsukuyo yelled over the speakerphone, grumpy at being called early in the evening during a patrol shift. "He's all yours if ya want him, Sacchan!"

Her tears instantly dried up. "I've tried, you cold bitch! And it doesn't help! I've dressed sexy, I've tried kidnapping him, used my coworkers to find him when he went missing for two years, helped save his damn organs from getting harvested, and what does that bastard say once he sees I'm coming from the hospital? He says, I don't want to see you at all! Even when I totally haven't seen him for a few weeks!"

"... Hold on," Tae said, holding up a hand, frowning. "This stuff never used to bother you, it used to turn you on! And I'd actually kill for this gorilla to stop harassing me for weeks. What's going on?"

"Otae-san, I'll gladly stay away from you for weeks if it means we could get married at the end of it - "

Tae kicked the police commander under the booth once again, shutting him up.

Kyuubei cleared their throat, distracting them from Kondo. "Let me guess. You got diagnosed with cancer, and you went to the hospital for your chemotherapy treatments. Now you're upset that your chances to attain Sakata-san are increasingly limited." The clan leader nodded confidently, continuing in their own dignified (delusional) way. "After all, the Sacchan-san that I know would have never give up on this sort of thing unless it was a life or death situation."

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M LOSING MY HAIR? ALSO, WHY ARE YOU ACTING AS IF I'M DYING?"

"No," Kyuubei replied sagely. "But we were all there for the Be Forever Yorozuya movie, and you were the only person who bothered to stay the same for Gintoki. The rest of us liked our haircuts. I mean, they didn't do us any favors in the looks department, but at least we didn't have to use as much shampoo or conditioner."

"That - that was - "

"That is suspicious," Tsukuyo agreed. "Sacchan, even when Kintoki pretending to be Gintoki, you were still really into Gintoki when you bumped into him despite all that brainwashing. If it's not cancer, might it have been possible that you've gotten a lobotomy from the hospital?"

"Why are you all talking like the hospital is conspiring to make me this way?! Also, fuck you, Tsukki! You're just calling me an idiot but in your own back-handed way!"

"Now, now, Sacchan. We're all just concerned, that's all. It's very out of character for you to be introspective about Gintoki. No matter how many chapters of apathy and Gintoki trying his best to ignore you, you still tried your very best to ignore all of the signs til the very end of the series." Tae smiled sadly, and beckoned one of the other waiters at Snack Smile to bring over another bottle of Dom Perignon. "Either some Amanto virus has affected your brain, or you're... hm. You're going through some very delayed character development, perhaps?"

"But I don't wanna get over him," Ayame howled. "I want to get him, get married, and have kids with him, and live happily ever after!"

There was silence from all of the other members of Diamond Perfume, before they all burst out laughing.

"Get married? Haaaaah?" Tae wheezed. "Get married to that loser who can't even pay his own rent each month? I mean, I saw those delusional New Years cards you sent out to us in season one, Sacchan, but I didn't think you actually wanted to have kids with him!"

"You'll be providing for a guy who, no offense, stinks up the place with his boozing." Kyuubei was trying to keep their face stoic, but failing miserably. "It's one thing to want to sleep with him - well, most of the fangirls in this fandom do. But to have a family with him? That's another thing entirely."

"If you marry him, you'll save another person from misery," Tsukuyo said, although Ayame knew the courtesan was making fun of her. "Did I ever tell you, there were some rumors going around that Gintoki has ED? Must've been all the strawberry milk and the boozing that causes his lil Gin-chan to not work at the best of times - "

"Noooooooooooooo!" yelled Ayame, clapping her hands over her ears. "Stop it, already! Don't ruin what's left of this! This is the only thing I've got going on for me, you bitches!"

In the end, she was on the hook for three bottles of Dom Perignon. It was no trouble for her to pay the bill, but she still couldn't help flipping off Tae as she handed over the requisite cash.

"The Bakufu must be paying real nice these days, huh?" the bitch said, bowing to her anyways as Ayame exited Snack Smile. "Come see me again, if you're happy to go through more disillusionment and a dose of reality."

"Never again!" Ayame cried out, striding out of the club with a fist to the air. "That's the last time I'll ask for advice from you three miserable wenches!"

As if they had any idea of what she was up to. She scoffed quietly to herself, knowing that they were all pure, untouched virgins who couldn't hold a candle to her love experience.

Wait wait - scratch that. It was sex experience, goddammit. There was absolutely no love to be shared between her and her boss. It was genuinely carnal. He didn't love her, and she didn't love him. They enjoyed each others' bodies, and that was that. Purely physical.

Speaking of which, she flicked her mobile open. Her boss given her a call earlier, but over the noise of the cabaret club, she'd missed it.

She debated calling him back, but who knew if Kabuki-chou had spies around town. Whatever conversation they were about to have, it was likely to be explicit, or classified. She decided to go home and then give him a call.

Once Ayame leapt onto the rooftop of her building, it was only a quick walk until she reached her apartment. Checking the premises, she made sure no one could see her before slipping into her bedroom window. Her neighbor was too nosy for their own good, and the notes stuck on her doorway complaining how loud she was at night hadn't done much to make it a warm home environment.

Zenzou usually texted her about their arrangements, so to deliberately choose to call her probably meant something different. It was probably a mission or something, which she supposed would be a good distraction from her latest disillusionment with Gintoki.

Sinking into her couch, she dialed her boss, and bit her fingernail.

He picked up, his voice raspy on the phone. "Sarutobi?"

"Yeah, it's me. I got your call. What's up?"

"I'm sick with a cold, so I don't think I'll be able to meet you for this week's activities. I know you had a lot planned, but I didn't want you to catch it."

Despite herself, she couldn't feel somewhat disappointed. Their sessions were something that she looked forward to; in between them, she was always researching things that she wanted to try out with him. "That's too bad. I just came home from the clinic, too."

"Huh? What happened?" There was a cough here and there. "Did you get sick, too?"

"I got on birth control, idiot. Don't you remember? So now, I'll be your personal cum dumpster - "

"Sarutobi, please. Let's not be so crass," he replied, his voice exasperated. But she knew enough by now that the corner of his mouth was quirking upwards. "And anyways, doesn't that sort of thing take a while to be fully effective?"

"The lady doctor said it'd take about a week or so to kick in. But you could come on my face or my tits, if you get well before then."

"Is there any time where you're not thinking about sex?"

"Very rarely. When I'm on a mission and waiting for a target to come out of his house, it gets really boring. So sometimes, my imagination goes wild. It's a great way to spend hours staking out someone's property."

"Fair enough. I just assumed you were pent up right now."

"I mean, I am. I'm always... ready to go." It was odd how once she started sleeping with someone, her libido had only gone up since then. It was like she was a teenager again, excited to play with her body and to see what sorts of things could get her going. Right now, she was somewhat drunk and fairly horny - a situation she would remedy as soon as possible. Probably after he hung up the phone, in fact.

There was a long pause, and for a moment she could only hear his breathing.

"... Boss?" She frowned, and wondered if he was about to hang up.

"What would you do if I was there right now?" His voice was raspy again, but it added a different dimension to it, especially over the phone.

She didn't miss the intent of his question, behind the feigned nonchalance. But she had to make sure of it first.

"Hmm... that depends. Are we here for business, or pleasure?"

"Hey, look. If you start off the conversation talking about me, finishing on your face - I'm going to think that this is something you actually want me to do."

Slowly, she slipped her hand into her shorts.

"Of course I want you to do it. It's degrading." Her fingers started to stroke her sex, slowly building up some tension that had already started with hearing his voice over the line.

Despite her personal opinion of Zenzou as a human being, the truth was - he was horrifically, fantastically, and almost absurdly good in bed. It was either pride or his ego - just to prove that he could give her as much pleasure as she wanted. Or maybe, he was still holding a grudge from her not wanting to sleep with him the first time the opportunity had come up. She wouldn't put it past him to be so petty - her boss still hadn't forgiven Gintoki for accidentally crushing one of his special-order Jump figurines.

"So lead me through the beginning of next week. What would you do if I was there in your room, right now?"

He wasn't subtle, and with all the dirty talk in their past encounters, his voice was enough to get her going. She liked to think it was her own influence that he was indulging her in a bout of phone sex, but it was also flattering to hear that someone was interested in her. Even, or perhaps especially, if it was for sexual gratification.

"I would start off the same way like I did last time," Ayame said, her voice dropping lower and lower. "I'd get on my knees, and suck you off. But I wouldn't delay it, because I know it pissed you off at first."

"Damn straight you did. But it was worth it in the end. I've never come that hard in my life." She heard something rustling in the background, and enjoyed the mental image of him taking his clothes off.

"See? I told you I'd take care of you," she purred, rubbing her clit in little circles now. "Anyways. This time, you'll stop me. And then you'll say, 'you deserve to get punished for that'."

"And after that... ?"

"Oh, here's the fun part. You're angry with me, because I've been a very naughty girl, and you want to regain control because you're my boss. You can't stand that I've gotten one over you. You want to take your control back, to punish me. So you've decided to put your hands around my neck."

She could feel the mood shift slightly.

"That's right. This stuff turns you on, doesn't it? Being a slave to my hands, needing me to cum because your vibrators can't cut it anymore."

His words sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. He had remembered what she had confessed to last time. Of course he had.

"Yes. I'm touching myself right now," Ayame continued, her voice shaking now. She put her mobile on speakerphone, and then took off her shirt, feeling overheated already. "I'm so sensitive already down there. I can't stop thinking about your hand around my throat, your fingers cutting off my breath."

"You sound like you've been thinking about it for a long time."

"Oh, yes," she breathed, and now her fingers were slowly sinking into her cunt, teasing the coil of tension lurking within her body. It was a poor substitute for what she was normally used to, but her imagination was doing the heavy lifting for the moment. She thought of him in that black robe of his, and the weight of his body, pressed on top of hers. She remembered the sensation of his stubble against the crook of her neck, and what his mouth would feel like around the fullness of her breast.

"Do you really want that?" he asked, his voice rough now. "Do you - honest to God - want me to take your breath away?"

"Yes," she moaned, and there was no hesitation in her tone. "I want you to make me feel it. Make me feel you."

She could feel her climax rising, just out of reach. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her breath was ragged as she rubbed her clit faster.

Despite his composed words, there was something strained about his voice. "Keep going. Tell me more."

"I want you to choke me," she said, and there was a raw desperation in her tone now. "I want you to take control, to make me feel everything. I want you to watch me struggle for air while you fuck me."

Her words trailed off, as she continued to masturbate furiously, her moans escalating in volume. There was a sick pleasure in all of this, to convey to him how needy she was. To know that he was listening, knowing that he wanted to hear the noises she made. Her lack of self-consciousness knew no boundaries until a minute passed by and a particularly loud gasp had escaped her mouth.

"Don't come yet," he warned. "Wait for me. Wait until I tell you."

She whimpered. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "I need you. I need your hand around my throat. I need to feel you take my breath away."

"Then imagine it," he said, voice dark with desire. "Imagine my hand sliding around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Imagine me kissing you, stealing what little air you have left. Imagine how good it would feel to give yourself over to me completely."

Ayame let out a strangled moan. She was close—so close.

"Not yet," he said again, and now she understood he enjoyed controlling her as much as he was listening to her. "Wait for me."

"I can't," she cried, her voice quivering with need, her fingers slick with her arousal. "Please… I need to come."

"Think about what else I could do to you. Think about my lips on your neck, my teeth grazing your skin. Imagine my hand tightening around your throat, slow and steady, until your vision starts to blur."

Her breathing was ragged now, each inhale sharp and shallow. "Oh god," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's too much. I can't hold back anymore."

"Then do it. Come for me. Let me hear you."

For a second, nothing happened. The edge of her teetering between the brink of pleasure and ecstasy put her in limbo.

Then she tumbled down the cliff.

Her legs shook, her walls clenched around nothing. Her back arched, and her high-pitched moans filled the phone, raw and unfiltered. It was only complimented by Zenzou's own groan of ecstasy as he rode out his own orgasm. And the sound of it made her feel delicious inside.

After all, she'd made him cum.

It took a while for Ayame to come back to normal. He hadn't hung up the phone, and she could still hear both of their breaths, heavy and ragged in the aftermath of their climaxes.

She couldn't help but smile. "Fuck. I can't believe we just did that."

"Your fault, really. If you wanted to stop, you would've done it long ago. I'm just keeping you on the hook for now until next time."

This one made her laugh, even though she was tired and content. A bead of sweat rolled down her chest to her belly. "Get well soon, boss," she said, and then finally clicked off. They were never ones to prolong goodbyes.

She flopped down on her couch, too warm and relaxed to bother going through her regular nighttime routine. She'd have to get him ingredients for rice porridge. Something with lots of leeks so he'd get better soon...

- tbc

Chapter Text

Ayame had only been in his kitchen for twenty minutes before she heard the sounds of his cough. 

Turning around, she spotted her boss looking less than amused. He had the decency to wear a mask, but his body language was hostile. 

She didn't mind, though. There was something hot about knowing you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be.  

"Why are you here?" Zenzou asked. His skin was flushed, and eyes were noticeably darker than normal. She would have felt sorry for him if she knew he wasn't annoyed as fuck with her crashing into his house without any notice. 

"Don't make such a fuss," Ayame said cheerfully. She was wearing a pink apron with her favorite heart-shaped pockets, knife still in hand as a warning for him to back off. "You already have a hard time applying Preparation H. Don't make it even worse." 

"Sarutobi, I can cook for myself." 

"Did you know that most professional escorts offer two kinds of packages?" Ayame asked conversationally, turning around to chop the leeks. "The first one, of course, is the porn star experience."

"I'm pretty sure you're not an escort," he said. "Last time I checked, I didn't pay you to suck my - " 

"The second one is the girlfriend experience," she interrupted, tossing the chopped leeks into the pot. The rice porridge bubbled as it was cooking on the stove. 

"Sarutobi, you're not my - " 

"The sooner you get better, the sooner I can make a dick appointment. So shut the fuck up, or go back to bed. Your choice." 

He did neither, choosing to take a seat at his dining table, already looking exhausted. "Can't believe that cooking for your sick boss has become more interesting than stalking that samurai." He had clearly deduced the faster he got this over with, the faster she would go away. It would've been insulting if this hadn't been how they normally communicated with each other. 

"You're saying that as if I can't do both," Ayame replied, conveniently ignoring the fact that one was becoming far more interesting than the other. She held up two packages. "Natto or umeboshi?" 

He eyed both of them suspiciously. "...Definitely the umeboshi." 

She sliced the pickles and placed them into a side dish, arranging it next to the prepackaged tamagoyaki. She had taken a lesson from Otae and decided not to risk burning any of Zenzou's eggs, especially in this economy. 

"It's nice of you to do this," he said, in what was surely the last remnants of politeness left in him, right before hacking a lung or two. She waited before he stopped coughing before ladling the porridge into a bowl. "But you don't have to. Really." 

She sprinkled dried bonito flakes on top of the dish, and then carried the whole meal to the table. "If I know you - and I think I do - what's going to happen is you're going to starve yourself because you can't be bothered to cook on your own, and then you're going to waste away like a sad lonely bachelor, lying in this big house all by yourself." 

"Delivery exists," he pointed out. "I mean, I would know because it's my job."

Ayame rolled her eyes. "Just eat it, boss. Or I'll make sure you won't be able to apply Preparation H for a week." 

For solidarity's sake, she sat down across from him as well, fixing herself a bowl. Not that she was sick - but she couldn't think of a better way to keep an eye on him without being extra annoying. He was like a cat in that way. You had to force your hospitality upon them, otherwise they wouldn't do anything good for themselves. 

She poured her usual natto into the porridge, and started to eat, ignoring his look of disgust at her choice of condiments. It was a habit she'd picked up from her late grandmother, and so she was used to the strong, fermented taste. 

"Matsudaira's asked us to cover for Soyo-hime's election campaign," Ayame said. "With you being sick, I suppose you'll be off duty for the week." 

He coughed, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "Can't go incognito with this cough," he grumbled. "But he's used to working with you." He'd taken off his mask, getting up to make himself some tea. 

Work, thankfully, was the one subject that they could have a civil conversation about. 

"Nobume's a little prickly these days," Ayame said, stirring her porridge with a flat bottomed spoon. "She thinks the Mimawarigumi are good enough to provide the princess security detail." 

"Mm. Well, I don't see her tasting the princess's food or tea so far." The Oniwabanshu were generally immune to most types of poison.

"New era, I suppose. That poison dart that took out ... well. There's an antidote now." 

Zenzou's hands tightened slightly, but anyone else would have missed it. "Yes. Well, I don't think she'll have too many enemies these days. She's very cozy towards the Amanto." 

"Can never be too careful." 

He nodded, and finished the rest of his meal in silence. She did too, and took it as her cue to leave. That was before she remembered she'd purchased a cooling forehead patch from the convenience store. 

"Hey, boss, I forgot to give you something." 

"Hm? You didn't pick up an extra tube of Preparation H, did you? Because I'm running low, and that'd be pretty convenient." 

Ayame rolled her eyes and tore the wrapping of the cooling pad. She lifted his bangs, and stuck the patch on his forehead. His skin was feverishly hot to the touch, and for a moment she was a bit worried about his temperature. 

Their eyes met, and for a moment her heart stopped. Damn his bangs. They always got in the way of her seeing his eyes. 

"You know, you'd rank a lot higher in the popularity polls if you cut your hair," she said, her fingers pressing the patch firmly to his forehead. She thanked her ninja training that her hands stayed steady, even though her chest was thumping obnoxiously loud. 

"It keeps the golddiggers away," Zenzou said seriously, his eyes a paler shade of blue in light of his illness. "Imagine if I had a fanbase like that Jump samurai. They'd bang down the doors of this estate, and then I'd end up with ten stalkers like you. No, I think it's for the best that I'm in the bottom forty, and that you stay in the twenties." 

She was miffed. "Oi. My personal best was 12th place. It was the February 2019 issue, in fact." 

Her boss grinned. "Right. So you're still the third most popular female character in the series, even at your peak?" 

She was about to slap him, right before he grabbed her wrist. His reflexes were still sharp, even though he was sick. 

"Sorry," he said, clearly not sorry at all. "Listen... you should be glad that you've gotten way more merchandise than me. I don't think I'll ever get a figurine, for one." 

"At least you've got a personal theme song," she pointed out, still irritated. 

"You can blame Sunrise for that. I don't call the shots with post-production." 

His grip on her hand lessened. Ayame watched him as he lowered her hand to his mouth, giving her knuckle a brief kiss before letting go.

It was an innocent gesture, one far tamer than the things he had previously done to her. But somehow, it had the effect of making her blush. For once in her life, she couldn't figure out what to say. Or do. 

"Thanks for the girlfriend experience, Sarutobi," he said, and now his hands were tucked in his robes. "I'd better get back to sleep, before Matsudaira overworks you to death. And I think you should add other things to our contract - it needs a revision by now, don't you agree?" 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Turning away, it was a long time before her hand stopped shaking. 

When faced with looming uncertainty, Ayame did what most people did. She turned to her old habits. In between shifts, she decided to stalk Sakata Gintoki. It had been a while and the recent visit to the hospital reminded her that she missed seeing him. 

As usual, there was a hole in the ceiling that she used to peer through as the Yorozuyas proceeded with their day. It didn't vary much. Going out on errands would take a few hours. If they were out on a job, she would take the opportunity to take a nap before they returned.

But most of the time, she would spend her time simply to... observe. 

One would have wondered if she ever got tired of stalking someone. The truth was, it wasn't that different from her job. The ability to stake out an environment without missing something important had been ingrained in her upbringing, especially in their line of work. The Oniwabanshu were once bodyguards for the Shogun; it was their duty to notice something out of place, or to know who was supposed to go in and out of the palace. 

For all intents and purposes, it was a typical Sunday - Gintoki was lazing on his couch, watching the daily weather forecast. Kagura had taken Sadaharu out for a walk at the park. And Shinpachi was doing his usual cleaning, fussing at the samurai to pay the monthly rent. 

On that note, Gintoki's attic had gotten dusty. A part of Ayame had been irritated that the Shinpachi hadn't bothered to keep up with the state of things, considering he knew it'd been her place to stay for a long time. A part of her also knew it was irrational, as stalkers had no rights to that sort of diligence. 

They hadn't noticed her of course, because she had decided this time to not do anything to alert her presence. Ayame was selective of that sort of thing. The only times where Gintoki caught her lurking was when she made it obvious and wanted his attention. Otherwise, he was mostly oblivious to her presence, or at least did a good job pretending she wasn't there. 

Twenty minutes she spent, sitting in silence. To her shock and dismay, she found the whole process to be incredibly boring.

It was a complete change from before. 

Sighing quietly to herself, Ayame had forgotten that Gintoki usually preferred to be completely alone whenever he was... taking care of himself.

Which at this point, was the only thing she was interested in. 

Now that she was getting laid and channeling her excessive sexual energy outside of his apartment, this all felt downright pathetic. Historically, she used to consider Gintoki pulling a pudding cup out of the fridge the epitome of sexy. Now, the longer she watched him going about his day, the less impressed she became. 

She'd prostrated herself in front of him, had bought so many different sexy outfits to to appeal to his baser instincts, and had pretty much begged him to fuck her at every given opportunity. 

Sure, her approach was abrasive and off putting. That was something she could have improved on. She could admit how ridiculous her mindset had been in retrospect, having found out that it didn't matter if she was sexually attractive or not. It was up to the guy to decide if they wanted her or not. 

But if Gintoki wasn't willing to give her a reason or a different way to approach her, how else could she have toned it down?

Tsukuyo had played it demure and classy - yet Gintoki hadn't bothered looking any further in her direction else since chapter 703. Tae was the classic girl next door, a yamato nadeshiko on the surface if you acted normal and didn't provoke her - but all the samurai did was to point out how painfully flat-chested she was. The weather lady had even offered to go out with him on a date before, and yet he had still turned her down, despite him being besotted with the fantasy of Ketsuno Ana for years on end. 

In those circumstances, she couldn't help but to conclude that Gintoki wasn't interested in women.

Well, he was. But it was similar to how some men only enjoyed women in an abstract way - like on the internet, or going to strip clubs - rather than the messy realities that most women existed in. There wasn't any space in Gintoki's mind for whatever reason for a woman to get closer to him physically or emotionally. It was becoming clearer to Ayame that she wasn't the problem. 

