Chapter 17: Silver Soul (Era of Expulsion)

Victory sent the new recruits into a frenzy of joy, and even the seasoned soldiers were in high spirits. Yet they knew triumph could never last forever, so the old hands warned the newcomers not to become too arrogant. Chastened, the new recruits reined in their exuberance.

Sure enough, in the days that followed, the Amanto launched a ferocious counterattack. There was but one cause: High Commander Gornvana, the youngest son of Marshal Shu Wei of the Star Guard, had been captured by Takasugi. The Marshal was furious—absolutely, incandescently furious.

The alien, Gornvana, with his husky-like canine face, was now locked in a cage. He had howled through the night, driving everyone to madness. In the end, Gintoki could bear it no longer, went out, and knocked him out cold with a sharp blow to the nape. Everyone thanked Gintoki; at last, they could get a good night’s sleep.

After many battles, Takeichi Okakura’s once fervent heart still burned with zeal, but now it was filled more with reflections on death. Too many people had been lost; too many comrades had departed. Was the price they paid truly worth it?

What Takeichi never expected was to make a name for herself on the battlefield. Among the Amanto, her reputation was especially notorious—they called her the “Oni with the Blue Face.” The “Oni with the Blue Face” was tiny in stature, frightful in appearance, her very presence enough to startle gods and devils alike. Her left hand wielded a spiked club to crush skulls, her right hand a long sword to pierce bellies. In short, anyone facing this demon should avert their gaze, for to look her in the face was to lose the will to fight.

When Takeichi heard her nickname among the Amanto, she nearly coughed up blood. What a ridiculous title! How much better it would be to have a cool nickname like “White Demon” or “Mad Nobleman.”

Unpleasant as the moniker was, Takeichi’s standing rose. She was promoted from an ordinary soldier to a squad leader, now with subordinates of her own—including the loud-mouthed Ando, who was finally under her command. She was pleased to be able to order him to keep quiet for once.

The battles came ever more frequently, and everyone was exhausted. Takeichi, wrapped in a tattered, blood- and dust-stained greatcoat, leaned against the wall to rest. Only last night she and a squad had raided the Amanto embassy; now, she was utterly spent. She had arrived in Edo.

Edo, now the new political center of Japan, was the site of the nation’s tallest building—the Flight Terminal. Its shape, a massive cylinder, was reminiscent of the Trap Tower from “Hunter x Hunter.” Located in central Edo, its principal function was to connect the Amanto and Earth; it had brought countless aliens to the planet. The loyalists loathed the building with a passion (just look at how enthusiastically Katsura would bomb it years later).

Because the capture of Gornvana had incensed Marshal Shu Wei, Takasugi dispatched a portion of the loyalist army to Edo. Their objective: to raid the Amanto embassy and assassinate high-ranking officials of the shogunate. Takeichi was among those chosen for the mission.

Takeichi found Edo a fascinating place, where alien technology and ancient traditions blended seamlessly—a curious, subtle mixture, much like the cropped kimonos favored by street girls, fresh and novel in its own right.

She wrapped her coat tighter and sighed. These covert raids and assassinations taxed her more than open battle. Suddenly, a commotion caught her ear. Normally listless, the men were now gathered, faces flushed, excitedly discussing something. Even Captain Kumamoto crouched among them, visibly intrigued.

Takeichi approached and saw a small booklet in the midst of the group, its pages filled with portraits of exquisitely made-up, gorgeously attired women. “What are you looking at?” she asked.

“Ah, Takeichi, come and broaden your horizons,” said a middle-aged man, grabbing her and pulling her into the group.

“Look here. The most famous beauties of Kabukicho are all listed in this book,” he said, tapping the cover with relish.

“This Sayako is truly stunning—such a generous bust and such a dainty face,” a young man leered.

Takeichi flipped through the book. Every page was filled with beautiful women of every style—vivid and seductive, pure and charming, noble and dignified, serene and ethereal. Even Takeichi, herself a woman, was entranced, though she felt none of them could compare to her mother. Still, they were certainly more beautiful than the women she’d seen in her hometown or the streets of Kyoto and Edo.

In Takeichi’s heart, her mother was the most beautiful of all—long, jet-black hair falling past her arms, a face untouched by makeup yet white and smooth, large almond eyes, delicately arched brows, and a rosy, diamond-shaped mouth that would gently kiss her cheek. Her mother’s gentle beauty and understanding nature made her the very embodiment of femininity in Takeichi’s eyes.

“These women are lovely. What kind of place is Kabukicho? Why are there so many beauties?” Takeichi asked.

“You really are inexperienced,” the uncle said with a sigh. “Kabukicho is where you find beautiful women, fine wine, and delicious food. Of course, men mostly go for the women. It’s a den of vice, full of all sorts, a lawless district. But the number of beauties there rivals Yoshiwara.”