He was. 

It was an epiphany that brought her no joy. It was downright heresy. Heretical to her way of thinking. 

But her anecdotal experience had driven her to a different opinion entirely. 

She knew she didn't have to love someone to fuck them. She didn't even have to respect them.

But Gintoki just wasn't... interested in her, period. 

Ayame rubbed her temples, and wondered if her thoughts had manifested because she worked a long shift. It had been over eighteen hours since she'd gotten any sleep, and she knew her mind wasn't in the best state to come to such a permanent conclusion.   

Tae's voice floated into her mind.

I've been telling you the same thing for years, Sacchan. Why are you asking me now for my opinion?

She took a long breath, but kept it silent so that no one could hear her release it. God. Something must be really wrong with her if she was seriously taking advice from Tae about her love life. That flat-chested bitch had no idea what she was talking about. 

She would come back, after getting some sleep. 

It didn't work. 

Each progressive visit to Gintoki's apartment became worse. It all led Ayame to ruminate on what had gone wrong in her pursuit of the samurai. 

If she had played it cool for a year or so after he offered to marry her, would he have been interested? Maybe she had been too eager. Too easy. She knew that men liked more of a challenge. She wore her heart on her sleeve, which maybe in Gintoki's case was a turn off. 

Or was this actually a case of an inverted madonna-whore complex? The one where he only wanted whores, and secretly understood that she'd been inexperienced in the realm of love and relationships. Maybe it was a case of not wanting to ruin their friendship - or at least a kind of friendship where he barely tolerated her but was willing to save her life when it counted. Did stalkers consider their objects of obsessions to be friends, and vice versa? 

Maybe she needed to lose more weight. Or cut her hair short, like the weather lady. Or get some contact lenses. 

The thoughts ruminated in her head as she absentmindedly watched Gintoki take out the carton of strawberry milk, drink the rest of it, and putting it back into the fridge. 

He was attractive. Part of that was because he was incredibly charismatic, and knew it.

He was also broke, unemployed, and drank more than he should. 

Not everyone was fond of him, she supposed. He inspired irritation in all sorts of people - she knew her boss, the vice-commander of the Shinsengumi, and his landlady would probably have a litany of insults to hurl at the samurai, if pressed. 

But to most of Kabuki-chou, and Edo as a whole - once they'd gotten to understand him, would hold a soft spot for him in their hearts. To know him was to loathe him. But eventually, it didn't matter. Everyone he'd met would come to respect him. 

Zenzou would save Gintoki's life if it was in danger. He had already done so twice - once intentionally in the Red Spider arc, and then again by lucky accident in the Shogun Assassination arc. They'd fight in the convenience store over the last copy of Jump - but the unspoken connection was there. 

Hijikata wouldn't force him to go to prison for ages, even though everyone with half a brain at this point knew Gintoki had been deeply connected to Jouishishi movement. And even if he did land in jail, he knew enough people in high places to bail him out. By accident or good fortune, he'd helped the Shinsengumi out of several complicated situations. He wouldn't ever let them forget it, either. 

And Otose, despite her complaints every week, yelling at the top of her lungs - wouldn't kick her delinquent tenant out. 

In Ayame's case, she had been deeply touched by Gintoki's chivalry from the beginning. He wasn't a man who was corrupted - ever - by his sexual desire. She had no doubt in her mind that if they had really slept together that night, he would have really married her. 

But fast forwarding years later, she found herself wondering if either of them would have been happy. Everybody wanted a piece of him. She wasn't sure if he was capable of reciprocating that energy back. 

She would have been thrilled, of course. The fantasy of having sex with him was still exciting to her. Nothing was more intoxicating than the idea of him fulfilling all her sexual desires. 

But emotionally? 

What did she have to say to him that was all that important to warrant spending hours of her life here, where she was so clearly unwanted? 

It was getting to the point where Ayame was forcing herself to stay in Gintoki's apartment longer than she really wanted. 

And then... each visit became shorter, and shorter. 

Four hours would turn into three, and then three hours would turn into two, and then two eventually became... one. 

She resisted the change, but there was only so much of Ladies 4 she could watch before finding more interesting things to do. 

Work, thankfully was a distraction. She was no stranger to compartmentalizing her emotions. Work was sacrosanct, almost sacred. Everything else that was causing her emotional distress - she'd shoved it into the back of her mind. Not wanting to Go There with her boss, or think about Gintoki from the opposite direction. It was far too confusing and she didn't have the space to untangle the new realizations or insights that she'd gained in the span of a week. 

Zenzou hadn't texted her in a few days - which probably meant he was sicker than she thought, or probably wrapped up in other bureaucratic affairs as the head of his clan. Either way, she wasn't complaining, and she also wasn't keen on showing up on his estate unannounced again. It was just asking for more trouble, and she didn't - ironically - want any more of it at the moment. 

Which was why Ayame had been shocked when she came home from work and saw her boss sitting on her couch, flipping through her old copies of Maso Weekly. She'd forgotten to put them away, thinking she wouldn't have any visitors coming over. 

But there he was. 

"You left your window unlocked," her boss offered as an explanation. "And the security system in this neighborhood sucks." 

"I know," she said, shutting the door behind her. She knew why he was here. "But you're the only person who ever comes here, so it doesn't matter." 

She sank into the couch next to him, somewhat exhausted. The whole week hadn't done her any favors for her beauty - she hadn't even showered today, and her underwear was far more plain than the usual outfits she'd plan for their sessions. Honestly, she'd let herself go which was totally out of character, especially now. She was starting to enjoy the ritual of getting ready for these dick appointments. 

It wasn't enough for her to turn him away, though. 

"Still, it'd be better if you took better precautions. You never know." 

She nodded. "You look better." 

"Yeah, I was surprised how quick it was. Once you left, I was able to tough it out with some antibiotics. And thanks for the copy of Shonen Jump by the way." 

Even though this had taken her essentially no effort to drop it off at his place with an updated contract slipped in between the pages, the fact that he had noticed still made her blush. Marishiten. Maybe it was her who needed to go to the doctor again. 

"Well, I wouldn't want you to fight with Gin-san and infect him with a cold too," she said, trying to hide that she was flustered. 

He snorted. "He'd deserve it." 

"Would not. He's poor. He can't afford to go a week without working." 

Before she knew what happened, Zenzou pushed her down on the couch, pinning her arms above her head. She didn't protest. In fact, it was downright hot, having him pressing down on her like this. There was something thrilling about her being able to push his buttons, and she couldn't figure out why.

"You're trying to piss me off, aren't you?" 

That hadn't been her intention, but if the shoe fit... 

"Why would you think that? Are you jealous?" 

"I might be," he allowed, neither confirming nor denying it. "Regardless, the last thing I want to talk about when I'm in bed with you is that guy. Even I have feelings, you know." 

She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "So what are you going to do? Punish me?" 

"No, I don't think I will," he said. "After all, you've been very good to me this week. But I might have some idea of what you want." 

He let go of her arms, letting them fall to her side and then took off his robes, throwing them on the floor. "Stay still." 

Ayame obeyed, her throat hitching at the sight of him shirtless. Waiting, as he looked at her as if he wanted to consume her entirely. She held her breath as he calmly removed her glasses, folded them and set them on her coffee table. 

In one swift motion, he yanked her shorts down her hips, the fabric sliding over her skin.

He didn't waste a second, burying his face between her legs, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh. He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against her as his tongue flicked over her clit in quick, deliberate strokes.

She gasped, her hands immediately tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as her back arched off the couch. Her body was already on fire, every nerve alight with the sensation of his mouth on her. He wasn't gentle, wasn't teasing—he was relentless, his tongue working her with a purpose that made her toes curl. She could feel herself getting wetter, her thighs shaking as pleasure began to coil tightly in her core.

"Oh god," she moaned, her voice breaking as she pressed herself harder against his mouth.

He growled in response, the sound primal and possessive. His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking hard as his fingers dug into her thighs to keep her open for him. She writhed beneath him, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but he held her still, refusing to let her escape the onslaught of pleasure.

It was nothing like the first time he'd done it to her. He'd been accommodating then. Patient. 

Now, he was claiming her, as if it was as much for his pleasure as it was hers. 

His tongue moved faster now, alternating between broad, firm strokes and quick flicks that sent shivers racing up her spine. Every sensation was amplified, every touch electric, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge in record time. 

She needed him more than she realized. 

And so had he.

The days they'd spent apart were missing something. They were making up for lost time. 

This time, he didn't stop, his relentless rhythm pushing her higher and higher until she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of pure ecstasy. She gasped his name, her thighs clamping around his head as he continued to lick and tease her through it, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until she was limp and trembling beneath him.

He withdrew from her once her moans had subsided, wiping his mouth clean of her slick. 

He quickly undid his pants, freeing his cock, which was already leaking with precum. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, throbbing and hard, and she bit her lip as if she was trying to stifle a moan. His hands reached her shirt, pulling it apart so that her breasts spilled out. 

"Spread your legs wider," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

She obeyed immediately, her knees falling apart as she exposed herself fully to him. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock brushing against her slick folds. The sensation made her gasp, and she reached out to grab onto his arms for support.

He held her gaze as he pushed inside her, inch by torturous inch, until he was fully sheathed within her tight, wet heat. She let out a choked moan, her nails digging into his skin as she adjusted to the stretch.

He didn't let up for a moment. The couch creaked louder, thumping against the wall with every relentless thrust. He had her pinned beneath him, hands locked above her head, as she panted and moaned, hair splayed wild around her face. The sound of skin slapping wetly and his cock gliding in and out of her soaked pussy filled the room. 

He'd never been so rough with her before, fucking her raw. It wasn't punishment so much as a demonstration. 

And she enjoyed every minute of it. She was his for the night, as long as he would have her.

He kissed her like he meant to erase every name that had ever passed her lips but his. With each thrust, she felt her mind dissolving. 

She couldn't help herself her moans grew louder, more desperate, every inch of her body begging for more.

The frame shook with every thrust, the slap of flesh wet and obscene, their bodies tangled, wild, and perfect in the dark. Her will melted, her mind stripped bare by the pleasure and the loss of power, every ounce of resistance dissolving under his unyielding dominance.

It was a perfect storm for her to surrender to. When his hand reached beneath her, between her trembling thighs, finding her clit to slap it - her climax hit her like a hurricane.

Her cry split the air as her orgasm crashed over her, every muscle locking down, her cunt clenching so tight it caused him to curse. This one was more intense than her last one. 

He pulled out, and flipped her over. 

He wasn't finished with her. Not yet. In one fluid motion, he pulled her hips up, and forced her knees apart. She barely had time to gasp before he started thrusting inside one more time. 

He slammed into her again from behind, harder than before, deeper. His cock bottomed out with every thrust, the head slamming into her cervix with rhythmic, ruthless precision.

Her words dissolved into frantic noises half-whimpers, half-screams, her voice cracking every time he fucked her. The wet slap of his hips grew faster, rougher, the sound obscene and relentless. There was nothing gentle in his touch, but it didn't matter. 

His palm landed on her ass, sharp and punishing.

She gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white. The sting lingered, blooming into a simmering heat that radiated across her backside. Her breath hitched, and she could feel her pulse quicken, not just from the pain but from the rush of anticipation that followed.

She knew it'd come to a point where he'd hit her. 

She didn't know it'd feel so good, though. It was everything that she'd ever wanted, and then some. 

"Color?" he muttered in her ear, so soft that she almost missed it. 

"What?" 

For a moment, she blinked as her mind kept fogging over. He kept thrusting into her, and it took her a while to understand what he was asking from her. 

"Give me a color, Sarutobi," he said, one of his wrists twisting her hair around. 

"Green," she choked, feeling so full it was hard for her to breathe. "Green, green, green - " 

He yanked her hair, making her howl. 

"I knew it. Knew you'd love it." 

Though she saw it coming, nothing really prepared her for the next time he spanked her again, sharp and sudden. Pain bloomed under her skin, and yet - it was also incredibly arousing. 

She had never felt so alive and vibrant before.

His hand came down again, harder this time, and she let out a muffled cry, biting her lip to stifle it. The sensation was sharper now, more intense, and she could feel the muscles in her thighs tensing as she braced for the next strike.

Her mind was a swirl of conflicting emotions. Fear. Excitement. Desire.

She wanted more. Needed it as badly as she needed to breathe. 

Above all, she felt the deep, unshakable need to submit.

He was still fucking her from behind. "Don't tell me you want more?" he asked, his voice dark and teasing.

She was far beyond embarrassment to care how desperate she looked. "Yes." 

He obliged her. As his hand came down again, the forcefulness of it made her cry out loud. The impact was brutal, but it was exactly what she craved. Her body arched instinctively, pressing back against his as if begging for more. The pain was overwhelming, but so was the pleasure, the two sensations intertwining until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Her skin was on fire, every inch of it hypersensitive. She could feel the tension coiling inside of her, tighter and tighter with each strike. Her breathing became ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to process the barrage of sensations.

She was fighting something that had awakened in her. She'd always known from a young age that this - this had always excited her. But to experience it in person was on a different level. 

Pain. Pleasure. They coexisted in her body like an explosive, ready to combust. 

Her entire body was trembling, teetering on the edge of release. He seemed to sense it, and with one final, devastating strike, he pushed her over, letting her come for the third and final time. The orgasm crashed over her like a wave, intense and all-consuming. Her vision went white, her body convulsing as pleasure rippled through her. 

For a moment, everything was blissful chaos, her body and mind blending together in perfect harmony. 

When she finally came back to herself, she was panting, body limp and spent. Her eyelashes were wet, almost glossy with her tears and sweat. 

"Look at you," Zenzou said softly, running a hand over the heated skin of her backside, withdrawing from her entirely. "So beautiful when you come undone for me."

She looked at him, only making out a blurry face and figure. It didn't matter. She would have picked him out from a crowd anywhere. She remembered what he looked like years ago and she would have remembered what he looked like now, as a grown adult. 

"You get to choose," he said, lifting her chin. "Where do you want me to come? On your face, or inside you, or... ?" 

The answer came instinctual to her. "My face," she said. 

Ever since he'd mentioned it to her over the phone, she couldn't stop thinking about it. That, among other things. 

"Then you know what to do," he said, and she did. She shifted her body towards him, parting her lips.

Her tongue darted out to taste him; her essence was on every inch. Her lips closed around the head, and she swirled her tongue, savoring the way he twitched in response. His groan was music to her ears, and she felt a thrill of power knowing she could reduce him to that. Though it wasn't the first time - or last - that she'd blown him, the act never ceased to excite her. 

He tightened his grip on her hair, and she knew he wanted more. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing as she pushed past the instinct to gag. His cock slid into her mouth inch by inch, the heat of him filling her, stretching her. She took him as far as she could, her nose brushing against his pelvis, and held it there for a moment, her eyes watering slightly but her resolve unshaken.

He pushed in farther, feeling the resistance at the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering as she struggled to take him, but she didn't try to pull away. He gave her a few seconds to adjust, letting her catch her breath, then tightened his grip in her hair and started to move slow at first, then faster, fucking her mouth with steady, claiming strokes.

He was using her thoroughly, with no qualms about making it easy on her. 

Lucky for him, Ayame liked it rough. 

"This was where you were supposed to be all along," he said, eyes glittering as he continued to hit the back of her throat. "Here with me." 

She moaned around him, her eyes already streaming with tears. One of her hands rested on his hip so she could stabilize herself as she sucked him off. The other one was busy pleasuring herself, even if it was selfish. He'd already given her three orgasms and she wanted one more. 

"So greedy," he observed dispassionately, as he gripped her hair even tighter. "Is this because I haven't seen you for a week? You must have been desperate for it, haven't you?" 

His words only made her want to take him in deeper. Harder. Faster. Each stroke pushed her closer to her own limits. 

Eventually she could feel the tension building in him, the way his hips started to thrust ever so slightly, fucking her mouth with a rhythm that made her pulse race.

With a guttural groan, he pulled out abruptly, leaving her gasping for air. Her lips were slick with spit, her chin wet and glistening as she watched him stroke himself furiously. His hand moved in sharp, desperate jerks, and then he was coming, thick ropes of hot cum painting her face in streaks.

The first splash hit her cheek, warm and sticky. She moaned softly, letting it happen as more followed, coating her skin in a messy layer of his release. Some splattered across her lips, and she licked instinctively, savoring the bitter tang of him. The rest dripped down onto her chin, pooling there before sliding toward her neck. 

It triggered something primal in her, and when her fingers pressed down especially hard, she followed suit, careening into her own climax. 

He had ruined her for so many things. There was a line they had crossed irrevocably; one that they couldn't come back from. 

He didn't stop until he was spent, his breathing heavy and uneven as he looked down at her. Her face was a mess—completely ruined—and the sight seemed to satisfy him deeply. A slow smirk spread across his lips as he released his softening cock, kneeling down to cup her chin in his hand. 

He stared down at her, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, and she knew she'd done exactly what he needed.

"Sarutobi."

Her eyes were glazed, head hazy from exhaustion but she could hear his voice, softer than the wind. "Yes?" 

"Your heart might belong to him, but your body is mine. You know that, don't you?"

Her stomach fluttered at the words, a rush of heat flooding through her core. She nodded slowly, unwilling to question him on anything he said after that.

"Yes." 

- tbc

Chapter Text

"You're fucking kidding me." 

"Nope." 

"This is the Meiji era, for God's sake. This - this shouldn't even be happening!" 

Wakikaoru took off her reading glasses, her hand resting on one of the many legal documents sitting in front of her. "I'm sorry, boss. But legally - she's got every right to confiscate the Hattori property if you don't comply. You don't have any students or an heir to inherit the other estates in Shiranui, and since they were originally built on her land..." 

Zenzou pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, I get it. Part of this is my fault for ditching my clan duties, but - " 

"Momochi-sama also wanted me to tell you that your mother agrees with your late father's last wishes. That is, um. The matchmaking ceremony - " 

"That bastard is still out to get me, even in the afterlife?!" 

"It wasn't that bad five years ago," the kunoichi said, somewhat chagrined. Part of her had understood a long time ago that she did not fit his "type", having participated as a former potential marriage candidate in the ceremony years ago, but stranger things had happened since then. 

"Wrong! Not a single girl in the village bothered to read Shonen Jump," Zenzou said furiously. "It was a complete waste of everyone's time." 

"Is that what you need to be successfully married?!"  

"Of course! What's the point in spending the rest of your life with someone if you can't have a proper conversation with them? If I can't have that, I'd rather be alone!" 

With great wealth and privileges came problems. Though most of his clan had died off during the Jouishishi war, there were still expectations he, the clan leader, had to uphold. 

Like... getting married. And producing an heir. 

Which, to be fair to his logic, the great age of the ninja was dying. Zenzou had held out hope that the higher ups would stop giving a damn about such things and leave him well alone, but it was not to be so. The village still cared about archaic traditions. It was most unlike Edo, where the citizens were more than content to accept new ways of living. 

Never mind that he was spending far more of his spare time with... No, he wasn't going to think of that right now. This was a proper emergency, goddammit! 

"Listen, boss, there's a high probability that they've factored in your preferences," Wakikaoru said reasonably. "I mean, I've told the clan leaders that you'd like a reasonably introverted girl uglier than a gargoyle. Now, even though that's a hard thing to find, they've found a few candidates and isn't that - " 

"I'll settle down when I'm ready! If the gorilla left everyone in this series single, why can't things stay that way for a while? I didn't even get a moment to breathe!" 

"Don't shoot the messenger!" Wakikaoru complained, and sighed deeply, folding her arms together. "Listen, boss. At least try to keep an open mind. Who knows? What if you meet The One? You know, someone who checks off all the boxes?" 

"That's just a fantasy for TV and movies to sell to women. What is this, a fairy tale? I might as well marry Cinderella's ugly stepsisters while we're at it." 

Despite him running his mouth, he was worried about what someone else would think. 

"Boss, if they don't find someone compatible, they'll try again. Unless you already have someone else in mind... ?" 

"Nope," he said, almost too quickly. 

"Well, let's say you do, for the sake of the hypothetical. Let's say you find a girl that suited your needs, and present her to the village elders - if all went well, they'd stop bothering you." 

"You're saying that I need to commit fraud in order for them to stop infringing on my personal rights?" 

"It would be the ninja way of doing things," the kunoichi admitted, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "But what do I know?" 

He knocked on Sarutobi's door an hour later, knowing she'd throw a conniption, and not giving a damn either way. If not - then he'd probably check on the samurai's apartment. That guy probably would thank him for his pest-removing services. 

She opened a second later, frowning. She was wearing one of her sexy silk robes - the kind where he half-expected her to have lingerie underneath. "We didn't schedule anything today, boss." 

"Not here for that," he said curtly, barging in. "Please tell me you have booze." 

"You're breaking the rules of our contract," she reminded him, but retreated to her cupboard anyway. "Unless you want to actually fuck me tonight, then make it short." 

He checked his watch. It was a tempting offer, but he knew he was in no state of mind to set up a proper scene at the moment. "I'll make it quick then. But I'll still want the drink." 

"Okay." 

He considered it a good sign that she wasn't throwing kunai at him yet for interrupting her beauty sleep. She scooped out a handful of ice into a glass cup, and then poured him a fifth of whisky, to which he downed in quick succession. 

She was alarmed when he set it down a little too forcefully. "Hey, what's going on?" 

"The clan leaders want me to get married." He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another drink.

Her eyes widened. "Already?" 

 He nodded. 

"Oh, fuck. Can't you back out of it?" 

"Unfortunately, this is not a situation where I can get out of it. I've been able to skip it for the last few years, but Momochi's been out for blood now that the village repairs are all finalized."

A few years ago, the Kiheitai had bombed the village of Shiranui, which had destroyed most of Momochi Rappa's home. There had been much destruction to go around, but in due course, the ninjas had gotten around to fixing everything. It had been a few years of putting off administrative duties that would have normally proceeded if the attack had not happened, but now that things were back to normal, and that Zenzou had permanently returned to Edo... 

"So, what are you going to do?" 

"Well, I object to being forced into anything," he said, frustrated. "But I was going to ask you for a favor - " 

"Absolutely not!" Sarutobi shouted; her face was bright pink it almost shone, her eyebrows raised so high they were nearly obfuscated by her bangs. "I am definitely not going to m- marry - " 

"No!" He nearly choked on his drink, and it took the two of them a few seconds to calm down. "That's definitely not what I'm asking for!" 

Sarutobi sat down, still agitated. She took a deep breath, and then glared at him. "So why are you here?" 

"Could you pretend to be my girlfriend? As in - someone for them to calm down and to stop asking so many questions." 

Her cheeks were bright pink. "Oh!" 

"It won't make any sense for me to ask Wakikaoru to do this, because she already came to one of those marriage interviews a long time ago, and I said no. But you weren't there, and they'd probably approve of you, so... " 

She was fidgeting with the hem of her robe. "Waki knows about this?" 

"She's the one who suggested that I find someone who could fill that role, yes. Apparently the omiai spree takes place in a few days." 

Basically, it was a free for all. All eligible, age-appropriate candidates were welcome to sign up - it didn't matter if the girls were commoners or nobles. If they were interested in the idea of marrying into a clan, they could line up for it, courtesy of the village. 

"Does she know, about... us?" 

He shook his head. "No, but I can - " 

"No, no, I don't want her to know." Sarutobi was still blushing, for whatever reason. 

"So you'll do it, then?" 

"Let me think about it," she said, smoothing out her robes nervously. "I mean, if Gin-san finds out, you know - he might think I'm not interested in him anymore, and then - " 

It didn't hurt, Zenzou told himself. In fact, he had considered this objection to his plans before coming to her personally. "No, I understand. Seriously. I can find someone else. I just thought you should hear it from me first before it happens. I wouldn't want you to think badly of me, that's all. Sorry to inconvenience you."

He got up from her couch - the one where he had done a lot of horrible things to her a few days ago, and walked to the door.

 "Wait - Zenzou - " 

She followed him to the door, right as he was about to step out. "Listen, I - " 

"Hmm?" 

She seemed to have trouble getting her words out. "If - if - you find someone that you like in the village, will the contract... um... " 

"Don't worry, I'll burn it," he said. "I don't think it would be appropriate to do that kind of thing if I got into a committed relationship, right?" 

"Right, right..." 

Who was the jealous one now? He hadn't considered the flip side of things. Now a part of him was thinking about going into the village with an "open mind", as Wakikaoru had suggested. And come to think of it, Sarutobi could be a little possessive of others, right? She had picked fights with other characters in the show if she had the slightest inkling that they were interested in Sakata Gintoki... 

Marishiten. What the hell was he thinking of now? 

Sarutobi's hand on his shoulder gently shook him out of these thoughts. "Listen, I'll call you tomorrow. I just - it's just very sudden. It sounds like something that needs a lot of preparation, because Momochi isn't a fool. She'll see straight through your lies if you don't have a solid plan." 

Zenzou sighed. "You're right." 

There were moments in his life where he'd forgotten he sometimes was the impulsive one, and with that came a side of Sarutobi who balanced out the other part of him.

It was similar the time where he had walked out of his father's estate, trying to rescue Kagemaru. She had followed him silently then, and remained a thorn in his side ever since. 

"And boss?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I really do appreciate the transparency." 

He smiled at her wryly. "It's the least I could do," he said, and then walked out, wondering what his next best plan was supposed to be. 

"Two gold bars," Sarutobi said over the phone the next morning. No "good morning", or "how are you?" to start off with. Just a standard rate for a mission. 

He sighed. "That's your price?" 

"For the girlfriend experience, yes. And we can't be seen together in Edo. This isn't opening or ending season, where the animators insist on putting us together during the credits."  

He was already tempted to hang up on his subordinate for making that sort of joke, especially now. Unfortunately, last night had brought him no new ideas for his predicament. He had already run through all the other options and had concluded that Sarutobi - despite her flaws - would make up the most compelling and convincing narrative. 

They had known each other for a long time, had both trained under his father, and most importantly, she certainly wouldn't feel uncomfortable with him touching her intimately. He couldn't imagine a better candidate to pretend to be his significant other. 

"Fine. I mean, just for the record - you have a lot of moments with the main cast, too, so I'm not sure you should be complaining - " 

"You should come up with an origin story, too," she said, interrupting his diatribe. "That's something that you'll have to tell people over and over again, so you better make it something that doesn't start with, say, a contract - " 

"Or that you really like being tied up and whipped? Oh wait; I forgot that everyone knows that already." 

It was a beautiful moment, knowing that she could and would have killed him in person, but completely unable to do it because she was far away from him at the moment. 

"I'll see you at the place where you left two years ago. Be there in an hour," Sarutobi said darkly, and then hung up without a goodbye. 

Despite himself, he smiled. 

There was an air of nostalgia here as Zenzou waited for her on the outskirts of Edo. By some miracle, Sarutobi had instinctively stopped at this very tree years ago, knowing he was on his way to leave Edo. They had said goodbye to each other in their own way, but had left a bittersweet feeling once he understood the limits of her affection. 

He was her lover now, without any of the love. But things had stayed the same between them, with no true progress to measure it by. There was no future to speak of, and though this had appealed to him in the beginning of their coupling, he was starting to feel a bit lonelier when the night's session ended between them. It was funny how he had lived most of his adult life without her, and had done just fine on his own until she had disrupted his patterns and routines. Honestly, if she wasn't his childhood friend... 

She turned up not too long after, carrying a heavy duffel bag. 

"What did you bring?" he asked, eyeing it suspiciously. 

"Just a few things," she said evasively, but he knew better than to pry further. 

"Well, as long as you can carry it..." 

Fortunately, it wasn't something to him to worry about, as she was naturally strong. For several minutes, they walked side by side in silence on a path that would eventually lead to a train station in the direction of the Iga province. 

"I suppose you've taken time off work for this, so thanks." 

Sarutobi shrugged. "It's not a big deal. I haven't been back there for ages since Edo is my home now. But after the attack on Shiranui, I couldn't bear to return there. Not even to visit my grandmother's grave." 

He nodded, and a sense of melancholy washed over him. It was the last time they would see the Shogun alive. 

Neither of them had really talked about what had happened that fateful day. It was traumatic - and they had all come through it beaten and battered, far worse for wear. He still had routine nightmares from time to time of a Kagemaru staring at him, haunting him for his worthless sacrifice. 

It was a casualty of war - and he knew he had to accept that things turned out against his favor. As a lifelong assassin, he had no right to feel guilty for the actions he had committed on behalf of the Bakufu, but something had fundamentally changed ever since Shigeshige had died. A boyhood dream of standing next to his friend, serving the country in the ways they best knew how had evaporated into thin air the day Shigeshige died, and with it came a sense of quiet disillusionment that had never gone away. 

They arrived at the train station, and he paid for their tickets. 

"Hey, Zenzou, can you get me a bento box, too?" 

"Hm? Sure. But I don't think they have any that's catered towards your weird tastes - ow!" 

She had shoved him playfully, bumping him into a wall. "That's not a very nice way to treat your girlfriend!" 

He scowled, straightening himself out with as much decorum as he could. "You're the only person I know who adds natto to everything. Just because you're offended, doesn't mean that I'm not right." 

Regardless, he bought two lunchboxes from a nearby kiosk so they could eat on the high-speed train. She repaid him by picking out two cans of cold beer, and the cashier wrapped everything up in a plastic bag, tossing in two pairs of disposable chopsticks and napkins on top.

It was their good fortune the train arrived three minutes later at the platform, which meant the beer wouldn't get cold on the way there. Sarutobi shuffled her bag on the other shoulder, and boarded the carriage before him. 

When they settled into their seats, she had unzipped her bag and had taken out a notebook. From her pocket, she withdrew a pen, and clicked it. 

"Right. I think we should start with the basics, especially as I'm sure they'll interrogate us. What's your favorite color?" 

"Blue. Yours?"

"Purple," she replied, to no one's surprise. 

"When did you fall in love with me?" 

There was a moment of shocked silence before she figured out he was asking for a fake explanation to give to the higher-ups. "Oh. Um. When you said you didn't want to see me cry anymore. What about you?" 

He'd almost forgotten about that, preferring to pretend to himself that he'd never said such a thing. "When you grew out your hair." 

Sarutobi blushed. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind. How did we get together?" 

"We got drunk, had a one-night stand, and in the morning after that, we decided that being together was a good idea." 

"That's not - " Now she was bright red. "What kind of story is that to tell to those people?" 

"Listen. Everyone knows that you've had this obsession with that other guy for a long time; it's the defining part of your character. Even people in the village gossip from time to time. If you can come up with a better explanation that fits your twisted personality type, then be my guest."  He popped open the tab of his beer, taking a sip of it before putting it in the cup holder next to his seat. 

She scowled at him, but scribbled her notes anyway. 

"Favorite foods?" 

"Chikuwa rolls." He didn't need to ask her what hers was. 

"If you could plan your perfect holiday, where would you go?" 

 A hot spring or a sex dungeon where he could tie up Sarutobi with his own hands and have his way with her for hours on end. "Probably a beach." 

"I'd go to the mountains," she said seriously. "I once read a book when I was a little girl, where she fed the deer in Nara. Favorite way to decompress?"

"Going on the Shonen Jump live forums and trolling the power scaling incels. You?" 

She sighed. "None of them are appropriate to say. But I did enjoy that one movie - what was it? My Neighbor Pedoro?" 

"That one wasn't any good. I liked the Aliens vs Yakuza a lot more." 

"Oh you do? I liked those sequels actually. They make pretty good late night entertainment on TV. Favorite animal?" 

"Cats."

"Dogs for me."

She continued interrogating him for the next fifteen minutes, and then made him repeat everything he learned about her for good measure. He hated to admit it, but he was impressed with the amount of due diligence she was demonstrating. 

His beer was starting to turn warm by the time she put away her notebook. "Oh, and you should stop calling me Sarutobi. I'll stop calling you boss. Obviously, those terms are too formal for a romantic relationship." 

He tried it out. "I can do Ayame, but not Ayame-chan. That sounds a bit too Besatsu Margaret for my taste." 

It was astonishing the amount of times Sarutobi had blushed the last couple of days. Her ears were bright red as she opened her own bento box, breaking apart the chopsticks with trembling hands. 

"I'd rather you call me a pig than that," she protested. 

"Unfortunately, we live in a society where people have very structured expectations for what constitutes a romance."

"But have they read the manga we exist in? The requited love stories always end up with one half of the couple dying, and the unrequited ones are left for dust." 

"That's the gorilla's own personal problem. Obviously, there's a huge demographic of the fans who are responsible for his mortgage payments on a mansion in Roppongi, and it doesn't benefit him at all to change the status quo. That said, I still think I shouldn't call you a pig." 

"No," Sarutobi concluded regretfully. "I suppose it wouldn't do him any favors if he'd actually written me with Gin-san in the end, but still..." 

Something in his chest tightened, but instead he just took a sip of his lukewarm beer. 

She had taken a nap shortly after finishing her beer, not bothering to pack up her lunch even when she only ate half of it. It amazed him that she could fall asleep in such a small compartment, but then he remembered that she had been working rather hard the last week or so, picking up the slack from when he was sick. 

She still drooled in her sleep. He sighed to himself and then took a clean napkin, wiping the corner of her mouth. 

"At least take off your glasses," he grumbled, before slipping them off her nose, carefully placing them next to her half eaten bento. "What are you, a kid?" 

Still, there was no denying that he preferred this to dealing with her awake. From his own bag, he took out a volume of Gintaman, and habitually checked on her to make sure she was still breathing from time to time. On occasion, he could make her muttering the words, "Gin-san", but sometimes she would say his name, too, and that would make him wonder exactly what she was dreaming about. 

When he spotted the train arriving to the correct platform five hours later, he had to shake her awake. 

"Ayame, wake up." He almost cringed saying her first name, but knew the only way to get used to it was to keep using it. 

She blinked, opening her eyes. "Huh?" 

"We're here." 

"Oh..." She rubbed her eyes, and reached for her glasses, which she put on. "Thanks, boss - I mean, Zenzou." 

Neatly packing away her bento, she slipped her feet back into her boots, and yawned. "How long was I asleep for?" 

"Four and a half hours." Not that he'd been keeping track. 

"I must have needed it, then," she mused. Her eyes were becoming more alert; he was thankful she wasn't the type to be groggy after a nap. 

They took their bags and stepped off the train, where a car was waiting for them at the station. The driver stepped out of the car, gave the two of them a short bow, and opened the trunk. 

"Good evening. Momochi-sama has instructed me to drive you two to the Hattori estate. Unfortunately, since you came on late notice, she won't be able to see you until tomorrow." The driver gave them another nod, and then slid into the front seat, closing the door shut.  

"Ooh, a personal pickup?" Sarutobi asked, cheerful after her nap. "That's quite nice of them."  Making her way towards the vehicle, she placed her duffel bag inside of the trunk.

"Oi, what's this all about?" grumbled Zenzou. "I didn't even tell her I was coming today." 

"I told her we were coming this morning." 

He dropped his bag. "You what?" 

Sarutobi looked at him balefully. "Do you seriously think she would have believed you if you came unannounced? She knew you were trying to bail out of this." 

"That doesn't mean - Why did you even - " For once, he was speechless. "What did you even say to her?" 

"That I wanted to give us an honest try, even though we had our differences in the past." 

"And she believed you?" 

Now she looked cross. "Well, this is where our part comes into play, right? We're supposed to convince her tomorrow that this is a bonafide relationship. So you'd better bring your A-game then, Zenzou. Or else you might lose one of your houses on a false pretense." 

Nevertheless, he was frustrated. "You should have told me." 

"The last time you planned something on your own, you almost got yourself killed. All of this, Zenzou?" Sarutobi waved her hand, gesturing towards the village. "Not everything's in your control. If I'm involved, I get a say in it too." 

Common sense dictated that she was right. It didn't help him feel any better about it, and he took a seat next to her in the car, feeling oddly disgruntled. 

"I don't even know why she's doing this in the first place," he grumbled, picking up his bag again and dumping it in the back, shutting the trunk closed. 

"I think she's just worried about you," Sarutobi offered. "You were gone for a long time. Maybe she just feels sorry for you." 

"No one, and I mean, no one, needs to be forced into something they don't want to do." 

"You're not an island. You should act like it sometimes. Last time I checked, you were the head of a clan. Not some angst-ridden, solitary anti-hero." 

"Yeah, my ass. As if anyone would see me that way in this show." 

"Your ass is going to bleed all over this car if you don't shut up and stop complaining," Sarutobi threatened, already tired of his bullshit.  

Someone had been in his house and cleaned it in his absence.

At this point Zenzou didn't even question anything anymore. It had been a dusty mess for a while, even though he normally did his yearly visits back in the day to clean it out every spring. A lot of the things inside of it had belonged to his old man, which he didn't hesitate to throw away after the funeral. 

"I call dibs on the biggest room," she announced, dropping her duffel bag at the entrance, and running into the hallways. 

"At least take your shoes off!" he yelled at her, but it was hopeless. Sighing, he placed his keys on the cabinet near the door, and slipped off his own boots. 

Not much had changed since he had left permanently for Edo, and this part of the estate was the only place that had livable conditions. Everything else stayed empty. It was a reminder that they were entering a new age - an era of peace, rather than war. Shinobi tended to be obsolete in times like these. 

It didn't stop him from checking the front entrance for traps or bombs, though. 

Sarutobi came back to him a minute later, her face flushed. "Does no one live here except for you?" she asked, her voice almost panicked. 

"Well, after the old man got divorced, my mother didn't feel like staying here and moved out," he admitted. Not for the first time, he wondered if the cause of their divorce had been his father's porn addiction. "She's probably living in a different estate a few kilometers away." 

"There's only one futon here," she said. 

He blinked. "Oh. Well - wouldn't it be more suspicious if we slept apart?"

She hadn't considered that, apparently. "Well, if you're okay with it..." 

"I mean, if you think of the things we've done so far... " he pointed out, but trailed off into an awkward silence after that. Sarutobi had thankfully dropped the subject by looking away from him, and he was grateful for the break in silence when she finally took off her boots in the foyer. 

They unpacked their things in one of the spare rooms, which admittedly wasn't much. They mostly wore the same clothes, but she had the sensibility to bring over a pink kimono - for dinner with the higher ups, probably - and then... 

"I have gifts for the dead," she said, and something in his stomach dropped.

The graveyard wasn't far away from the mansion. 

"I don't know why I should be here," he said, not for the first time. He didn't want to be here. "I didn't think we were going to visit - " 

"It's okay. I bought a gift for Kagemaru-kun." 

A horrible sensation of guilt pervaded him, but Sarutobi gently tugged at his hand. "C'mon, Zenzou. Let's pay our respects." 

She knelt down by the grave, and placed a cluster of mandarins on the shrine. "How are you doing, my friend?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. "I'm very sorry that I haven't been able to visit until now. You saved our lives long ago, and let Shigeshige stay with us for half a year. I think he was probably the happiest here."

She took out sticks of incense, inserting them into the ceramic pot. With a box of matches, she lit the tip, and the scent of sandalwood filled the air. 

"It was sad when I found out you were suffering from illness. But maybe it was Kami-sama's timing after all. Zenzou was able to put you out of your misery, while buying Shigeshige extra time to live." 

"Sarutobi, stop." 

She ignored him. "You always wanted to serve the nation, and was always prepared to die for the Shogun. Well, his spirit lives on thanks to you, and now it flows through his sister. And for that... we are grateful. I'm glad Maizou was able to give you a proper burial at the end of it all." 

"Ayame." 

She finally looked at him, her eyes clear and untroubled. She was daring him to say something. 

There was only one word he could say to all of this. "Stop."

"No," she said, her tone gentle, but firm. "The world won't know what you or him sacrificed, but I do. I was there, and I knew what happened."

She turned back to the grave. "Rest well, my friend." 

"Here. Dinner."

They had never talked about what had happened that day. It just never seemed relevant ever since Shigeshige died, and any time someone brought the subject of him up, it would only serve to remind Zenzou of his failures, of which there had been many. 

It was also one of the reasons why he had left Edo for two years without bothering to see her. 

He reluctantly accepted the meal, knowing she was trying to be nice about what she'd seen. It was a rare moment of sentimentality from her, an acknowledgement of their history before all of this had happened. She had disappeared for a while, claiming it was "the girlfriend's responsibility" to make dinner, and had left him alone to his own thoughts. The kitchen had already been stocked as he had visited this place a while ago, and was filled to the brim with nonperishable goods. 

She wasn't an exceptional cook by any means. The fried rice had turned out a little lumpy and far too crispy at the bottom, but he was intelligent enough not to critique it. 

"...Thanks." 

"It's not as good as yours, but I'm - " There was a pause. "I'm sorry for telling Momochi about this. I forget how neurotic you are." 

" ... " 

"What? It's true. You are neurotic." 

"And you're too sloppy," he countered. 

That made her smile. "Exactly. Yin and yang. That's why you picked me for this 'mission', right?"

"Debatable whether she'll believe us, but... " He took a bite of her food, and found it really wasn't that bad. "I would rather be doing this than sitting through another round of second-hand picks." 

"What happened last time?" 

"Nothing. It's just that no one bothered to talk about Shonen Jump, even though everyone knows I still read it. The girls were too pretty, and there was nothing really that interesting about them." 

"But I'm pretty, and I don't read Shonen Jump." 

"Yeah, but - hey, aren't you thinking too highly of yourself? You should be more humble. Momochi doesn't like people who brag too much about themselves. Next thing you know, she'll get the idea that you'll take over her land, and then I'll be wrung out to dry." 

The elephant in the room loomed over them, and he refrained from pointing out the obvious. They'd done everything under the sun except to actually put a label on whatever the fuck they were. 

"That's true," Sarutobi said slowly. "But if they ask you in detail why you picked me over say, a very ugly woman who is deeply passionate about the Chimera Ant Arc - " 

"Then I'll say that you were the one who saved my life that day we were attacked," he snapped, with more sharpness than he intended. The whole day, he'd been looking at her - frustrated with her, frustrated with the situation, but above all, he was frustrated that he couldn't just touch her like he normally could at home. There had been a veneer of professionalism between the two of them, and he had found out that he couldn't stand it anymore. 

That made her go quiet. "I see," she said, and then continued to eat her meal without pressing him any further. It was not the first time they had ever spent a dinner in an  uncomfortable silence; they had plenty of those moments when they were younger, over their clashing personalities - but this one felt personal. It was almost like she was looking for an answer that he couldn't give her. 

He rose from his chair, finished with his dinner now. "Thanks for the food," he said, more out of politeness rather than actual gratitude, but before he could escape to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes, Sarutobi grabbed his arm.

"What?" he asked, still irritated by the whole situation. 

"Listen, boss. I know you're stressed, but I didn't mean to push you. I'm not that kind of girl. In fact, I'd rather relieve your stress, if you're up for it."

"Thanks, Sarutobi, but I think we should give it a miss tonight. I don't know if I can be what you need me to be right now." As much as he was tempted to take her on her offer, he was aware that he had been very close to hurting her feelings tonight, and he wasn't sure if he could continue maintaining that specific boundary between their personal and professional relationship at the moment. 

There was another pause, and - disappointment? Her face seemed unchanged after a second, and then she nodded. "Sure. Do you mind if I take my bath first?" 

"Go ahead," he said, still feeling like he had done something wrong. 

She disappeared into the hallway, and he took a deep breath, walking into the room where their belongings were stored. In the bedroom, he laid out the futon - it was a good enough size for two people, enough room that they wouldn't have to touch each other if they didn't want to. Though, if he remembered correctly, Sarutobi liked to sprawl out like a starfish when she slept... 

A sudden weariness crept over him, and though he normally would have been up at this hour, the whole day had been more stressful than his usual routine. 

Fuck it. He'd have to deal with her later. He turned off the lights, and crawled into bed - he'd deal with the consequences later. 

The low, muffled sound of sheets shifting pulled Zenzou from his sleep. At first disoriented, he blinked into the darkness, his mind slow to process what was happening. But then he heard it again—a soft, rhythmic rustle, followed by a faint, breathy gasp. His body stiffened, fully awake now. He turned his head slightly, his heart already beginning to thud in his chest.