“I hope I’m picked for tomorrow night’s assassination operation,” another man said with a lecherous grin. “For the first time, I really want to join a mission.”

“Wait, tomorrow’s assignment is in Kabukicho?” Takeichi asked.

“That’s right. We’re to assassinate Matsudaira Katakuriko. Our intelligence says he likes to frequent nightclubs and bars. Hmph, those fat-cat officials of the shogunate—he’ll be at a Kabukicho tavern tomorrow night. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“The God of Destruction, Matsudaira Katakuriko?” Takeichi murmured. She’d heard the veterans speak of him.

Matsudaira Katakuriko, former Kyoto Guardian, was in charge of public order in Kyoto but now oversaw Edo as well. He was the city’s protector and the shogun’s most trusted confidant, as close to the shogun as a son. Loyalists had long regarded him as a thorn in their side and attempted to assassinate him many times, all without success. He was ruthless, willing to destroy everything for victory, even if he alone remained standing.

“Exactly. He’s not easy to deal with,” the middle-aged man mused. “Nor are the beauties of Kabukicho, for that matter.”

“You’re hopeless!” Takeichi said, exasperated.

But her exasperation was only just beginning. Governor Takasugi announced that several slender, small-boned soldiers would be selected to infiltrate Yoshiwara disguised as women. Takeichi, slight and petite, was chosen, along with her acquaintance Ando.

“Why me? I don’t want to dress up as a woman!” Ando wailed, clutching at Takeichi’s sleeve.

“Nor do I, but do you dare tell Governor Takasugi you refuse?” Takeichi brushed his hand away.

Ando gulped and lowered his head. “No…”

Takeichi didn’t dare, either. She had no desire to impersonate a woman, fearing her real gender might be exposed, but the thought of facing Takasugi’s expression stiffened her resolve.

At sunset, Takeichi sat stiffly on a sofa, dressed in an elaborate kimono. At noon, Ando had clung to her, insisting he didn’t want to dress as a woman, but now he was beaming in women’s clothes, flirting with an uncle, playing the coquettish maiden to perfection. Takeichi felt something in Ando had awakened…

“My, why so silent, miss? You look so adorable when you’re shy.” A drunken hand landed on Takeichi’s shoulder. She turned to see a bespectacled, inebriated uncle.

It was the first time anyone besides her parents had called her cute. Why now? Because she wore a heavy geisha’s makeup—her skin already deathly pale, her eyes large and enhanced with colored lenses—after a thorough makeover, she was stunning enough to shock even the soldiers who’d fought at her side. Captain Kumamoto had even stuffed two buns into her chest to complete the look; Takeichi had dearly wanted to shove them in his eyes.

But seeing the drunken uncle, Takeichi’s eyes lit up—it was Matsudaira Katakuriko!

“Why so quiet? Come, keep your uncle company,” he said, settling beside her and leaning in close. Takeichi, unaccustomed to such situations, was covered in goosebumps.

“Sir, how about Meiko instead? She’s quite lovely too,” Ando interjected with a sweet smile, stepping in as Takeichi froze. Takeichi inwardly gave him a thumbs up—well done, Ando!

“Haha, you’re both delightful. I like you both!” Matsudaira Katakuriko laughed, hugging Takeichi with one arm and Ando with the other, grinning broadly.

“Uncle, I’ve never tasted Dom Pérignon before. May I try some?” Ando, having fully embraced his role, tugged at Matsudaira’s sleeve and pouted, making the older man beam.

“Of course, drink as much as you like, it’s on me!” Matsudaira said grandly.

“You’re so generous, uncle! Table 34, bring ten bottles of Dom Pérignon!” Ando cheered.

The whole table erupted. Dom Pérignon was a luxury French champagne, leagues above the cheap spirits the soldiers were used to; none had ever seen such extravagance. Ten bottles at once—it was bliss!

Hey, are you all being bribed by the enemy? Takeichi couldn’t help but grumble internally at their excitement.

While she wrestled with her conflicted feelings, the ten bottles arrived. The amber liquid, the effervescent foam overflowing from the opened bottles—it made everyone swallow hard. Even Takeichi found herself salivating; it looked delicious.

“Drink up, everyone! If it’s not enough, I’ll order more!” Matsudaira declared, slamming a thick wad of bills on the table with swagger.

“You’re so generous, uncle!” the group chorused, fawning over him.

What about the assassination? The mission? How could they sit drinking so merrily with Matsudaira Katakuriko, their sworn enemy, right under Takasugi’s watchful eye at the next table?

Takeichi didn’t dare look over to see the governor’s expression…