She was lying beside him, her back turned, shoulders moving subtly under the covers. The sound wasn't just the sheets moving against her body. It was her. Her hand was moving between her legs, breaths shallow and quick. He could see the subtle rise and fall of her body, the way her hips shifted ever so slightly against the mattress. The room was warm, but the heat that spread through him had nothing to do with the temperature.

He didn't move at first, unsure if he should interrupt. But the sight of her, so lost in her own pleasure, sent a jolt of arousal straight to his groin. His cock hardened almost instantly, pressing against the fabric of his boxers. All day he had - despite his irritation with her - wanted to touch her, to feel her, to take her. The idea of her being this turned on now, made his blood burn.

"Couldn't wait for me, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep—and something else.

She froze for a moment, her body tensing as she realized he was awake. Then, slowly, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark, heavy with need, and her lips parted as she exhaled shakily. "I didn't think you'd wake up," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You went to sleep as soon as I came back."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her hip. He shouldn't have been surprised that she was wearing a thong to bed. "Sorry. I got tired." 

A part of him whispered in his ear, unbidden and unwanted. She could be yours. All you have to do is to say it. 

He ignored the notion, preferring to focus on her body. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she was teetering on the edge. Without another word, he slid closer to her, his chest pressing against her back. His hand moved from her hip to her wrist, gently pulling her hand away from where it was working between her legs.

"Let me," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

She let out a soft whimper, her body arching slightly as he replaced her hand with his own. His fingers slid effortlessly through her wetness, moving the fabric of her thong aside, and he groaned at the feel of her. She was soaked, her body throbbing with need. He circled her clit slowly, teasingly, savoring the way she gasped and squirmed against him.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his cock aching with how badly he wanted to be inside her. "Is this something you do every night?"

"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "I forgot to do it this morning in my room, and I missed my chance in the bath, so... " She couldn't finish the sentence, and he had the impression that she was embarrassed. It was endearing that she could still be like this, even though he'd seen her touch herself before and then some.

"So now you're all pent up."

She nodded, her head turned away from him.

He slipped a finger inside her, curling it just enough to make her moan. Her hips rocked against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. He added a second finger, fucking her slowly at first, then faster as her breathing grew more erratic.

"Tell me what you need," he said softly. He wasn't sure he had the right equipment to participate in her more involved kinks, but...

She turned her head further, her lips grazing his cheek. "I want you to fuck me, like this. From the side."

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled his fingers out of her, eliciting a soft whine from her lips, and quickly shifted behind her. He pushed the covers down, exposing her bare back and the curve of her ass.

He wasted no time. Shoving his boxers down just enough to free his cock, he positioned himself at her entrance. His hands gripped her hips, lifting one of her legs so that he could access her more readily. She arched her back, presenting herself to him perfectly.

The tip pressed against her slick folds, and he groaned at the sensation. She was incredibly tight in this position.

"Fuck," he muttered as he pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch. Her walls clenched around him, hot and wet and perfect. He grabbed her hips harder, holding her steady as he bottomed out inside her.

This meant nothing, he told himself hollowly. He was only taking what he wanted, and she was reciprocating it in full measure. 

She let out a moan that was almost a sob, her hands clutching at the sheets. "Yes," she breathed, rocking back against him. "Don't stop."

Pulling back slightly, he thrust into her again, harder this time. Her ass slapped against his hips, the sound loud in the quiet room. He set a brutal pace, each thrust driving him deeper into her. The wooden floor creaked beneath them, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the way she felt around him, the way she moaned his name with every stroke.

Her body began to tremble, and he knew she was close. He reached around her front, his fingers finding her clit once more. The second he touched it, she cried out, her entire body shaking as she came undone around him.

Her climax seemed to last forever, and when it finally subsided, he wasn't far behind. With a few more relentless thrusts, he buried himself deep inside her as his own release tore through him. He groaned loudly as he came, his grip on her hips bruising.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them panting and trembling. Finally, he pulled out of her slowly.

It was over. He'd given her what she needed. 

"I should probably go to the couch," he said softly. "You're the kind of person who needs a lot of room to sleep." 

There was a moment of silence, and for a split second he wondered if she had already fallen asleep. But then he felt her chest rising. 

"You know — " Her voice was shaky. "Y-you don't have to leave. If you want, you can... you can stay here tonight, with me. But only — only if you want to. I don't — "

She trailed off, and though he couldn't see her face, he could hear her swallow nervously. He couldn't figure out why. 

"...Is that all right?" he asked with some degree of caution.  

Her head nodded. Though he knew it wasn't right for him to feel that way, relief coursed through him. 

Against his better judgment, he buried his face against her neck and shoulder, pulling her even closer towards his body. After all, it was his one allowance, to be horribly selfish for a few hours tonight, right before the other part of his mask would take over for tomorrow's event. 

- tbc

Chapter Text

Zenzou woke up that morning, feeling shittier than usual. His nightmares had come back, probably triggered by the scent of the countryside. To him now, this was a place where he had nearly died, and so had Sarutobi. In their times of weakness, they had desperately clung onto the body of Shigeshige; neither of them had a way of knowing he was to die weeks later at the hands of his allies.

Sarutobi's face, when she was sleeping, had the impression that she had never killed anyone in cold blood. There was a childish innocence to it, a sincerity to it that belied her truer nature.

In another world, she could have been anything she put her mind to. In this one, she was a shinobi, a disposable tool for the government to carry out their evil acts. He had never mentioned it to her out loud, nor did his fingers ever linger on it, but there was a light scar on her stomach that he carried guilt for. It was his punishment for not being able to protect her in time from Takasugi's machinations when the sword had slid through her stomach.

He quietly stared at her for a minute before pushing her limbs away. Like before, when she had slept on the train, her mouth was wide open.

"Gin-san," she muttered, clutching her pillow even tighter.

Zenzou sighed. This was a dangerous game he was playing, and the longer he stayed here, the worse it would get. It would muddy his thoughts, shaking his resolve.

He knew exactly what he had to do at the end of all of this, and he was just delaying the inevitable at this point.

Slipping out of bed in utter silence, he slipped into his robes as quietly as possible. He needed to make preparations for the upcoming day ahead. It wouldn't benefit anyone if he was to stay here any longer, least of all for her.

The look on Wakikaoru's face had been absolutely worth it as she saw them descend onto Momochi's estate.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," was what he could hear from a far distance. Sarutobi was far too distracted by the novelty of visiting a clan leader's home that she hadn't noticed.

The redhead had mouthed 'What the fuck?' as soon she opened the gates. Zenzou pretended not to notice, and simply nodded, as if they hadn't had a conversation two days ago about bypassing the inevitable marriage interview ceremony.

"The girlfriend," he said, pointing a thumb at Sarutobi. She was already glaring at the other kunoichi.

"I knew you liked ugly women, but this one takes the cake," Wakikaoru said sourly, and instantly Zenzou grabbed Sarutobi's shoulder, preventing a catfight taking place on the premises.

"Momochi shouldn't have any problem with her, since my father spoke highly of her in the past," he said, ignoring Sarutobi trying to claw his hand from her shoulder. Being the strongest in the Oniwabanshu had its benefits. "I mean, personally, I would have preferred someone a bit uglier myself, but love is love. Anyways, why are you here?"

The kunoichi pursed her mouth, looking as if she had freshly applied her lipstick minutes ago. "I was hired, of course. Momochi wanted me to thoroughly assess who your partner would be, as I know you two better than she does. Imagine my surprise when you picked this dirty pig, of all people. No wonder you lied about seeing her to my face; I figured it would have been horribly embarrassing to tell me at the time. How did you manage to convince her to move on from that dirty samurai?"

"Being great in bed," he said, which caused Sarutobi to knee him in the stomach. He keeled over, but this wasn't anything new to him or Wakikaoru. They had all attended the ninja academy in the same year and she was more than used to Sarutobi's violent antics.

"Hey, you arrogant bastard. Do you want to die?" Sarutobi threatened, putting a knee on his chest and holding a kunai to his throat. Something in him was unfortunately aroused by it. "Keep this up and I will leave you here to bleed and die, right after claiming your inheritance to your goddamn estate. And, if Momochi likes me enough, maybe I can convince her to give me a couple extra houses on top of it."

"You should save some for the rest of us," Wakikaoru said, in a dark tone. "Our boss has given me enough trouble as it is. Master had a very detailed plan on marrying his only son off, so here I was, organizing all the most prominent ninja families in the village and lining their daughters up for interviewing him for the omiai ceremony. Then, what happened? Oh, Momochi-sama told me that you two were together on the sly! Which means, all my hard work went to waste in the end."

Sarutobi stepped off Zenzou and pointed her kunai at the other kunoichi. "My condolences, you bitch, but call me ugly one more time - "

"Oh? So we shouldn't call a spade a spade?"

"Enough already," Zenzou said, still lying on the grass of Momochi's estate. The formal grey haori he'd put on this morning was surely ruined by now. "It's only nine o'clock, and if we don't get this wrapped up soon, I'll miss the deluxe edition of Shonen Jump that's coming out today." He finally got up, but already he could feel the glares of the two women on him and a knot forming at the back of his neck.

Wakikaoru sniffed. "Unfortunately for you, boss, I'm here to ascertain whether your relationship is legitimate. I hope for your sake and my sanity that it's actually real, because if it's not, I'll sue your ass for wasting my time."

They walked to the entrance of the property and the kunoichi opened one of the sliding doors to Momochi's estate. "Come in, and take a seat."

The room was decorated with fresh flowers - some procured from Wakikaoru's local shop, no doubt - and a beautiful tea set was placed in the middle of the table. It perfumed the room with a scent that seemed almost cloying to their noses.

All too late, Zenzou realized they had walked into a trap. But it would be a dead giveaway if he ran away from the room now. He glanced at Sarutobi, who seemed nonplussed at the decorations.

"Tea?" Wakikaoru asked cheerfully.

"No thanks," Zenzou said, but Sarutobi nodded. The redhead poured the hot beverage gracefully, and lifted the pot away once the cup was filled to the brim.

"Mm. Hibiscus with a drop of hemlock," Sarutobi noted, taking a sip of it and then placing the cup down on the table. "It's your favorite for interrogating suspects, isn't it Waki-chan? Not enough to kill them, but enough for them to notice something's wrong."

"Why, yes," Wakikaoru agreed. "I find the discomfort to be a bit of a distraction, letting the suspect slip away some information they might not have let out otherwise. However, to the rest of us Oniwaban, it's just a delicious tea - perfectly harmless."

"Too bad handling such poisons is making you age prematurely," Sarutobi said blithely. Zenzou glared at her, but she seemed not to notice - probably because of his bangs. Hm. Maybe he'd take her advice and get them trimmed.

Wakikaoru rolled her eyes, and then looked at the two of them. "So, having known you two for far too long, why now?"

"Does love need an explanation?" Zenzou asked. "She took care of the Oniwabanshu when I was away for those two years. That's a good enough reason to be attracted to someone, I'd say."

"Yes, but why her specifically? Aside from her terrible personality - "

"I mean, you seem a bit biased, Wakikaoru," he said, starting to get a little annoyed. "She's strange, sure. But so am I, and if that's something she can accept about me, then that's fine. That's all I can really ask for, especially when you start getting a bit older. I don't think I'd be well-suited for a normal person, especially after spending most of my time living by myself."

For some strange reason, that made Wakikaoru smile. "Of course. That's a fair enough reason, Boss." She turned to Sarutobi, her mouth now slanted into a frown. "And what about you, Sacchan? You couldn't stand him when we were in school. What changed?"

Please say something normal, Zenzou begged internally.

"Love is blind," Sarutobi said seriously, and cupped her hands around the teacup as if she was deep in contemplation. "In fact, you'd have to be nose-blind to deal with Zenzou's hemorrhoids and his never ending supply of Preparation H. But over time, I realized that he let me store all my natto in his fridge. In a way, that's true love, isn't it?"

"Oi, you need to stop buying the discount type at the supermarket, too. Don't you make enough money that you don't have to stockpile it all at once?"

Sarutobi ignored him, and then took another sip of her poisoned tea. "Technically speaking, we don't look like a good pair on paper. I first thought that he was no good, and that he was cold and distant. But that's not really true. He just needs a lot of trust before he opens up."

Wakikaoru hummed, processing the information for a moment before clasping her fingers together, her chin resting on her knuckles. As befitting of her diva personality, her nail polish matched the exact color of her lipstick. "But is that something that you can live with the rest of your life? Marriage is a lifelong contract, after all."

"We've already known each other since we were young. What does it matter if it's a few more decades?" Sarutobi asked sensibly. "It was only a matter of time before I came to my senses, after all."

It was not the truth in any shape, form, or function. Something in Zenzou itched to tell her to stop talking, but he refrained from saying anything, and held his tongue.

Surprisingly, Wakikaoru wasn't convinced. "Hmmm, well I'd believe you if your type didn't happen to be a samurai steeped in poverty. How did you make the leap from an obsessed stalker to, say, a hypothetically devoted and loving girlfriend of our boss?"

The two of them stared at her, and then she said defensively, "Hey! I watch the show like everyone else. Just because I'm even more of a minor character than the two of you doesn't mean I don't know what's going on!"

"They both read Jump, stuck in their ways, and they're both mentally twelve," Sarutobi pointed out. "Is it really that surprising that I have a type?"

"I am not mentally twelve," Zenzou argued, but Sarutobi put her hand up to him.

"So you're saying you're the type to be attracted to childish men?"

"Maybe," Sarutobi said. "But one of them has the financial capability to build a BDSM sex dungeon in their house, and one doesn't. The choice was obvious in the end."

Wakikaoru's lip curled. "What do you mean? So you think he's your Christian Grey to your Anastasia Steele? I watched those movies too, you know, including the sequels. Are you saying our boss is a coercive, manipulative billionaire, who's intent on harassing a naive college student into fulfilling his kinky wishlist?"

What kind of conversation was this in a marriage interview?!

"No, I'm just saying that he's willing to do those things for someone like me," Sarutobi said, which actually was the truth. For once. "And anyways, Fifty Shades of Grey was a terrible depiction of the BDSM scene in the first place. The soundtracks were great, but it doesn't really dive into things like mutual consent and successful pre-negotiation before starting a scene."

Wakikaoru's eyebrows were raised so high they almost disappeared into her bangs. "Well, I suppose it wasn't realistic, but are you sure that Zenzou can actually give you what you need? I remember you dragging him by rope when we were younger and he was almost crying by the end of it..."

"I mean, I'm not sure I have permission to talk about our sex life, but let's just say it works," Sarutobi said slyly. At this point Zenzou was hoping a hole would swallow up the three of them and kill everyone.

The redhead now was putting a hand up in disgust. "Well, if you say so. Anyways, moving on. So, Sacchan. Your family history is essentially nonexistent, which means you don't have a lineage to speak of. The point of having marriage interviews is, bluntly, to produce an heir for his clan. Is that something you're willing to do in the future?"

"Well, I suppose I'll have to eventually retire from the assassination business," Sarutobi said thoughtfully. "If a family is what he wants, then I'll agree with it. But now, I'm pretty happy to keep working for the Bakufu at the moment."

Now Wakikaoru turned to Zenzou. "And you, Boss? Would you trust this woman to bear your children?"

Now that was a loaded statement. The truthful answer was a resounding "No," but he had to make it sound better than that. "It's not a matter of trust, but if she's ready for it or not. Right now, we're enjoying each other's company and I'm not interested in pressuring her into doing something too serious so soon, especially when we haven't tied the knot."

Thankfully, Wakikaoru seemed to accept his answer. "Of course. After all, we don't want a repeat of that divorce between your parents. I remember that being a bit of a messy affair."

That was an understatement. He remembered being shuffled across countless estates, before finally deciding to live in a shack next to his father's academy.

"And the next thing to talk about is the legality of it. Obviously, you've taken into account that Sacchan is an independent kunoichi, and has lived her life on her own terms. When she moves into your house, do you expect her to take charge of household affairs?"

"I wouldn't let someone as sloppy as her take over the financial or the practical side of things," Zenzou said, irritated. "And either way, she's free to come and go as she pleases. She practically lives at my place anyway."

"It's graced by my appearance," Sarutobi objected. "Listen, before I came over, this guy didn't even have a high definition TV at his place. Can you believe it? This guy is the head of a clan, and oversees the most powerful organization that specializes in doing the government's dirty work, and he's practically living like a pauper. He should be thanking me for my service."

Something strange flitted into Wakikaoru's eyes, and she was starting to smile at them as if they were actually a happy couple, and not just a fake one for deceitful legal reasons. He wondered if the sickly scent that was lingering in the room was causing the kunoichi to hallucinate. "Well, I suppose that takes care of that. Zenzou, I suppose you couldn't do me a favor and take a walk around the estate grounds? I have to talk to Sarutobi separately - a girl's chat, if you will. Momochi's orders."

That certainly felt like another trap to him, but he was in no position to refuse. If Wakikaoru couldn't plausibly believe the two of them, he'd be kissing one of his houses goodbye.

"Sure," he said, standing up from the table, and then warned Sarutobi, "If you attack her, I'll take over your job protecting Soyo-hime for a good month. Behave yourself."

She sulked. "Fine, boss."

He sighed, and then slid the door open, breathing in the fresh air again. At least here he wouldn't be interrogated by scary kunoichis or forced to talk about his duplicitous sex life.

The countryside had always been a beautiful prison for Zenzou. He was never anonymous here, where the lineage of his family's history would always follow him like a shadow. His father had been famous, and then well... having been the descendant of an important lineage...

He flicked open his walkie talkie once he was a good distance away from the estate, having surreptitiously placed the other one near the sliding door. It was a dishonest thing to do, but well, he was a ninja at the end of the day.

Wakikaoru's voice crackled over the static. "I still don't really get it. You were already prepared to throw your life away for that samurai. Are you just settling for our boss?"

"Settling is a derogatory term," Sarutobi said. He could tell her voice was on edge. "And anyways, I'm not his dream girl anyway, by a long shot. If I'm settling, then we're mutually settling for each other."

There was a pause, before Wakikaoru resumed talking again. "You say that, but - " There was a sigh. "He loves you. Surely you knew that from the start of all this, right? He wouldn't pick just anybody to do this. His natural state of being is to be alone..."

At that point Zenzou broke the walkie talkie into two pieces and threw it in the nearest pond, wondering why he had bothered to eavesdrop on the conversation in the first place.

He came back in ten minutes, very deliberately making as much noise as he could, so that the two women inside would know exactly when to close the conversation. As he slid the door open, he was surprised to see Wakikaoru slicing a castella cake in the middle of the table. It was almost as if a funeral had taken place, with Sarutobi stabbing her own slice with a fork as if it had personally offended her.

"What did I miss?" he asked, not actually wanting to know the answer.

"Oh, nothing," Wakikaoru said, but it was clear that something had most definitely happened. "It's your turn to take a walk, Sacchan. Did you get your edition of Jump, boss?"

"You know damn well there aren't any convenience stores around this hillbilly town," Zenzou said, taking a seat. "Thankfully, I had a copy mailed to my address before coming here."

"As expected of our leader; you're always one step ahead of everybody," Wakikaoru commented, and smiled at him. He didn't return it.

Sarutobi stood up, leaving behind her half-finished cake, and left the room without another word.

Zenzou didn't even bother to look behind him, ignoring the slam of the sliding door. "What did you say to piss her off? Not that I'm automatically on her side, by the way. She's full of delusions, after all."

"I told her that she's with someone above her league, and that she ought to be grateful."

He snorted. "No wonder she looks like she wants to kill you all the time. Thank Marishiten shinobi don't have to work together. Otherwise, the organization would have crumbled to dust a long time ago."

Wakikaoru frowned now. "Listen, boss. I'm happy to report to Momochi-sama that the relationship between you and her is real. But, you ought to tell her that you like Sacchan sometime. I think she missed the message."

"She hates me? Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one before," Zenzou said lightly. "You should see how it feels when she stabs me in the ass, especially when I'm cursed with a lifetime membership to the hemorrhoids club."

The redhead sighed.

"I know you guys have this weird kink of hurting each other, or saying really nasty things to each other. But sometimes, a woman needs to hear things in a straightforward way. You know, like 'I love you', or 'I think you're really cute'? Life can't be all about sadism and masochism, after all."

As if Sarutobi ever wanted to hear that cookie-cutter bullshit from him, anyway. All she ever wanted was that guy's attention, even in her dreams. The only place Zenzou had in her life now was when she was somewhat horny and then, he was just a way to get her off. That was the only time from his present memory that ever she bothered praising him in the first place.

Ah, shit. There it was - that old familiar bitterness rising up again. It was getting to be a real pain in the ass, seriously. Especially when he'd written a damn contract trying to mitigate it completely, yet failing spectacularly the more time he spent with his subordinate.

"I'll give it a try, but I won't be surprised if she tries killing me for my supposed sincerity."

Wakikaoru frowned, shaking her head. She wasn't getting it. "The thing about Sacchan is that she responds to honesty from the heart. She doesn't do that well with sarcasm, because she's got the sort of brain that hears what she wants to hear, and ignores the rest. But if, say, you said something nice about her and really meant every word - in a good way - she'd understand the message clearly."

"What even is this, couples counseling?" Zenzou asked, disgusted. "You sound like you're charging me by the hour, trying to save a dying marriage on its last legs from its inevitable divorce."

The redhead was frustrated at this point. "You know I run a flower shop, right? I've seen so many idiots come in last minute on Valentines Day, or the morning of their girlfriend's birthday in a panic because they've got nothing to give to her. I'm telling you right now, it's your job to get flowers before you lose the love of your life. Maybe for a freak show like her, it could be a whip, or chains - "

"You really think that I haven't tried all that before? I'll tell you that it doesn't make her any nicer once it's all over," he retorted.

"TMI!"

"It's the truth!"

"Fine! Then try using honesty, for once." Wakikaoru actually seemed like she felt sorry for him, and sighed. "I don't even know why I'm giving you advice. I'm certainly not getting paid enough for this. Go ahead, join Sacchan at the waterfalls. You'll see Momochi there."

The next test would take place in Momochi's sanctuary, the most secretive of the hidden places strewn in the village. Zenzou, one not to be out of the loop, had caught up with his 'girlfriend' on the way there, and spent most of it listening to Sarutobi complaining about what a bitch Wakikaoru had been, even though the woman had just been doing her job.

But there was something off about her. He couldn't figure it out. She moved slower than usual, and she was yawning more often, even though it was only morning.

"Did you sleep enough last night?" he asked, cutting through one of her monologues.

Sarutobi looked annoyed at the interruption. "Of course I did," she said, but already her hand reached to cover her mouth, stifling another yawn. "I just forgot my morning coffee, that's all."

Which was strange, because as far as he was concerned, he didn't feel sleepy at all. He felt... on edge.

The waterfalls in Iga were notorious for being dangerous. Every shinobi who had made their name had cut their teeth here, provided they proved that they could be trusted they weren't going to kill themselves by mistake.

The rocks were slippery, and in order to make their way to the top of the waterfall, it was crucial to keep their balance at all times. The tabi that they'd both chosen to wear this morning was proving to be a poor choice of footwear.

"I would've worn my regular clothes if I knew she wanted to meet us here," Sarutobi grumbled, picking up the hem of her pink kimono, which was getting smudged with mud. "Is this something typical, that eccentric clan leaders do all the time? Meeting in strange places?"

"Not me," Zenzou replied, his voice curt. "I'd personally like to think we'd just meet in an underground tunnel in the dark, surrounded by skulls and dungeons. It keeps things really simple." He was still worried when Sarutobi kept rubbing her eyes, a clear sign that she was about to fall asleep.

Still, it only took them ten minutes to reach the top of the mountain, where the base of the waterfall stopped, and he was somewhat relieved when he saw the other kunoichi standing there, resting her arms lightly against her other puppet.

By the time he'd gotten closer, the sound of the water pounding the rocks beneath them were roaring in their ears.

"Any reason why we couldn't have met somewhere else?" Zenzou asked rudely.

"You're a hundred years too early to address me that way, brat," Momochi said, her ageless eyes greeting him with amusement. "Although, it is good to see you again. You look better than the last time I've seen you."

"Love will do that, I suppose," he said. His hand was holding Sarutobi's, who was looking as if she would pass out at any given minute. It wasn't a great first impression to make in front of one of the three great leaders of Iga, but he supposed that was never in the cards for her anyway. He'd have to carry her down the mountain in his arms at this point.

Momochi's eyes flickered between the two of them.

"You know, your father knew this would happen someday."

"He's been a pain in my ass ever since the day I was born. Forget hemorrhoids. He's the real devil of this whole operation."

"No man is an island," she said, her lips curled into a smile. "I'm glad you found someone who you can let your guard down with."

Who the hell was she kidding? There was absolutely no one else he had to keep his guard up with more than Sarutobi, who seemed intent on annoying or fucking him to death. Never mind that this farcical relationship had gotten to this point where other people were beginning to plan their wedding for absolutely no good reason.

He changed the subject. "What did you put into Sarutobi's tea?" His grip on her was tighter on her than ever, even though her wrist was growing limp by the second.

"Nothing horrible. Just a simple Iga made concoction. Odorless, tasteless, and designed to put anyone in a coma for a week without an antidote."

"Is the property really that important to you?" Zenzou asked, contemplating whether it was worth starting an all-out shinobi war between the clans if he made Momochi's puppet explode. "I know the taxes have been increasing each year, but I could ask the prime minister to lower them on your behalf in this prefecture. It'll be my penance for my ancestors building the estate on your land. I knew her brother, after all."

"No need," Momochi said, right before Sarutobi collapsed at his feet, causing his arm to stretch even more than before. "She's not in danger. Courtesy of your father, of course. He had a very specific plan to continue his clan, and asked me to make sure you weren't alone at the ripe age of twenty nine. After all, it's almost your birthday, isn't it?"

So everything in the end circled back to that son of a bitch. If reincarnation existed, Zenzou would make sure to ask the gods to use his next life to become a well pampered cat of some rich household, rather than the prodigal son of the world's most irritating ninja.

"What does that matter?"

Momochi smiled.

"It matters, because despite your lifelong resistance to admitting it, you're still a human at the end of the day."

Never mind that it was all a whole exercise in futility. He'd taken enough Ls for one lifetime, including the woman lying in front of him.

"I used to train you here," Momochi said fondly. "Puppetry wasn't your father's specialty, but it was mine. Do you remember?"

He nodded.

"Of course, it took much longer for Ayame to master it, but once she did, I knew she'd succeed too."

The number one assassin in Edo. Her name had been feared, once.

"So that's why we're here? A trip down to the memory lane?"

Now the clan leader gave him a baleful look. "That was always your blind spot, your lack of sentimentality. At least your father was whimsical."

"Being soft doesn't get the bills paid, or the job done." In fact, the one time he'd let his sentimentality get in the way of his duty, the person he most wanted to protect had died.

"But you're here with her now, aren't you?"

"I'm here because you asked me to be here."

"The last time the interviews took place five years ago, she wasn't there."

He was quiet at that.

Momochi took his silence with an amused look. "I consider you two strong-willed children. If she didn't want to be here with you, she wouldn't have agreed. That's how I know it's legitimate."

If one of his houses wasn't on the line, this was where he would have accused of her being senile.

"Why drug her, then?"

"I just wanted to see how you'd react," Momochi said cheerfully. "I'm pleased to report that you were a perfect shinobi through and through. You calmly assessed the situation, didn't overreact, accurately pinpointed the origin of the poison, and turned off your killing intent once you realized what was going on. I see that Ayame still needs some work on her poison detection skills, though. She trusts her friends too blindly."

That was probably the difference between him and Gintoki, too. He worked alone. Conversely, the samurai was always surrounded by people, trusting that they'd protect him in times of need. Maybe that was the fundamental point of contention here.

Now she turned away from the waterfall, facing him directly. "Do you love her?"

That was a complicated question with a very simple answer.

Never mind that he had spent the last month and a half in denial. Hell, at this point he avoided taking any routes near Yorozuya's house, knowing that he'd see Sarutobi jumping into the window, and understanding that he never stood a chance in the first place. It didn't matter if he had known her from childhood, or entirely capable of fulfilling all of her deepest sexual fantasies. At the end of the day, he wasn't Sakata Gintoki.

"Do I have to say it?" Zenzou said. He let go of her hand, letting it flop uselessly on the ground. His subordinate looked almost serene, sleeping on the earth.

Momochi smiled. She took out a clear bottle of liquid from her pocket, and pressed it into his palm. "The antidote," she said, and then added. "This would be a pretty good place to propose once she wakes up, wouldn't it?"

"Are you kidding? She's far too vain for that. No, I'd have to plan a few photoshoots in advance, and make sure her little gang of girlfriends were all there to document the engagement process so that she could post it all on social media. It's the one part of her that isn't a ninja at all."

"That's a shame, then," Momochi commented, and then vanished from the scenery, giving the two of them privacy.

It took a few minutes for Sarutobi to wake up once he administered the antidote, and when she saw his face, her mouth turned into a frown. Everything was back to normal.

"What happened?" she asked. "Why is my kimono and hair wet?"

"Momochi wanted to know if I was capable of carrying you all the way up to the Iga waterfalls," he lied without much effort. "I tripped and fell. It knocked you out, so sorry about that."

"Oh. That's a really weird way to prove your devotion, isn't it? Although I suppose Momochi has her ways. I wouldn't pretend to understand any of it."

"It's over now, so does it matter?"

His subordinate tilted her head and smiled. It was one of the rare ones, where she wasn't arguing with him and he wasn't sabotaging anything on purpose. "No boss, I guess it doesn't. Did she believe us?"

He turned away from her, choosing instead to look at the beautiful scenery in front of him. He knew what he was supposed to do, and the sight of her face - beautiful, hopeful, and a lost cause entirely - was making it harder to confront the truth head on.

"... Yeah," he said.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. As soon as the train pulled into Edo, they pulled their baggage off the top compartments and stepped off onto the platform. Without further ado, they walked in silence, making their way back to their home.

He waited until they were at an intersection not too far away from the city. She had requested they wouldn't be seen in Edo, and he intended on respecting her wishes. 

"Sarutobi, listen."

Half of her attention was on him. He didn't blame her one bit - it had been a long and tiring day, traveling back from the village and back into the chaos that was Edo - but he knew it was the right thing to do.

"Hm?"

"We should stop doing this," he said.

"Doing what?"

"The contract. I'm ending it."

Now her eyes widened. "But why?"

This part had been the one he'd debated on all day. It was hard to see her beautiful face and to know she would never really be his. And so, this had been a necessary evil, a tactic he couldn't delay any more.

The truth, incisive as it was - would set him free.

"Because all of this - it's a waste of time for you. You're spending time that you should be spending on him, not me."

- tbc 

Chapter Text

"When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving oneself, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."

— Oscar Wilde

The train ride back home had been strange. 

Zenzou hadn't spoken to her much, and if she asked him any questions, he'd only answer in curt, short answers. It made her uneasy, even though she had known that this was how he normally treated most people. 

It wasn't the way he normally was around her, though. Even if he was stressed, he'd still make the time to acknowledge her in some way - whether it was through expressing his irritation, or exasperation with her normal quips. She knew she was funny most of the time - and even though most of the time he'd pretend she really wasn't, he'd at least play along once in a while. 

But she knew that there were complications that sometimes came with his position, and so she had decided not to press the issue further. Overall, it had been a pretty strange trip, and nothing about it had felt normal. 

Like her feelings. 

Before they had left Edo, their routine had been fairly simple. They'd meet up at night, have a drink or two, sleep together, and depending where the location was, one of them would leave at the end of it. 

It was simple. 

Uncomplicated. 

But now it wasn't that way anymore. And she wasn't sure why. 

She had expected Wakikaoru to see through the true nature of their relationship, for some reason. She wasn't the best of actors, and neither was Zenzou - but for some reason, Wakikaoru had genuinely believed them to be a real couple. 

It pointed at something she didn't want to think about too deeply. 

That afternoon, Waki had been extra nice to her - well, as nice as a Madonna could ever be towards her arch-enemy. 

"Castella?" she asked, unwrapping a box from a high-end bakery that had been famous in Edo. Zenzou had left the room at the time, and she was feeling extra vulnerable, as if her guard had to be up with his disappearance. "I bought it for you." 

"No thanks," Ayame had said rudely. "It has too many calories." 

"Just one slice, then," the redhead said, always pushy. "And anyways, even if you gained a little bit of weight, I'm sure he'd still be in love with you." 

She'd been ready to retort that her boss wasn't in love with her - before remembering they were supposed to keep up with the charade of being an actual couple. 

"... Fine." 

Unfortunately, the cake was delicious. She stabbed into it, as if this was a huge conspiracy working against her to attain Gintoki. 

Wakikaoru had taken a dainty bite of her slice and dabbed her mouth with a napkin, right before leaning towards Ayame. 

"You know, I'm still wondering how you really feel about all this. You were already prepared to throw your life away for that samurai. Are you just settling for our boss?"

"Settling is a derogatory term," Ayame said. "And anyways, I'm not his dream girl anyway, by a long shot. If I'm settling, then we're mutually settling for each other."

There was a pause, before Wakikaoru resumed talking again. "You say that, but - " There was a sigh. "He loves you. Surely you knew that from the start of all this, right? He wouldn't pick just anybody to do this. His natural state of being is to be alone."

"I don't know about that," Ayame responded, and took another bite of the castella. It was disgustingly sweet and delicious and addictive, something she knew that Gintoki would love. "It seems like he can't stand me most of the time." 

All of those things he said before - like the time where he said her body belonged to him, or the time she asked if he was jealous of Gintoki - didn't count. She could concede that he found her attractive, or at least sexy enough to sleep with on multiple occasions.

But in terms of love, that was a different matter entirely.

Never mind that innocent kiss on her knuckles, or the fact that he had slipped an arm around her waist last night, even though that was clearly against The Rules. It was just... a mistake. A minor slip of the regimented and regulated negotiation that had defined the last month and a half.  

Either way, she had always known their relationship was never going to be a conventional one. Girls weren't supposed to be stalkers, and boys weren't supposed to prefer ugly girls. 

"Our boss isn't that hard to figure out," Wakikaoru said. "He trusted you to lead the Oniwabanshu when he left Edo because you were the first one to figure out it was him on that ship years ago. Nobody else - not me, Shou, or Shuwa - had that sort of intuition. He didn't promote you because he was biased. It was based on pure meritocracy." 

"I'm flattered that you think I didn't sleep my way to the top," Ayame commented dryly. "I would have expected you to think otherwise."

Wakikaoru sighed, putting her fork down. "No one does, but if you think that's not something he's not focused on, then you ought to know that it's something he takes really seriously." 

Shinobi excellence being a point in her favor? Ayame snorted. "Trust him to have odd criteria for a girlfriend." 

"Well, yes, but someone that fanatically obsessive about being the best could only respect someone like you, right?" 

"Waki-chan, I don't think our relationship is that complex. It just happened, okay?" 

 Or more simply put, their bodies were hyper-compatible in one area only and not at all suitable for anything else beyond one, or two, or three orgasms. That was her final opinion on the matter. 

"Okay," Wakikaoru said, and there was a soft smile that Ayame really wished she could rip off her face. It was as if she believed there was a deeper meaning beyond what Ayame was willing to say out loud. "I'll take your word for it, then." 

"Sarutobi, we're here," her boss said, shaking her out of her sleep. Her eyes were bleary, but she yawned and stood up from her train compartment. 

He still wasn't looking at her. His bangs were covering his eyes as usual. 

She hoped that tomorrow would bring the old him back. Maybe he was under too much stress, after all. 

They walked side by side to the edge of the city in silence, and then he stopped. It had been so sudden that she hadn't heard him calling her name the first time. 

"Sarutobi, listen."

"Hm?"

"We should stop doing this," he said.

"Doing what?"

"The contract. I'm ending it."

Now her eyes widened. "But why?"

"Because all of this - it's a waste of time for you. You're spending time that you should be spending on him, not me."

"What... what do you mean?" 

She didn't understand. Had she done something wrong? Was she that bad in bed that he was finally calling it off? 

There was a pause, before Zenzou sighed. 

"I just can't do this anymore," he admitted, and there was a moment where he looked so defeated, that she couldn't help but to be alarmed. 

"If this is about Gintoki... " she started, and then swallowed. She had an idea of what he was about to say, and it frightened her. "You said to me - you said that - "

Her voice shook, unable to say it out loud. 

Your heart might belong to him, but your body is mine. You know that, don't you?

He finally looked at her, resigned. "And that's the problem. I don't want to hand you over to anyone. Not anymore."

Her throat closed up, and she was finding it hard to breathe.

"I don't want anyone else to touch you but me. I want your whole heart and body, I want you to belong to me, and only to me. But that can't happen if you care about someone else in the meantime." 

In all her years of knowing the person next to her, Ayame had never seen him talk about this way towards anyone else. Nor had he ever talked at length about anything like this, preferring to give sarcastic comments whenever possible. To see her boss speaking so candidly and sincerely had put her in a state of catatonic shock. 

He was looking away from her now. "I don't think a single day has gone by this week that I haven't regretted saying anything to you the day I had a chance to be with you years ago, long before we did any of this. That was long before you met him - before we moved here, before I left Edo." 

"Zenzou... " 

He gave her a wry smile, and something in her heart broke. "I thought at first - that I was protecting you in my own way. That you could pursue him without any fear, like you normally would. But I didn't realize how painful it was to know you in a way that no one else did - and to realize that I was alone by myself at the end of the night. You're my blind spot - and you've always been that way for me since the day I met you. It's no surprise that I found my will to live the moment you showed up on that ship, rescuing me from dying alone." 

Go, Sarutobi. A cat doesn't let others see its last breath.

She remembered that she had refused. Had yelled at him that she wouldn't leave him alone. 

I've had enough of your ugly crying face. I won't let you cry in front of me ever again.

She was dying, in front of him. 

I was the one who always ran off on my own, and you scolded me each time. So don't you dare die before me.

She was bleeding in front of him as he stared at her desperately, horrified that she'd sacrificed herself to save him for nothing. They were both dying. Both on the brink of disappearing from this lifetime. 

The memory of his voice from that time was making it hard for her to breathe.

She had memorized those words enough times but had never thought to interpret them any deeper than a colleague who had known her since the very beginning. 

He loved you a long time ago, before any of this happened. 

It had been so obvious in retrospect - and she had never understood. 

Ayame forced herself to look at him, tears already forming in her eyes, a lifetime of denial pouring from her mouth.

"Stop it. You don't - you don't mean that. You've never liked... you never seemed like you enjoyed being around me, or with me... You left me two years ago without telling me where you were going... " 

"It's because I'm good at lying to myself," he admitted, his face paler than usual. Yet his eyes were resolute, as if he was intent on purging every emotion to the very end. "It's one thing to believe that I was destined to be alone, when you're not sleeping next to me. Before we did all this, it was easy for me to ignore how beautiful you looked when you were too busy chasing someone else. I could have told myself that I was only nostalgic for the days before we understood what it was like to kill someone and think nothing more of it. I could have ignored you for the rest of my life if you didn't keep barging into my house without asking for my permission. But I can't do any of those things anymore, because I know now that I'm hopelessly in love with you."

A burning guilt loomed in her chest, and though Ayame didn't want to cry now of all times, the tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. 

A hollow feeling crept across her body, and it was as if she could feel every bit of his pain inside of her.

How had she never noticed? 

And yet.

It wasn't enough for her to do what was obvious to everyone else. 

Gintoki. An image of the samurai flashed in her brain.

Was she ready to completely give her pursuit, after all that time? 

It was too tempting to let go of what had remained a fantasy for so long. But Ayame knew better than that. She wasn't... ready. 

She was confused.

She was caught in between two people, and unsure of which direction she was supposed to take. 

And he knew it, too. 

He deserved honesty from her at this moment. This much, she was sure of. He had done so much for her and had received so little in return.

"You're right. We should... stop. I'm sorry. I can't return your feelings, after all." 

The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.  

The tears started trickling down her face, hating that he'd put her in this position, hating that it had all come down to this. She had always been a sentimental girl, and that had never changed regardless of which man she chose to associate with. 

She had never meant to hurt him. 

Zenzou looked at her, smiled, and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. Clearly he had anticipated her answer, but it hadn't changed his decision one iota. "The fact that you're crying ought to make me sad, but for some reason, I feel happy that you're miserable on my behalf..." He lifted her glasses, carefully wiped her tears away, and pressed the cloth into her hand. "Thank you, Sarutobi." 

He carded his hands through his hair, and his eyes seemed tired. "Listen, I'll just ask you for a favor. Let's pretend this never happened. I'll do my best to get over you - because frankly, we should have never gone this far in the first place - and I'll make my excuses to the higher up in a few years when I'm good and ready to find a proper wife. In the meantime, I... " He trailed off, swallowing. "I won't see you again. Not for a while, at least." 

He turned away from her, his hands in his pockets. Ayame could see there was a visible weight lifted off him, even though her own chest was heavy. Had he been walking around all this time, burdened with those feelings? 

"Don't leave this city," she said, and against her will, her hand was shaking, clinging onto the handkerchief as if it was a lifeline. "Don't.. don't do that for my sake." 

It was selfish of her to ask for such things, but then again, she was not particularly well-suited to be a selfless person. 

"No, I wouldn't do that again, since the Princess still needs us to protect Shigeshige's will." He tone was reasonable, far too logical for someone who had confessed his feelings half a minute ago. "But as far as contacting me goes, I'll be truly invisible to you." 

He meant it, too. There had been so many times where she had looked for him when he was missing those two years, and had found no trace of him.

But what if I need to talk to you? she thought to herself desperately. What if I need to see you? 

He looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking. "You'll live," he answered, even though she hadn't said anything to him. "If you were able to stay here for two years without me, I'm sure my momentary absence will be nothing in comparison." 

Her fist clenched. Things were different now, and she wasn't sure she could go back. 

"It'll be okay," he said, and then squeezed her hand. When he let go, she realized that her price of two gold bars - had slipped into her palm. The mission, after all, had been accomplished. 

A breakup, Ayame thought to herself. This is a breakup. It was never supposed to be that serious in the first place, but now it was viscerally real, and something had been irrevocably damaged in the process. 

He wouldn't trust that his feelings for her could be kept under wraps. This was why he had to cut off contact from her. 

And that hurt. 

Her boss looked at her for a moment, and then as if he was debating with himself, pressed his palm against her jawline, his thumb stroking her cheek. It was the same hand that had protected her, caressed her, held her close, and had taken away lives for her sake.

"Goodbye, Sarutobi," he said softly, and then she felt the familiar emptiness in her chest when he let go. It was the same one when he told her he was leaving Edo, and she wasn't sure if he'd ever come back. 

He turned from her, his body disappearing into the dark as he walked away. It was as if he had never been there in the first place.

If a delusional part of her had expected things to go back to normal, Ayame was sorely disabused of that illusion when she returned home to her apartment. Though he never left anything behind with him after they finished their sessions, there were traces of him everywhere. The lingering scent of his cologne was still on her pillow - and strands of his hair tucked in random places, as if he had imprinted himself on her. 

There was still a bottle of whiskey she had bought for him sitting in her cupboard. Part of her knew she should just throw it away. 

But she didn't. Instead, she pushed it in the back, so that she wouldn't see it, and shuffled other pantry items so it covered the silhouette of the bottle. 

An apt metaphor for their relationship - or lack of it. 

She knew she wouldn't be going to sleep for a very long time, despite her innate exhaustion. So instead of going to bed, she resolutely sat on the rooftop of her apartment, willing to think of anything else. Anything but him. 

Did she miss him? 

Yes. 

Did his words haunt her when she came home alone at night, with no one to wait for her at the end of a long and grueling mission?

Yes. 

She missed talking to him. She had missed the way he would look at her, and respond with his full and complete attention, even if he was annoyed or exasperated with her. There was a sense of ease and camaraderie that had sprung from their years of knowing each other so well. She never had to put up any pretenses of who she was, and he, for what it was worth, had never needed her to. She had taken his acceptance for granted, and had never questioned it until it was gone. She had missed his wry sense of humor and the inevitable power play that would happen between the two of them - in both conversation and in bed. 

But did she love him back? 

Some days she would think yes, and some nights she would think her affection for him was only in retaliation for all the years of stalemate she had spent on Gintoki. But when it was especially late at night, she would allow herself to dream of another world, one where she was brave enough to kiss him back when they were sixteen - a world where they could have exclusively only known each other in a romantic sense. It was a far more idealistic version, uncorrupted by the versions of themselves that existed in the here and now. They were innocent, pathetic dreams that would never come to pass. 

Then there were the lurid dreams. The ones where she would wake up in the morning, needing to touch herself to orgasm before she rose from bed for the day. Her subconsciousness would remind her night after night the way he would pin her down to fuck her, until she came over and over again, and then make her take him in her mouth until he was finished. Unlike her girlish dreams, these were based on reality. She hadn't imagined any of it, after all; such things had happened in the past, and her body desperately missed his now that he was gone. 

A few of those dreams, and she'd find herself masturbating furiously several times until she was sated. Her insomnia had returned with a roaring vengeance, and she'd let herself tire of exhaustion before she reached down there and touched herself. She told herself that it was only because she needed to sleep. 

Which, of course, became the only way she could go to sleep. 

"I have a job for you," one of the usual retainers said, slipping her a gold bar next to the dango stall that was occupied that afternoon. Ayame accepted it without asking further questions. 

As it turned out, the job was a dirty affair - and it was a long and protracted assignment, one without any heroes or villains. She had quietly taken care of the body before the sun went down, but knew that if she returned home it would be a very long night where she wouldn't get much sleep, if any at all. And plus, she didn't feel like going home at the moment. 

There weren't many good solutions to this. She decided to get drunk. 

It was considered bad form, of course, for an assassin to become inebriated. But she was tired of overthinking things. Sick of not knowing what path she should take. 

Whenever she used to feel this depressed, it was actually quite normal for her to visit Zenzou's house. It wasn't him as a person that she sought out, necessarily. But his estate had felt like a second home; a place of refuge, of understanding. He never liked that she would use his enormously sized bath to scrub the bloodstains from her skin, or that she would crawl into one of his spare rooms as a convenient place to sleep after a long night. But at the very least, he wouldn't kick her out. It would have been too stingy of him to refuse her company, considering he had all that open space to himself. 

Now, she was prevented from using this as an option in times of distress, and so she wandered into an izakaya. It was located close to Gintoki's apartment, though she hadn't picked it for that reason. It was simply the closest option to her at the time. 

The first strong drink went down easily. The second one went down even faster. 

She quickly lost count of how much she drank, ignoring the snacks she had ordered. She was simply intent on forgetting everything, to suffocate every emotion until she was ready to head home and fall into a dreamless sleep. 

It was when her vision started to blur that she decided to stop. 

After finishing her last drink, she stood up from her seat. Unfortunately, she had miscalculated her tolerance level - even though it was reasonably high - and it had felt like the world was spinning around.The next thing she knew, she was leaning face down against the counter.

Someone was shaking her and calling out to her. She wondered what kind of lines they were trying to say to her.

She wanted to listen somehow, but her mental and physical strength had long since reached their limit and it was impossible.

The sound of Gintoki's voice woke her up. Ayame realized she was at his apartment, lying on his couch. He must have carried her all the way there from the bar, and a sick sense of pleasure pervaded her as she absorbed this piece of knowledge. Then, after a moment of contemplation, she was ashamed because he had found her in this state. 

"Hello, Isomura-kun? Yes, it's the Yorozuya. I have a special request for you, actually... " 

The ground was swirling around her, and Ayame wondered who Gintoki was talking to. She didn't know who Isomura was, even though the name sounded vaguely familiar to her. Then again, Gintoki often did that on purpose. He'd call people names that weren't theirs just to piss them off. 

"It's Sacchan," Gintoki said. "She's had too much to drink and she's at my place now. I need you to take her home. I don't know her address." 

There was a pause. 

"What do you mean, let her stay there? I have a teenager at home. Do you really want me to expose her to that kind of education? Imagine if her father heard about me exposing her to that kind of perverted roleplay. If you really think about it, Isomura-kun, you don't have any children yourself, so it's probably not anything that you think about on the regular, but -- " 

The other person had cut him off, and Gintoki waited until they had stopped speaking again. 

"Tying her up? How am I supposed to compete with that masochistic freak? I'd be too anxious to sleep. There's no way I could tie her up now. And what if I oversleep and miss my copy of Jump at our usual store? What are you going to do?"

Another half a minute passed by. "What do you even mean, you're not on speaking terms with her? Actually, I don't care. Just pick her up, already! I'm tired of doing your dirty work for you... " 

So allegedly Ayame knew who Isomura was, and also was on bad terms with them. Strangely, no bells were ringing in her head. She was trying to narrow down the names of all the acquaintances she knew; there weren't many, but her head was spinning too much for her to focus. The conversation was winding down, and she didn't have any more energy to wonder who he was speaking to. 

She rested her head on the sofa, feeling sick to her stomach. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to seduce Gintoki.

It wasn't long until the samurai slammed the phone down with disgust. "Oi, Sacchan. Get up. There's a taxi coming here soon. Our benefactor has kindly booked us a way for you to get home." 

"No, Gin-san, please don't kick me out," she begged, but his eyes were resolute, and she knew she had no chance of putting a good fight against him, especially in her inebriated state. 

God. She was really going to cry, wasn't she? Really, she ought to take a leaf out of Tsukuyo's book and keep a far distance from men. 

Blinking her tears fast, she stumbled to her feet.

Sighing, Gintoki held out his hand, and said, "I'll wait for you outside. I don't want you to stumble on the stairs." 

If she wasn't so drunk... damn it. She shouldn't have drank so much. Why did she even start drinking in the first place? 

She took his offer, and his palm was warm. 

Strong. Capable. 

Like Zenzou's hands, Gintoki's were calloused. She had never noticed that before. 

This should have been exciting. 

Instead, there was a coldness to Gintoki that was foreign to her, after knowing the intimate warmth of another man. Even though she was heading down the stairs, holding his hand, she felt no affection in his hand. It was purely practical at best. 

Why are you like this? I love you, she thought to herself. I would do anything for you.

I betrayed the person who knew me best so I could love you better. 

She made it to the last stair, before leaning on the doorway of Otose's shop, emotionally exhausted as she tried to hold herself together. It had felt like an entire decade had passed by her in the last month and a half.

"Hey, Sacchan... are you all right? You don't seem... okay." 

Ayame raised her head up, and looked at him. 

This was Sakata Gintoki, a surprisingly fragile man for all his bravado and strength. She gathered up the last of her courage and strength, and pulled herself up to face him directly. 

"Why won't you sleep with me, Gin-san?" 

Her voice was surprisingly lucid for how much she had drank. 

It was a straightforward question. In her own way, Ayame had never asked him directly before because she had preferred to remain ignorant of the truth. 

She had hoped one day that he would fall in love with her and understand her for who she was. It had been one of her fundamental beliefs that had stayed with her for so long, and it was starting to crumble into a million pieces. 

His eyes widened. 

There was a quiet array of emotions flashing across his face - first shock, and then imminent realization that with this question - 

This was the beginning of an end. 

After this, whatever they had - the endless hours of stalking, the fruitless pursuit for his love, the episodes of her plotting and scheming to get over and under him - 

There was a finality in all of this. 

"I don't need you to marry me," she said, her voice even, even though she was hiccuping slightly, her feet swaying from side to side. "I won't cling onto you anymore. I mean - I'm not even a virgin anymore. So, why won't you hold me? Am I not enough for you... ?" 

She gestured emptily to her body. She had been so proud of it once; every excess kilogram staved off through a steady combination of exercising and caloric restraint. All in the name of attaining him and him only. 

But what was the point of it now, if he couldn't hold her close? 

If he couldn't kiss her, or tell her that he loved her - 

What was it all for? 

Gintoki swallowed, obviously tormented by the disarming honesty of her words. The weight of her request - and confession - seemed almost too much for him to bear. 

"Sacchan... I can't give you what you need. Somebody out there can, maybe one day. But it won't be me." 

"Why can't you give me what I need?" 

His eyes softened. It was almost as if he was fond of her, but she could also see the pity in them. 

"Because I'm not in love with you. It doesn't matter what you do from now on, or tomorrow, or the years to come. I wish I could make you happy, but that's not how things work. You can't make someone love you if it's not meant to be. Besides... " 

"Are you in love with someone else?" Ayame asked, her hand trembling. 

There was a pause, and it told her enough to know it wasn't her. 

It would never be her. 

The golden lights of the taxi crept up on Otose's Snack House, drowning his face out, and for a moment the blinding brightness was enough for her to close her eyes out of instinct. 

"Go home, Sacchan," Gintoki said quietly, and the door to the car opened. 

There was nothing more she could do. He wouldn't change his mind, no matter how much she wanted it to. 

She had already tried everything else under the sun, and it had led to the same conclusion time and time again. 

He would never be hers. 

So Ayame took a seat in the back of the car, and when the door shut firmly behind her, she finally put her hands in her face, and cried. 

- tbc

Chapter Text

"I'm never going to feel better again," Ayame whined, in the middle of finishing her second container of Bargain Dash. "It just hurts so bad, oh my God. I've felt like complete crap this entire week."

"That's completely normal, Sacchan," Tae said, who was busy painting Kyuubei's nails with a coat of shiny varnish. Being a cabaret girl had desensitized her to the hormonal soup that was womanhood. Not only did Snack Smile deal with the usual hijinks of groping clients, drunken shenanigans, and countless heartbreaks, there was also the occasional jealous boyfriend that showed up once in a while. More than once, it was Tae who had to break up the catfights that inevitably happened from time to time, especially if the girls were competing over customers and ranks during the busy season.

"It's just - " Ayame blinked back tears - "I loved Gin-san so much, and I don't know how I'm going to live without him. Is it possible to die of heartbreak?"

"Oi, stop talking like you guys were ever together," Tsukuyo said, frowning through her green clay mask. It was starting to crack, and she was getting antsy with every passing minute.

"I mean, we were spiritually and metaphysically together," Ayame insisted. "He just couldn't reconcile that I couldn't be his perfect submissive."

The courtesan looked balefully at Tae, who had finally jammed the brush into the bottle of polish. "She's gettin' delusional again, Otae."

"Let it dry," Tae instructed Kyuubei, who then inspected their fingernails carefully. "Sacchan, how many times have we gone over this? Recite the stages of grief, please."

"Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance," Ayame intoned, her voice dull.

"And what stage are we on now?"

"She fluctuates between denial and anger," Tsukuyo said bluntly. "I told her to stop drinkin' this past week, but then she just switches to the anger stage whenever she's sober. I should know, because I was on a patrol shift last Monday and she was pickin' a fight with me, sayin' that it was my fault that I was in three serious arcs with Gintoki. Again."

"Ah well, that's better than the time when she was meeting up with that homeless guy in the park, asking to borrow his noose. And then," Tae paused dramatically. "She found out Gintoki had actually slept with the guy. She started wailing so hard the Shinsengumi had to put her in jail for the last couple of days because of her being a public disturbance."

Kyuubei paused, finding this piece of gossip to be far more interesting than nail polish. "Wait, really? Not the jail part, I mean. The part where Sakata-san sleeps with another man."

"Yeah. Well, Tsukki pegged him in the Scandal arc. Would it really be all that surprising that Gin-san likes taking it up the ass?"

"I did not!" Tsukuyo yelled. "I don't remember a single damn thing happening that night!"

"Wait, what?" Ayame gasped. "Et tu, Tsukki? Even my closest friend has betrayed me," she lamented, and let the tears bubble up in her eyes.

"No way! Don't listen to her, she's just trying to get you to hate Gintoki on my behalf!" Tsukuyo denied, her cheeks bright red, and then snapped at Tae, "How long am I s'posed to keep this crap on my face, anyway?"

"Ten minutes," Tae replied calmly. "It's good for your skin, Tsukuyo."

The four of them were staying at Kyuubei's estate, this time for "Girls' Night", as Ayame's emotional crisis had been deemed a national emergency by Shimura Tae. Gintoki had phoned the Deva the day after he rejected Ayame for good, fearing a suicide watch on his behalf, and somehow the message circulated around her friends - because obviously, no one could really keep a secret like this to themselves.

She wasn't allowed to be alone for more than a day, technically speaking, and though it was fucking annoying to be surrounded by people who feared her jumping off the cliff at all times, Ayame was glad that at least she wasn't going through heartbreak alone. Tae would normally harass Ayame at the kunoichi cafe, insisting on sitting there for hours and insulting her during the daytime before leaving for her shifts at Snack Smile. And that was when Tsukuyo would insist on taking over, saying she needed a backup patrol for the Hyakka, and couldn't Sacchan please take over, because one of her girls called out sick?

"It was already bad enough that he told me he loved someone else," Ayame wailed. "But now that it's confirmed he's a closet homosexual - "

" - Bisexual," Tsukuyo automatically corrected her. "I mean, he could swing both ways, Sacchan. He talked once about wanting a foursome in Yoshiwara - "

"But samurai usually prefer the company of men!" Ayame exclaimed. "I probably never had a chance with him, realistically speaking."

There was a moment of silence, before the other women around her exchanged meaningful glances at each other.

"Well, Sacchan, that's making good progress," Tae said cheerfully, patting her on the back. "A few more days of this, and maybe you'll start to see the light."

"I mean, I'd still want to watch," Ayame sulked.

"Is that really something all that hot? Gintoki and an old homeless guy going at it doesn't sound all that erotic to me," Tsukuyo said, idly peeling off pieces of her mask. "I could think of ten things I'd rather do, personally - "

"Only because you're a sexual prude," Ayame retorted. "Do you even have urges? I've never seen you talk about wanting to do it with anyone."

"Hey, just because you put yourself where nobody asked ya to, doesn't mean I don't have urges."

"Okay, then spill. Who do you rub one out to?"

There was complete silence, before Tsukuyo admitted, "I've actually... never done it before. Masturbate, that is."

"But you get horny, right?"

"Sure. It's distractin', but it goes away after a while." Now Tsukuyo was blushing. "Can we please change the subject?"

"Sacchan, if they were genuinely homosexuals, they still wouldn't want you peeking at them while they're doing whatever they wanted to do," Otae said reprovingly, scooting over to both Ayame and Tsukuyo. She closely inspected both their complexions, before smiling at them prettily. "I also think you guys should wash your faces," she said cheerfully, patting them both on their shoulders.

The bathroom had two sinks in it, courtesy of the Yagyuu estate. Ayame didn't bother with any decorum, although she did notice it was slightly nicer than her boss's place. She dunked her head under the tap, letting the warm water wash over her face. She was grateful that it had soothed her baggy eyes - which frankly were looking worse they'd ever had in years.

She looked at Tsukuyo, who hadn't even bothered to look at the mirror once the beauty mask had been thoroughly rinsed off. Instead, she had gone straight to the towel, wiping her face dry.

Damn that bitch with her perfect skin and poreless... pores.

"Hey, Tsukki - you like Gin-san, right?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about," Tsukuyo said, her mouth instantly turning into a frown. "Don't project yourself onto me," the courtesan added, turning the faintest shade of pink.

Ayame was more than used to the cast of tsunderes in the show, and so she ignored her friend's denial. "Right, so let's say if Gin-san didn't like you in that way - as in a I want to have incredibly passionate and rough sex with you way - what would you do?"

"He doesn't like me in that way, so it doesn't matter," the courtesan said, dignified in her answer. "We would remain friends as it were."

"Then forget about Gin-san! If someone you liked didn't like you back, what would you do?"

"I would be happy for them and wish them well," the courtesan said evenly. Ayame knew she was due for a smoke break soon, even though it had only been half an hour since her last one. "Isn't that the way it's supposed ta be?"

Now Ayame was frowning. "You wouldn't feel heartbroken? Or sad? Not even a little bit?"

"Some people aren't s'posed to be with anyone. Why is it surprisin' that I'd be alone at the end?"

"That's too fatalistic, Tsukki!"

"I've already given up my womanhood," Tsukuyo replied. "I'm not even supposed ta like anyone in the first place."

It was one of those moments where Ayame sometimes wished she had the ability to exercise true celibacy, or at least pretend she was above needing sexual gratification. It was apparent to her that Tsukuyo seemed far above the realm of jealousy or desire. It was truly admirable, in a way.

And yet...

"Don't you think you're too young to live your life as a monk?" Ayame asked. "If you really wanted to be that austere, why not shave your head while you're at it, and stop wearing those fishnets? Even my outfit is a lot less sexy than yours. You don't even wear shorts under your kimono."

"This is what the gorilla wants me to wear, as a foil to Gintoki," Tsukuyo pointed out. "To some extent, you're right. The heels are somewhat ridiculous. But I put a knife at the tip of my boots, so it's not as bad as you think."

Ayame sighed. Clearly this was a subject she was not going to get any consensus on. "Okay. So moving on. Let's say Gin-san didn't like you, and then you found out that - someone else was in love with you - what would you do?"

"Again, I don't like Gintoki. And in this situation, do I even like the hypothetical guy back?"

"Um. Maybe? A little bit." Clearly Ayame hadn't thought it through. Well, she definitely had, in a "I really need an orgasm and you're the last person who fucked the brains out of me" kind of way, especially when she couldn't go to sleep, but the other stuff he'd told her had taken a backseat to her own personal rejection.

"Well, maybe I'd give 'em a try then. But I wouldn't want to string anyone along, even if I was lonely or looking for some validation after getting rejected. And by the way, how did we get into this conversation?"

"It was just a hypothetical question."

"Hm. I s'pose this hypothetical man is a figment of your imagination and not, say, an actual man?" Now Tsukuyo's eyes narrowed in slight suspicion.

"He's absolutely a figment of my imagination," Ayame confirmed, suddenly feeling warm. "Like, um, Pin-san. From the Love Choriss arc."

"Right, okay then..."

Thankfully, Tsukuyo had chosen to leave the bathroom at the moment. Ayame took a few seconds to take a deep breath before re-entering the bedroom where four futons, a flat screen HDTV, and various snacks littered all around the floor.

She hadn't told anyone, really, about the ugly truth that had led to her acceptance of Gintoki's rejection. It felt like a dirty secret she wanted to keep under wraps, until she could figure out what was really going on.

And then there were the dreams that still haunted her now and then. It felt like the more she dreamed about her boss, there was something important that she had forgotten a long time ago.

It was something that her subconscious was trying to tell her, and that she had suppressed the meaning of it for some reason or another.

"Listen, Sacchan," Tae said seriously, holding up her mobile. The screen showed profiles of different men as she swiped right. "There's this app where you can filter out prospects for income levels. I tried to filter out men who make a higher income than Kondo's yearly salary, and surprisingly, I had some hits!"

"I'm not interested," Ayame said, settling down on the kotatsu and idly flicking through the TV channels. Besides. it wasn't like she didn't have any access to anyone wealthy -

Huh? When did she start thinking this way?

"Still, it's better than moping around like this," Tae said, clucking her tongue. "Any people in your circle you might be interested in? Friends, co-workers, clients... ?"

Just one emotionally unavailable boss who had decided to ghost her indefinitely, Ayame thought, and shook her head somberly. "It's fine, seriously. I'll just be alone forever and stay unmarried for the rest of my life."

Dramatic, but it felt true at the moment, and anyways they knew better than to take her seriously.

"If it counts, Sacchan," Kyuubei said hesitantly, "I've always... kind of admired the way you decided to just go for what you wanted. I mean, not that I would do what you'd do. But at least you put yourself out there, and tried. That's a lot more than you could say for others, at least."

"Yes, not to mention that there's a whole world of eligible men out there other than one Sakata Gintoki," Tae added, and her manicured hand prettily covered Ayame's in solidarity. "I mean, you're very pretty. Not as pretty as me, of course, but - "

"At least I'm not flat as a board," Ayame cut through bitterly, which made Tsukuyo smack her on the head. "What? It's true!"

"Don't be rude," the courtesan snapped, who truthfully was both prettier and bustier than either of them. "We're trying to help you, ya idiot."

Ayame decided not to inform Tsukuyo of her superior physical attributes. Some gifts were truly wasted on others.

"Anyways," Otae said, acting as if Ayame hadn't interrupted her. "The point is, you'll live, and one day you'll hopefully find someone you won't have to stalk until oblivion. And maybe they'll actually be as sick as you are, especially with those nasty ropes and contraptions you seem to carry everywhere."

"Sure," Ayame said, ignoring the sinking feeling in the back of her head that reminded her that someone actually, probably was just as sick as she was, and actually didn't mind doing said disgusting things for her every week until he couldn't take it anymore.

"By the way, I found the things you asked for, Tae-chan," Kyuubei said. "I left them outside, since the weather was good, but I wasn't sure of the timing of it all."

"Oh, excellent!" Tae clapped her hands, as if she was in a B'z concert, and proceeded to walk to the back yard. "Well, you did splendidly, Kyuu-chan - let's take out some champagne - and some sparkling cider for Tsukki... "

The gasoline had been poured on top of a small bundle of wood. The objects had been placed, and the drinks poured with a glass held in each girl's hand.

It was the last stage: acceptance.

"In honor of Sacchan's valiant efforts," Tae said, and struck a match. "We'll never forget how much she advanced the comedy in the show, even though we all knew this day was coming."

"She's finally advancing beyond the Sazae format of the show," Kyuubei said fondly, wiping away a tear. "Our little pioneer."

Now the fire was officially to commemorate the final blow to it all. Tama had came the other day with a USB stick, presenting it to Ayame. It was a virus that would wipe out every trace of Gintoki on her computer and phone. And Ayame, knowing that it would target her hard drive with hours of footage, videos, and digital photographs of Gintoki, had sobbed before plugging it in.

In her hands were the New Years' photos with the bad Photoshop and the wedding dress that she'd edited to make it seem like she was really married to him.

"To moving on," Tae said kindly, placing her hand on Ayame's shoulder. Somehow it was comforting and threatening at the same time. "Go on, Sacchan."

She took a deep breath, and tossed the old photos into the fire. Willing to believe that there were better things ahead, and to let go of everything she knew.

The latest issue of Maso Weekly had come out, and as usual, Ayame paid her customary visit to the convenience store nearest her apartment. Normally she would have purchased it by walking out the door while tossing the exact change near the cashier - but she had no more fucks to give, after the enormously shitty last month. Her sense of decorum had vanished, and she knew now that nothing mattered anymore.

So today, she simply ripped off the plastic packaging that covered the erotic magazine, and started skimming it openly in public.

"Interesting reading choice for a 7-11," someone commented, and she turned her head to tell them - the cashier, or whatever - to fuck off.

And then it was her boss. In the flesh.

She nearly dropped her magazine.

Zenzou held up his copy of Shonen Jump as an explanation. "I sometimes go here, if I want to avoid... the other guy."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They hadn't met in weeks - not that it was exceedingly difficult to avoid each other, considering how big Edo was. She wasn't sure of the protocol on how to proceed since the last time she'd seen him, and her heart was jumpy. Though he had trimmed his bangs, she saw that his eyes had dark circles underneath, and his jawline had gotten thinner. Apparently heartbreak did nobody any favors in the looks department.

"You don't look well," she commented dryly.

He chuckled. "Neither do you. Last week, that guy told me he was worried since you haven't visited his apartment in a month. He seemed half-convinced that your ghost would haunt him in his attic."

The Diamond Perfume girls would have never been that blunt about her appearance. For some reason, she liked it, after all the fake cheery "you'll be fine!" sympathies she'd been subjected to, as if her heart hadn't been ripped in two and it wasn't a constant dread to keep waking up in the morning without something to look forward to.

And of course, Gintoki would only pass on his care to her via another person. He could never go out of his way to say that he cared for her on his own, fearing that he'd send the wrong message.

Which she supposed was valid, knowing her way of latching onto anything as a sign of progress. It hurt all the same.

Ayame sighed.

"If I look tired, it's only because I've been really busy looking for a new apartment. For a fresh start, I guess. The neighbors keep asking me too many questions about where I'm going at night, not to mention I keep getting noise complaints every other week or so. My lease runs out in two weeks."

He nodded slowly. "It's over, then?"

She knew he wasn't really asking about the apartment. "...Yeah."

"Here," he said, tossing her something silvery and small.

She caught it, and saw that it was a set of keys.

"My spare set," Zenzou said, and now his bangs hid his eyes away from hers. "If you need a place to stay after your lease expires. Not that any shinobi from the Oniwaban should ever need keys to enter anywhere, but... " he shrugged, and headed to the entrance to pay for his copy of Jump.

She didn't even have enough time to respond, her mind curiously blank and the magazine long forgotten. Instead, she just stared at him as he left the convenience store, wondering what on Earth he was thinking, heart beating like a drum.

The first person she decided to call was Tsukuyo.

The courtesan picked up on the first ring, reliable as ever. "Sacchan?"

"If you were going on a first date with Gin-san, what color panties would you wear underneath?" Ayame asked seriously, and then the courtesan hung up.

She called her friend again, and Tsukuyo greeted her with a curse word. Ah, progress.

"What is it with you askin' wildly inappropriate questions from the beginnin' of a conversation?" she growled. "I am on patrol, goddammit. Just because I work in Yoshiwara doesn't mean I'm a - "

"Yes yes, I know, you're a virgin," Ayame replied testily. "But let's say it was your absolute last chance to get married. And I mean, there is actually nothing else for you out there. Like, we're talking about if there was only one special limited edition of person in the world, and maybe you stumble across an upgraded version that you finally found because it was marked on clearance at the back of the supermarket. It's fifty percent off, and a little damaged, but it's almost the same thing anyway."

There was a pause while Tsukuyo trying to figure out the context of the conversation. "This isn't really about Gintoki, is it? Because he probably has seen you in all sorts of panties, and I can't remember a time where he was interested one way or another."

A few months ago, she would have gouged the courtesan's eyes out. Now it was a different story. "No. Which is why I wanted your input, actually."

"... Shouldn't you move a little bit slower? I mean, I know you fell for Gintoki in the span of twenty two episodes, but - "

"This one's different. He's an... " Ayame tried to think of a term that could possibly describe the relationship between her and her boss, and sighed when nothing good came up. It was too complicated to explain right at this minute, and she didn't want to get into the specifics. "Ex-boyfriend, I guess."

"Is he even real?"

"Why would I even make this up?" Ayame asked indignantly. "I used to be really popular in ninja school, you know!"

"Do I know him, then?"

"Maybe? I'd have to do a proper rewatch. Everyone's so interconnected in this show, and I can't keep up with who knows who. But I doubt it; he's even more of a minor character than me. He doesn't even make the top 30s of a popularity poll most of the time." Not that she thought her boss actually gave a damn - he was pretty big on remaining incognito at all times.

"You'll have to introduce him to me sometime, then," Tsukuyo said, her voice a little warmer than before. "Either way, if there was a period of time where he liked you, it wouldn't matter what color your panties were, right?"

"Sure, but I want this to be absolutely perfect. I've already fucked it up a long time ago."

"Personally, I don't believe in perfection when it comes to that sort o' thing," Tsukuyo said, and now her voice was wistful. "I used ta have this friend. Really beautiful girl, went by the name o' Hotaru. You'd think a man from a courtesan's past woulda given up, thinkin' she was too impure for him or whatnot. But no. She left Yoshiwara for good a few years ago, and got married to the guy she knew long before she got too wrapped up in Yoshiwara. They sent me a wedding invitation last week, after he finally finished buildin' one of the teahouses that was destroyed in that attack last year. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be."

Ayame swallowed. "So you're saying... "

"I'm saying that none of it really matters if it's actually true love." On the other end of the line, she could hear the courtesan taking a puff from her kiseru. "You could be seventy years old, and withered; a shadow o' your prime. But the right person would wait for you. I've seen it happen, in the strangest of ways."

For someone who had sworn off her womanhood and anything vaguely connected to her femininity, she found it interesting how Tsukuyo seemed to believe in the best of love. It reminded her of... someone else she knew. Someone who had probably given up on love for a long time and thought he didn't deserve anyone, either.

"You're sort of a romantic, aren't you Tsukki?"

"I might be. Listen, I've got to go, since I'm at work, an' all of that. But you'll be okay, right Sacchan?"

Ayame let out a breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"Good."

"Hey, Tsukki?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck with picking out the right panties for Gin-san," Ayame said sincerely. She wasn't even mad when Tsukuyo furiously hung up on her for the second time.

The second phone call Ayame made was not a phone call at all.

She had wheedled Sakata Gintoki into meeting her, interestingly, by the promise of two parfaits at the Battle Royale cafe. Another lesson she had learned from her almost lifelong pursuit of the man himself: it wasn't really about what she wanted.

Sometimes it was what the other person wanted, too. Maybe that was her fault in the first place, for looking at things in a too linear way.

"Don't put a curse on me," Gintoki said uneasily, right before he dug into his dessert. He was uncharacteristically early to her appointment. "You're definitely not a ghost sent to punish me, right? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or so they say."

"Not a ghost," Ayame said. She felt grown up, somehow. More wise, more battered.

"Why invite me out on this date, then? At this point, we should be doing our old song and dance. The beautiful and unnecessary shibari, the shitty glasses from the discount bin that you took on so many excursions, the sexual harassment that honestly should have gotten you locked up in prison. What's going on?"

"Because I wanted to say thank you. For everything."

Thank you for letting me love you the only way I knew how. Thank you for being merciful even when you could have been cruel.

Thank you for being you.

It wasn't very often that Gintoki actually looked at her directly. His usual go-to was to pretend he never saw her in the first place, until she decided to escalate things. Only then would he snap at her like an annoying pest.

But her seeking closure had bought out the best from them both.

His hands were fidgeting. "It's not that big of a deal. Really, I... " He suddenly looked anxious, and somehow Ayame was reminded that he'd always been uncomfortable with full blown affection or compliments. Even around his own children, there had always been this emotional barrier between what he said and what he actually did. "I didn't do anything."

"I still haven't forgotten that you were willing to marry me," she reminded him, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Well..." he said, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm glad we didn't have to, in the end. And I'm not just saying that because I don't like you that way, you know. I'm saying that because you deserve better. You would have been really unhappy with me, Sacchan."

"What do you mean?" she asked, somewhat curious. All this time, she had assumed the samurai had looked down upon her, for whatever reason. This didn't bother her necessarily because she enjoyed degradation in all its physical and emotional forms, but...

"Like goes with like," Gintoki said, and he idly swirled the parfait around, mixing together the ice cream and chocolate syrup. "I think you would have been stifled by me. Even you with all your passion for living would have gotten sick of my shit eventually. The way you express love, and the way you feel it... it's not something I'd be able to reciprocate in equal measure. You're too used to going after what you want."

"And you're not?"

He chuckled. "No, not really. I'm more of the admire from a far distance and never make a move because I'm a piece of shit type. I think a lot of us in the show are, really."

She blinked. "What happens when you end up alone?"

"I've always been alone," Gintoki said, shrugging, knowing that she was talking about romance and not his found family. "I don't think that'll ever change."

"That's a shame."

He shrugged. "It is what it is."

If Ayame had been a more generous type of person, she would have spent a good hour going through all of his positive attributes. Half of them probably would have been how he continued to save the world countless times, in both big or small ways. She hadn't stalked him for nothing, after all. Hadn't fallen in love for no reason.

But unfortunately, unlike Tsukuyo, she had always been selfish in her own way. That was his own personal baggage to deal with, and he'd have to live with that for the rest of his life. She couldn't save him from himself. There was another part of her, too, that was still a little hurt by his rejection.

"I have some questions," she said, changing the subject.

"Go for it," he said. "Can't promise I'll answer them, but you can try."

"That party in the last chapter of Gintama, when we celebrated the ending of the show. Lesson 703."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Why did you... " Ayame took a deep breath, and released it, shaky. "Why did you throw me onto Zenzou's table that day?"

A curious thing happened. Gintoki's normally dead fish eyes sparkled, and there was amusement in his half smile, as if he knew something she didn't.

"Oh, that? Why do you ask?"

Her hand gripped the spoon. "I've just been wondering if... if you knew something. That's all."

At the time, she'd been more focused on the candles that Gintoki had shoved into her mouth. Her boss had simply been perplexed, leaning over her as if she was a curious object on display.

"He's a funny person, that hemorrhoid ninja," Gintoki said. "I can't stand someone who's that halfhearted, even though I understand him as a fellow admire-from-a-distance kind of guy. It's like, hey! Do you actually want to help your subordinate get the guy of her dreams, or not? Commit to either loving her or leaving her alone, you bastard. Anyways, you were half dead in the hospital after I gave you those shitty bargain-bin glasses, but I wouldn't have known a single thing if he didn't call my number, asking me to save your sorry ass. Later, the nurse told me later some mysterious, shadowy guy had carried you to the hospital once I started investigating things. The hypocrite even had the audacity to tell me that shinobi aren't like samurai at all - that they're supposed to treat others like strangers. Which, frankly, undercuts the message of Naruto if you ask me. Naruto-kun never stopped thinking of Sasuke, as a matter of fact... "

Ayame's hand was shaking.

"And then, I'll never forget the day where he actually handed me the last copy of Jump, after all those years of us fighting over it in the convenience store. Again, this piece of shit turns to me and says, 'I'd rather her chase some samurai's butt, than to go after the Shogun's ass,' all while looking at you wistfully, like he was about to do something crazy like assassinating the Shogun, knowing he'd betray the entire nation. Who does he think he is, Orpheus? You're not Eurydice, and Edo isn't the underworld."

Gintoki finally put his spoon back into the empty glass, leaning back in his booth as if he was talking about the weather. "But what do I know, anyway? I'm sure I know ab-so-lute-ly nothing about the relationship between you and him. In fact, I think I must have thrown you there by accident. Maybe you just hallucinated the whole thing the day of the party; after all, I did try to stuff as many candles in your mouth since you're probably into waxplay or some sick shit like that."

"I have to go," Ayame said, her voice shaky and high pitched. She took out her wallet, and placed a crisp ten thousand yen bill on the table. "I just remembered I had, um, a pilates class to go to. I can't cancel it. Nonrefundable deposit."

"No problem," Gintoki said, his grin sly as he pocketed her money. She knew that it would probably go towards a round of pachinko, but it didn't matter. "And Sacchan?"

She had stumbled slightly, knocking her knee against the table as she got up unsteadily from her seat. "Y-yeah?"

"Thanks for the date," he said, winking at her with the confident, charming smile that had hooked her in for years. "It was a pleasure. Next time you want to visit me, just go through the front door. The Yorozuyas will be happy to welcome you with open hands."

- tbc

Chapter Text

Fifteen was a funny age.

By fifteen, most girls had finished going through the painful process of puberty, while the boys - well. They still had some growing up to do, Zenzou included. But the memory of that summer continued to exist in his mind as a reference point. The shift between 'annoying classmate' to 'someone of interest' had occurred there, and if he had to pinpoint a specific time of when Sarutobi started to look different to him, he would have concluded that summer was the start of it all. 

Most of the time she would yell at him for something - skipping class, forgetting to clean up the classroom, or just plain disrupting the lessons with how often his old man fought with him in the middle of the lecture. 

But that summer she had started growing out her hair. He supposed it was to make her look more grown up, or that she stopped being ashamed of how bright her hair was. Sometimes she put it in a ponytail, and sometimes she left it alone, but either way, it had started to grow past her shoulders. 

It wasn't the only thing that had increased that summer; her eyesight had grown considerably worse, too. But his father - who seemingly preferred her more than his own son - would take great pains to take her to an optometrist in the city where the doctor could fix her lenses each time her prescription was changed. Thus, her grades in the ninja academy remained mostly the same with her tenacious discipline to keep up with everyone else who didn't have such a handicap.

It didn't stop him from putting his leg out in front of hers from time to time, making her trip whenever she walked to the front of the classroom. Especially if she ratted him out to their father about how often he skipped class. 

It was no surprise to anyone that the segregation between the boys and girls grew increasingly distant as they matured, and that summer, Zenzou's father had put all of the teenaged boys on sentry duty during the second Jouishishi war. As it was unlikely that their village was in danger as it was far from Edo, and basically impossible to invade without a lot of prior knowledge of shinobi country - they had complained about the mundane task at hand. 

One afternoon he was paired with Shuwa, who had recently come up with a variation of "Fuck, Marry, or Kill." It was a fairly banal game, but it had gotten to be a subject of interest among many of the adolescent males living in Shiranui at the time. 

"Hamasaki Ayumu." 

"No thanks, I don't want to play." Plus, he wasn't into pop stars and could barely recall any of her songs. 

"Humor me," Shuwa pleaded. "We've got ten hours left on this shift." 

"That long? Damn my old man," Zenzou grumbled. "Who does he think he is, the Shogun?" 

"Answer the question, dickhead." 

"Fine. I'll marry her, kill you, and I'll fuck your mom." This was generally how most of Zenzou's replies went, which made the rest of his classmates not wanting to bother him during shift breaks. Gou wasn't any better. He would say something sentimental like, "I'll marry Wakikaoru, make love to her after we get married, and kill all the Jouishishi rebels," which, in Zenzou's opinion, was an incredibly corny answer. 

"Keep my mother's name out of your mouth, prick," Shuwa growled. "Okay, how about Sarutobi?" 

"Kill her," was Zenzou's instant answer. 

"Wait, why?! She's got really big jugs." 

"Who cares? She's too obsessed with being a shinobi. Honestly, it's creepy. Who wakes up at five in the morning to practice throwing kunai?" 

"Yeah, but she's hot." 

"Hot? Maybe you're the one who needs to get your eyes checked instead of her." 

That said, when Monday came around and it was time for them to take their seats, he actually did notice for the first time that Sarutobi had, in fact, a big chest. Though the kimono was modest, the fabric couldn't quite obscure her blossoming womanhood. It was a shame, really, that such a pretty girl was more interested in the gory mechanisms of assassination than partaking in other more feminine hobbies. 

Unfortunately, she caught his gaze. "My eyes are up here, Zenzou," Sarutobi said to him nastily. It was rather impressive considering that his bangs covered his eyes. 

"As if I'd ever be interested in someone like you," he muttered, taking his seat next to hers. "Don't flatter yourself, Sarutobi." 

She glared at him and then ignored him for the rest of the day, which suited him just fine. He knew she thought of him as a product of nepotism, but he didn't have to try half as hard as she did in the physical training exercises, and his aim with kunai was always flawless. Hers wasn't as accurate, owing to her poor eyesight - but the kunai competitions always infuriated her when he consistently came out on top. He'd gloat, she'd punch him in the stomach, and then his father would make him apologize for making her feel bad. Overall, no one could deny she was a sore loser. 

Then a few months later, the dreaded seduction games took place. Once the entire graduating class had all turned sixteen, the final selection would take place - and then they'd have to prove their fitfulness in the so-called 'dark arts' of utilizing sexual activities under a mission. It was considered a rite of passage to adulthood, and ruthlessly weeded out the weakest links in the ninja academy.  

After all, how could you expect someone to kill another human being if they couldn't mindlessly fuck someone they didn't care about in the first place? A ninja was supposed to compartmentalize everything, including their emotional entanglements.

Adding feelings into the matter would inevitably screw everything up, especially when it came to teenage hormones. It was a cruel exam for those who put intimacy on a pedestal. 

"Hey buddy, who'd you get?" Shuwa asked, holding up his matching ticket as if he'd won the lottery. "I got Minako-chan," - who truthfully wasn't much of a looker, but at that age, a teen boy was grateful to have any options. 

Zenzou unfurled his ticket. "Sarutobi," he duly noted, and knew he was going to fail the test. 

Shuwa clapped him on the shoulder. "What amazingly good luck! You'd better enjoy it, then. I've heard from good authority that her tits are the biggest. Way bigger than every other girl in school!" 

He didn't enjoy it at all. 

There was something truly horrific about being forced to sit in the same room with a girl who hated you, and couldn't even stand to look at you. 

And he was supposed to sleep with her, in order to graduate from ninja school? 

God himself couldn't have come up with a worst punishment for either of them. 

Sarutobi hadn't spoken to him ever since he silently passed her a note in class, detailing the directions of his room, a day, and a time where she could sneak into his bedroom. The estate was expansive and wide, and he somewhat hoped she'd get lost on the way to his location. 

When she slid open his bedroom window, something had sunk into his stomach pit. She didn't look excited, or happy at all. Instead, her mouth had been set into a grim line of determination. 

They stared at each other, and she finally jumped onto the tatami floor. 

His room had been cleaned, of course, and there were the condoms he'd stolen from his old man's stash. But none of it was romantic, really. They were here for practical reasons more so than anything. 

Her hair was tied up, and suddenly, a look of nervousness pervaded her.  

"Hey, Sarutobi... " He swallowed, not sure how to continue the conversation. Girls weren't his forte. He was used to the main characters of Shonen Jump fast forwarding to the ending where they settled down with a wife and two adorable children, but such stories never really went into detail of how it actually happened. (Not that he actually wanted to have a family with her - he was sure hell would freeze over before that ever happened.) 

Sarutobi froze, her face suddenly terrified. 

"... Maybe we should reschedule a different time?" he asked tentatively, and then she burst into tears. 

He was alarmed, and looked hurriedly for a tissue box. Finding one next to the futon - well, hey, he couldn't keep jerking off into his socks, could he? - he gingerly handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose most unattractively into it. 

"All I ever wanted was to become a kunoichi," she sobbed. "But not - not like - this." 

Zenzou wasn't really sure what to do, and handed her another tissue. She took it from him without saying another word of thanks. Apparently, the prospect of sleeping with her rival was so unappealing that she was starting to insult him beyond a personal level. 

"What h-happened to a g-girl's delicacy?" Sarutobi moaned. "It'd be one thing if I'd already fallen in love with someone else and done it already. But to expect me to give away my v-virginity? Just like that? You c-could have asked me on a d-date before asking me to come to your room, at least. You insensitive b-b-bastard!" 

Now Zenzou was annoyed as hell. "Who has the time for any of that?" he argued back, his temper quick to rise. "You're a kunoichi. What if you're supposed to seduce the enemy on a mission? Are you going to waste your time trying to make them your real boyfriend?" 

"Fuck you!" she yelled at him back. "You - you have no idea what you're doing! I only want to do it w-with someone I love! Not h-hate!" 

"Fine!" he said, truly irritated with his classmate. But even with his temper running high, his common sense finally kicked in. "We'll make up a story, and lie to everyone. Just pretend that we did it tonight, and we'll never have to meet up again like this." 

Her eyes shined in relief, still glossy from her tears. "R-really?" 

"Yes," he snapped. 

And that had put a permanent stop to any chance of a potential romance kindling between the two of them. The incident was never mentioned again for years, and she point-blank refused to talk to him for weeks after it happened.

But from then on, there was a certain tension between them - a notion that things could have gone far differently had Zenzou chosen to be more sympathetic to her that night. Underneath his temper, there had been a feeling of disappointment that had never fully disappeared. In a world that had proper do-over's, that particular evening would have ranked high on the list of things for him to fix. Maybe he could have made proper love to her back then, softly, awkwardly - but sweetly. Maybe he could have changed her mind on what kind of person he was. At the very least, he would have proven to her that he wasn't a complete shithead. That secretly, he had wanted her to stop looking at him so hatefully. That he respected her for how dedicated she was to her pursuit of becoming a perfect ninja, even if her body wasn't naturally aligned to such things. 

But the choices they made in the past were there to stay. The words he wanted to say to her all those years ago could never come out at the right time. And so, the loose strings between them were left untied, and when he finally saw her years later in Edo, there was a peculiar feeling that came across him. A sensation of regret had washed over him, along with a strange longing for the past whenever he would see Sarutobi Ayame. It was too late then to change anything, and he'd eventually come to see that she was eager to prostrate herself next to Gintoki - a man who, like him once, had treated her coldly without a second thought. He sensed that it was his penance for the things he'd done in the past, and in the end, it was something he could never forgive himself for.  

The lone daisy that Ayame bought from Hedoro's flower shop carried a total of twelve petals. Across her shoulder was a duffel bag with a crossbody strap, pressed against her chest so that both of her hands could carry the flower in front of her. It was an unusually frivolous thing for her to do; she wasn't particularly superstitious about such girly things. 

And yet... 

It didn't change the fact that she was nervous about who she was about to meet.

She took a deep breath, and started muttering things to herself, slightly scaring the people who passed her by as they walked on the street. 

"He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me... " 

She started plucking the petals off one by one. 

The last petal concluded with, "He loves me not."

Ayame stared at the empty stem in abject horror, and then crushed it with her fist. On further contemplation, she threw the poor flower onto the sidewalk, and then angrily stomped her foot on it for good measure. It was far too immature for someone her age to be acting that way, but regardless, she proceeded to grind her heel into the ground. 

I'm going to pretend that didn't happen, she thought savagely to herself. Delusion happened to be one of her strongest traits, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to at least give her last chance of true love a good try. 

The bag Ayame had packed on her way to the Hattori estate had been light. There wasn't much inside except for a change of clothes and the usual weapons she had on hand at all times, as she was still unsure of what would happen next. But there was a finality to her steps, a certainty that she was moving in the right direction somehow. 

Once upon a time, she had grown up in the village of Shiranui, where everyone was a ninja. Her most ardent wish as a child had been to become a shinobi, even though the color of her hair and her bad eyesight would have given everyone else pause. And yet, their opinions hadn't changed her mind; her deepest desire had only to be like everyone else, even though it was obvious to anyone that she wasn't meant to belong there.

Everyone had believed time and time again that she wasn't good enough. 

And yet, she has persisted over the years, despite the tears she had shed and the amount of self-doubt that had plagued her. And then, they disappeared to the point where she was praised by her teacher, who had been Zenzou's father - a kind man who was by all means, a whimsical sort of person who never took things too seriously. The glasses she had worn had been modified. The heights she'd reached grew higher and higher, giving her a sense of belief that she could do anything she wanted, as long as she tried hard enough. 

That belief had served her well, until the hypothesis was proven wrong in her pursuit of Gintoki. 

It turned out that trying hard was a losing game in love. 

In this case, it wasn't a matter of effort. 

All she had to do was to walk on a different path. Ayame only had to turn her head to realize what had always been there all along in her heart. 

She easily jumped across the rooftops of Edo, knowing the route to his estate by heart. It came to her just as easily as the way to Gintoki's home, which for a long time had been her residence of choice when she wasn't at her own apartment. And then, as it normally did these days, her mind turned to the man who lived in that estate. 

In some aspects she'd thought of Hattori Zenzou as a puzzle to solve, in more ways than one. His incomprehensible beliefs clashing with his sentimentality made him hard to predict. For years, she couldn't make any of the pieces fit. Some days he was almost kind to her, and some days he was cruel because that was what was expected for people who made a living out of dishonest means. There were the faint remains of the childish person he'd been in school when he insisted on playing hooky instead of paying attention in class. Then, there was the part of him that had turned into an adult faster than she could possibly keep up with. He had been the one who had shouldered the heavy burden of protecting the Shogun and everything else that came with his position as the head of the Oniwabanshu.

And finally, there was the last paradox that had thrown her for a complete loop - the secret he had kept for years in silence, until it was nigh-on unbearable to hold onto.

It was the most confusing puzzle piece of him all, that he'd seen her as worthy of his time and attention. Who saw her as someone beautiful and talented, and had wanted her by his side despite the transgression of her loving another man. In that moment where he'd proven that he'd accepted her for who she was, it was the final damnation of any romance between her and Gintoki. How was it that he, of all people, could so easily guess what was in Zenzou's heart - and not her, who had known him from the very beginning? The signs had been there all along. 

All of his cards were on the table. It was up to her now to decide what she wanted to do with them. 

Unexpectedly, the gates to his estate were open; there was no need for Ayame to use the keys he'd given her. It was as if he had expected her to come, and she wondered if he had planned it all along. You could never be that sure, especially with people like him. 

She gripped her bag tighter, and wondered if she shouldn't have come. Maybe he had changed his mind about her - that everything that had happened so far was a ruse to drop her guard so that he could make an example out of her. 

Or maybe he hadn't. 

She took a deep breath, and pushed the gate open. Her steps seemed to echo loudly around the empty estate, and she made her way uneasily towards the main room that was adjacent to the kitchen. Her hand reached for the sliding door, standing outside on the veranda, and then she heard steps nearing the room. A good ninja would always know if someone was in his house, no matter how quiet they kept to themselves, and her boss was no exception to the rule. 

Her chest started to beat even faster, and she placed her hand nervously on her heart. 

She willed herself to calm down, setting down her bag on his front porch. It wasn't her strong suit, to wait for someone to come to her. Somehow she managed, and she stood there patiently as the person on the other side slid the shoji open. 

His robe told her that he'd been out of the house recently. She remembered that blue was his favorite color; it somehow suited him, with his desire for calm and solitude. He slouched against the sliding door, tilting his head towards her. The autumn wind from outside blew in their direction, lifting his bangs slightly, revealing one of his eyes beneath his fringe. 

Her feet stood still. Her heart did not.

Zenzou's eyes slid across the room and locked onto hers.

Ah... those beautiful eyes. I want to get lost in them forever.

For a moment in time, they were quiet, soaking in the fading rays of the sun, looking at each other. They were both remembering everything in the past that had led them to the here and now. 

She stood frozen on the veranda, watching him like she might miss something if she blinked. That he would simply vanish into thin air, like he had for those two years he was away. 

Then he smiled at her.

Just a little one, reserved only for her. The corners of his mouth lifted, slow and lopsided. It was a sign of forgiveness, of absolution, and of grace.

The jolt in her heart was electric; it struck her immediately, as if a pulled string had finally gone taut. And then, the tension inside of her finally released out of sheer relief that he didn't hate her, didn't despise her despite her list of sins. Though she had initially planned to stay just as calm as he was, she couldn't sit still. She couldn't bottle all of her feelings inside of her, like he could. To try and to suppress the emotion inside of her was impossible at the moment. 

Ayame broke into a half-walk, half-run; unthinking and uncaring how fast or eager she must have looked. None of it mattered. Not when he was right there.

She fell into his arms, and he pulled her in with a gentleness that was somehow fiercer than anything else.

One arm reached around her back, the other sliding up to cradle the back of her neck as she buried her face into his shoulder, breathing him in. All the familiar things she had missed from being with him - his warmth, his scent, the sensation of his hair tickling against her skin - had come back in full force, and she wondered how she had lived so long without this, without having him by her side. All of the affection and desire surged inside of her, and she couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be. 

It was coming home after a lifetime away.

"You have no idea how long I've fantasized about this," Zenzou said, his voice low and wistful. "That it would be me instead of him in your arms..." 

He was hers - and had always been hers for the taking. 

A warmth curled into her chest, unbidden but entirely welcomed.

"If you're going to ask me to move in, at least you could have done it properly," Ayame said, not wanting to let him go. 

"I didn't think you would actually come in the first place," he replied softly. "Besides, we've done everything out of order already. What's another one to add to our list of fuck-ups?" 

"I thought you couldn't stand me being here," she retorted, but her voice had lost the sting that it normally held for him. There wasn't any way she could hate him now. Even back when she couldn't understand his way of thinking, there had been a sense of loyalty to him that she could never entirely shake off. She retreated slightly, but his arms were still loosely attached to her waist. 

"There are a lot of things that I once held to be true that aren't that way anymore," he said, his shoulder shrugging slightly. "Obviously things have changed, you included."

"But why me?" she asked. "Of all the people in this world... " It still didn't make any sense to her. No matter how much she thought about his words at night, no matter how she knew he wouldn't have confessed his feelings if they weren't true, some of it had felt like she had dreamed the whole conversation. 

It was slightly melodramatic, but Gintoki's final rejection had resulted in a self-introspection that had forced herself to confront things she had ignored for years. What had been glaringly true was that she had been awful to her boss after all those years of estrangement. He'd been annoying in his own way, too, but it was not even comparable to the level of ordeal that she'd put him in. 

He chuckled, placing his palm against her jawline. "Why not you? You're beautiful, you're funny, you're incredibly loyal, and you don't have a problem with me being an assassin. Your strangeness compliments my neuroticism. You're the only woman I know who has the strength and will to stand up to me. Not to mention, how incredibly sexy you are under and on top of me. Was it any surprise that I was unable to resist you, after all those years of fighting with you?"

 "I thought you only liked me for the sex," she asked, flustered. She was unused to this part of him that had dropped all pretenses of becoming a cool, unbothered ninja. He had turned to sincerity - and she couldn't quite adjust to it yet. Everything about him felt new and unfamiliar, and though she was happy with the changes - she wondered if this was going to last. If they were going to last. 

"I thought I did, in the beginning," he conceded. "But I was wrong, even back then. I want your mind. I like the way you see things differently than I do, even if it annoys the shit out of me. I'm not here just for your amazing rack, although that helps too." 

Her cheeks turned hot. "Zenzou!" 

He grinned. "Hey, are you finally turning tsundere on me? Now's not the time for that. We're too late in the day for that kind of denial, you know... " 

He finally lifted her chin, and then kissed her like he hadn't seen her in years. Not just weeks. The slow, deliberate press of his mouth against hers caused a sharp twist of heat and comfort, running through her body all at once.

This wasn't the kind of kiss you gave someone you were trying to impress.

It was the kind of kiss you gave someone you already knew in every way possible.

She kissed him like she understood every part of him, good and bad. Because she did. And he did, too. He had long accepted her flaws because he could see what was lying underneath them. 

They kissed like they had all the time in the world. Because for now - however long they would last - neither of them intended to leave for the night after the deed was done. 

The next part was all too familiar to them. Ayame clung to him greedily, drinking him in, and letting him press his teeth against her lips and tongue. 

His hands weren't idle. One tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head to deepen the angle. The other slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, his grip firm, almost rough. It was a touch that spoke of a long-suppressed desire finally unleashed, and it made her knees weak. 

She couldn't believe how much more she wanted him, even though they'd done this before. It was hard for her to understand at first why she had wanted him so badly in the first place, and now she realized it was because she had subconsciously realized that he had wanted her back. 

In her own way, she'd chosen him first without being aware of it. She had picked him the day he almost died on the ships, even though Gintoki was next to her. She fled to him, because she knew with certainty that he would die if she didn't, and the thought of it had been unbearable. Then there was the day he'd left Edo, and she'd caught him on the way out, wanting him to tell her he'd come back without understanding why. And then, during those two lonely years when he was away, his last words to her lingered in her mind far longer than the thought of Gintoki's departure. 

"Sarutobi. Do you think you're the type who'll just sit quietly when they're told to wait for someone?"

As it turned out, she wasn't. He had always known what kind of person she was, and regardless, he himself - whether he was aware of it or not - had waited for her to come back to him. 

Her lover made quick work of her kimono, the obi untied and forgotten. She'd worn a blue set of lingerie underneath, just for him - but it hardly seemed to matter right now. Not when he was far more interested in the way she looked without it. His calloused palms skimmed up her ribs, brushing the sides of her breasts through her lace bra, and she arched into the contact, a silent plea for more.

He obliged. He unhooked the bra with a deft flick of his fingers, and his breath hitched as he looked at her.

He dipped his head, his mouth closing around one taut peak. The sensation was blinding—the hot, wet suction, the skillful flick of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth. He was well accustomed to her body, and had remembered all of her favored spots. A ragged moan was torn from her lips, her head falling back against the pillow with a soft thud. Her hands came up, clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into the hard muscle there. Yes. More. Please don't stop.

His fingers made their way down there, pressing against her bundle of nerves. Her back arched. It didn't take long before she came, because he knew exactly where to apply pressure on her and when to let go. There had been enough hands-on practice for him to get it right the first time it mattered. 

Her release gave her the courage to admit what she had known all along. 

She caught his face in her hands, and breathlessly whispered, "I love you."

He froze, hovering over her. His eyes were the color of a turbulent storm. He swallowed, and then said hoarsely, "Say it again." 

She obeyed. "I love you." 

"Again." 

She would say it as many times as he needed to hear it. "I love you." 

Those three words could not possibly convey how much he meant to her, but it was a good start. 

Her love for him sprawled deeper than she had initially realized. They had changed through the years, but the fundamentals - the history, their connection to each other, and the things they had valued - had not. With maturity and time, she had come to realize that he was the only one for her.  

He kissed her fiercely, telling her he loved her too in the way he pressed her lips against hers; in the manner his tongue slipped against the pulse point under her jaw; with the desperate way he tangled his fingers.

She didn't need him to verbally remind her that she was his. His touch was enough for her. 

He guided himself to her entrance, and with one powerful, relentless thrust, he was inside her. She felt so incredibly full. A sharp cry emanated from her lungs, her inner muscles clenching around him in exquisite pleasure.

He stilled, buried to the hilt, his body trembling with the effort. "Is this okay?" he gritted out, his voice strained.

"Yes," she gasped, pushing her hips back against him.

It was standard missionary. For now, there weren't any bondage games, no changing positions a dozen times, no extra props used between them because they hadn't planned on being together tonight. And yet, it was the best sex she ever had, if only it was because she was secure in the knowledge that it was borne out of love and not just gratification. Every touch and caress burned even hotter against her skin, promising something eternal in between. 

As soon as he was close to coming, his hand slipped around from her stomach, his fingers finding the swollen, sensitive nub between her legs. The dual sensation was too much, first it was not enough, and then it became everything. The coil of pleasure in her core wound tighter and tighter, like a spring about to snap.

The scent of her arousal filled the room, her desire so overwhelmingly obvious that he cried out her given name, as if he couldn't believe that she was this wet for him. At the sound of his voice, her climax ripped through her; a silent, seismic wave of pure ecstasy that clenched every muscle in her body, milking him and pulling a deep, groan from his chest. A moment later, he followed her footsteps, spilling himself inside her with a final, shuddering thrust.

They slumped against each other; it was a tangled, sweaty mess and his body was heavy, totally spent on top of hers. The only sound for a hot minute was their harsh, gradually slowing breaths. He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. 

When her body finally cooled, she gently pushed him off. He acquiesced by rolling next to her.

She could never remain quiet for long. "We should have done this years ago." 

"The sex would have been dog shit back then, and you know that." His expression was softer now, the fierce hunger replaced by a dazed, sated wonder. He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline, and she leaned into his touch. "Better late than never, I'd say." 

"True. But still. We could have learned together." 

"I'm still learning. For example, I'll bet you three hundred yen right now that you have some godforsaken sex object inside that bag you brought that you can only order online, much less picking it up from a sex store." 

Ayame huffed. "I only bought some of my spare handcuffs! That's not even all that kinky." 

He laughed affectionately. "You are the only girl in this universe who thinks handcuffs aren't kinky enough." 

Their hands were still clasped together, their fingers interlacing with the other like a spiderweb. He was stroking her hair with his other hand, and the mesmeric repetition of it was making her sleepy. 

She yawned. "Still. I bet you'd like to put them on me, wouldn't you?" Their sexual compatibility was still unparalleled. 

"I would," he admitted, and that was enough for her to happily snuggle next to his chest, breathing in the smell of his cooling sweat. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she confirmed, and closed her eyes. She knew that when the morning came, he would still be there, lying next to her, and that was enough to look forward to the future. 

The streets of Yoshiwara looked different in the late afternoon. Ayame had finally finished moving the rest of her things from her apartment into her boyfriend's house, and the constant reshuffling of carrying luggage back and forth was enough for her to go mad. He had suggested she see her friends to take a momentary break, and that had given her the bright idea for her to drag him out of the estate as well. 

"It's only been a week," he protested, but she insisted on introducing him to at least one of them. And naturally, she couldn't resist paying a visit to the sex shops. 

She'd been contemplating a new purchase of a wooden paddle, when a familiar waft of smoke passed her by. She turned her head, and saw the Courtesan of Death looking fondly at her. As always, she was on patrol. 

"Tsukki!" she cried out, putting the merchandise back into its proper place. "I knew I'd see you around here!" 

The woman smiled. "Sacchan. I haven't seen you in a while. You look... better." 

"Ah, that's because I've been busy! Here, come meet my boyfriend. He usually prefers to stay indoors during the daytime, but I managed to finally get him out of his house for once." She grabbed Zenzou's hand, and dragged him towards the courtesan. "Hey, Zenzou! Come meet my best friend!" 

There was a pause as Tsukuyo, who never forgot a face once they stepped foot into Yoshiwara, recognized him. "Ah. We've met before, haven't we?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly raised. 

He nodded in confirmation. 

"Ehhhh?" Now Ayame was the one who was surprised. "When did this happen?" 

"It was a long time ago," Tsukuyo said. "I remember you used ta keep the fuglies club in business. They were very sorry to lose their biggest patron before it finally closed down," she hastily added, once she saw Ayame glaring at him. 

"A true loss," Zenzou agreed somberly, skillfully ignoring his girlfriend's attempt to step on his toes. "It was an institution around these parts of town." 

Ayame huffed, her hands placed on her waist. "Well, anyways! I was looking forward to introducing you two, but apparently this world is smaller than I thought! I wouldn't have imagined in a million years that my boss had already gotten to know one of my girlfriends!" 

Tsukuyo took another puff of her kiseru, chuckling as she exhaled, and then lowered her pipe. "Are you sure about being with her?" she asked, concern furrowed across her eyebrow. "She can be... a lot to handle." 

"Tsukki! How can you say that in front of him?" Ayame complained, even though she knew that the courtesan was telling him nothing but the truth. "And here I thought you'd be grateful that I took myself out of the competition for Gin-san's love!" 

Zenzou smiled, not taking any offense at all. "I've enjoyed taking on different challenges all my life. Thank you for keeping her company while I was away from Edo." 

"Hey! You're not supposed to agree with her!" 

"Happiness suits her," Tsukuyo said, and now there was a soft smile on her face. It was one that Ayame had rarely seen except for the few times that she bestowed upon Gintoki when she thought no one else was looking at her. "You must have worked very hard to win her over, haven't you?" 

Zenzou's expression was surprisingly sincere when he answered her question. "I would say that she worked far harder than I ever did when it came to these silly games we humans call love. But perhaps you could take a leaf from her book. After all, that guy thought you were special, too. If you remember what I said all those chapters ago, he knew as much as I did that you were one hell of a student." 

"Hey, what are you going on about?" Ayame demanded, seeing Tsukuyo turning slightly pink. "What do you mean by that, Zenzou? Are you telling her something you're not telling me?" 

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he replied cheekily, and turned away from the two of them. "I'll let you ladies chat," he said, walking away from the stall, making his way down to the shop next door. 

Ayame furiously whirled back to her friend. "Hey, was he talking about Gin-san? He was, wasn't he? How would he know anything about that?" 

"I wouldn't know," Tsukuyo said evasively, but the way her eyes lowered made Ayame think she was right on the money. "He does remind me of Gintoki, though." 

That observation surprised her so much that she immediately forgot about Zenzou's enigmatic words. 

"What are you talking about?" Ayame laughed. "He's nothing like Gin-san. He's a hell of a lot more annoying and pedantic. The only thing they have in common is that they read Shonen Jump! They're two totally different people. Zenzou's rich, but the other's poor. He's a shinobi, and Gin-san is a samurai. And you know what else? My boss is a clean freak, and Gin-san never does the cleaning at his apartment - it's Shinpachi who does all of it! Not to mention, they both look completely different from each other!" 

"I suppose you're right," Tsukuyo allowed. "I guess it's his way of talking. It's deceptively simple, isn't it? The way he hides the true meanin' behind the words that come outta his mouth... It's very much the same way how Gintoki talks." 

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Ayame scoffed. "If anything, he's way too honest with me. I've learned way too much about the difference between suppositories and hemorrhoid creams since I've been with him. And it's only been a damn week!" 

Despite her dignified nature, Tsukuyo couldn't help but to laugh. "If I had to guess why, it's because you're one of the few people he can feel comfortable around," the courtesan mused, used to analyzing people on a surface level. She then smiled benevolently at Ayame, and somehow, she felt as if the moon goddess was blessing her. "Either way, I'm really happy for you, Sacchan." 

A recollection of words from the last month came back to Ayame's mind, unbidden. There was no particular reason for it. But as selfish and self-centered she could be, Ayame could also be generous in her love and affection - both romantically and platonically. It would be returned doublefold if she felt the other person had been kind to her. 

Some people aren't s'posed to be with anyone. Why is it surprisin' that I'd be alone at the end?

I've always been alone. I don't think that'll ever change.

It took her a minute to realize that two people had essentially told her the same thing in different words. Perhaps it was her time to give Tsukuyo advice, too. 

"You could have something like that, too," she replied. "I wasn't kidding back then, you know. When I said you ought to die between Gin-san's legs, right when we were out there, trying to save the world, I meant every word."

"Like I keep tellin' ya over and over again! I don't like him that way!" 

"That's how he and I started out, too," Ayame said mischievously, lowering her voice so he wouldn't hear. "Now, of course, it makes for incredible sex, with all that denial and pent-up frustration, not to mention the jealousy involved -- " 

For a woman who worked her entire life in Yoshiwara, Tsukuyo was blushing far more than one would expect. "Sacchan!! I didn't ask!" 

She continued speaking as if Tsukuyo hadn't interrupted her. " -- But Gin-san's the type to marry someone before doing that kind of thing, so maybe it's best if you confess your feelings first so you can get that pesky obstacle out of the way. After all, who knows? You just might find the love of your life if you tried a different approach than the one you normally do." 

Tsukuyo looked like she was caught between laughing and frowning. "I'll take your word for it, even though I keep tellin' you again and again that I don't like him. Anyways, I have to go. I'm still patrolling." 

The blonde waved her goodbye, as she strode away from Ayame. It didn't take long before she disappeared into the crowd of Yoshiwara, where others were in their pursuit of pleasure for the night to come. 

And then it was her turn to find him. She walked in the opposite direction, and saw him reading his copy of Shonen Jump, his back leaning against a hidden wall. Apparently everything else in the red light district was boring him - the pretty girls behind windows, the lurid displays in neon lights, and even the shelves of porn wasn't titillating enough for him to tear him away from that silly comic book of his. 

But as she approached him, he put it down for her. 

"That was quick," he commented, slipping his copy under his robe. "She must have been busy." 

"She's always busy," Ayame sighed. "But if I was a betting girl, she's the woman that Gin-san is going to marry someday. That is, if he ever gets his head on straight." 

"And does that bother you?" he asked, his smile slightly crooked. 

She hooked her arm around his elbow. "No, don't be silly," she said, and they continued roaming the streets of the red light district. "After all, I've got everything I need," she declared, and they kept striding on, towards some undefined place as the sun set.   

the end