Chapter 20: Silver Soul (Era of Expulsion)

Before the arrival of the Celestials in this ancient nation, the people here understood war only as battles fought on land and sea. The sky—vast and sapphire—remained a mysterious, beautiful realm, far beyond their reach. They imagined gods dwelling ten thousand meters above, able to see all, living in palatial abodes, adorned in splendid attire, mighty and noble, watching over them from the heavens. Yet, while they basked in such fantasies, strange iron objects descended from the sky—not beautiful deities, but peculiar visitors from space: the Celestials.

The technology they brought exceeded Earth’s own by centuries, especially the iron machines that soared through the skies, which fascinated humanity. But these vehicles served not only to carry people aloft on journeys; they were also instruments of war.

The Rebellion War—an uneven contest. The Celestials boasted weapons on land, sea, and air far superior to those of the rebel forces. At sea, they had aircraft carriers; on land, tanks; in the air, fighter jets. What did the rebels have in the past?

At sea, mere warships, powerless before carriers. On land, cavalry, infantry, firearms, all crushed by tanks. In the air? Nothing at all.

But that was the past. After twenty years of war, Earth’s people had fought countless battles, large and small, against the Celestials. Fast learners, they had already mastered at least a third of Celestial technology. It is said that nothing determines the outcome of war so decisively as even the slightest difference in weaponry between two sides.

Now, the rebels possessed some advanced weapons—some purchased at great expense from the black markets. This must be credited to Tatsu Sakamoto, whose carefree laughter belied his status as a wealthy heir. While still among the rebels, he supplied them with vast amounts of arms and funds. At heart a businessman, his eloquence could make worthless objects sound priceless, and his silver tongue brought the rebels countless advantages.

Some weapons came from another source: spoils seized from the Celestials after victorious battles—a method that cost lives, not money, but yielded far greater joy than anything bought. In their last campaign, the rebels captured Gorn Warner, the son of Marshal Starfort, and took his stronghold, seizing their weapons and gaining a brief advantage—though it did not last.

Winter was ending; the snow was thinning. Aircraft grounded by weather now took flight. With the Celestials attacking by land, sea, and air, the rebels were beset on all sides and plunged into crisis.

“Kousugi, what exactly are you planning?” In the dim candlelight, Katsura fixed his intense gaze on Kousugi.

“Wig, you’re too serious. This is a risky move, but also a clever one. Since we’re already at rock bottom, we need to try more strategies,” said Kousugi, seated at the table, reviewing documents.

“Not ‘wig,’ it’s Katsura.” After correcting him, Katsura turned to Gintoki, who was lounging nearby. “Gintoki, say something to him.”

“Huh?” Gintoki, drooling, woke groggily.

“Gintoki, don’t always fall asleep at critical moments. Be a little more serious. Without seriousness, you’ll never survive in this society,” Katsura’s voice rose, almost shrill.

“Are you my mother, Wig? Stop nagging.” Gintoki picked his nose.

“Not ‘wig,’ it’s Katsura. Honestly, you two with your attitudes are really infuriating…” Katsura began to rant again.

“Wig, have you fallen for that husky outside? He looks like a dog, but he’s not an Earth breed.” Gintoki stared with dead fish eyes.

“What do you mean ‘fallen for’? Gintoki, don’t say such things.” Katsura was frantic.

“I see you tease him every day, Wig. Aren’t you obsessed with paw pads? Did you seize the chance to touch his little hands?”

“Not ‘wig,’ it’s Katsura. I only visit Gorn Warner lately because I have no paw pads to touch. Real paw pads are much cuter than him.”

“Instead of bickering here, you two should just go to bed,” Kousugi glanced at them coldly.

Katsura snapped back to reality; he’d meant to discuss the current situation with Kousugi, but Gintoki had derailed the conversation.

“Kousugi, about what we were discussing…” Katsura began, but Kousugi cut him off.

“I intend to use Gorn Warner as a hostage to negotiate with Marshal Starfort.”

“What kind of negotiation?” Katsura asked.

“The Shogunate and the Celestials made a deal, spending vast sums to buy their latest weapons. In this situation, I need to reduce their allies.”

“Kousugi, what if the hostage is useless?” Gintoki suddenly interjected.

“Gintoki, we’re already at a disadvantage. Even without a hostage, we’re still a thorn in the eyes of the Celestials and the Shogunate. I’m merely shaving a bit off their advantage. The fight won’t stop.”

Gintoki fell silent, gazing at the shadowed eyes of Kousugi. After a moment, he stood and said, “I’m going to bed.”

“Gintoki…” Katsura watched his retreating figure, wanted to speak, but finally closed his mouth.

--------------------------------------------------

Night deepened. Outside, all was quiet; inside, shadows flickered, oil lamps still burning. Everyone was asleep, the room filled with breath, snores, teeth grinding, sleep talk. Okakura Take was woken by a kick from the uncle next door, opened her eyes to see him clutching his chest and grinning oddly, his sleeping posture twisted absurdly. Three black lines streaked across Okakura Take’s forehead.

After being kicked awake, Okakura Take felt an urgent need to relieve herself. She got up, cloaked herself, and went out. She noticed the adjacent bed was still empty—Gintoki hadn’t returned.

Scratching her head, Okakura Take thought Gintoki must still be discussing matters with the leaders, but she didn’t worry.

Stepping out into the cold night air made Okakura Take more alert. There was neither moon nor stars; the sky was pitch black. But as she passed by the roof, she looked up and spotted a conspicuous mop of curly white hair—only Sakata Gintoki had that color.

What was he doing up there in the middle of the night instead of sleeping? Curious, Okakura Take quietly climbed onto the roof.

Intending to greet Gintoki, she found him turning toward her as soon as he heard her approach. After three seconds of silence, Sakata Gintoki screamed and leapt up.

“Ahhhhhhh!” He sat at the front edge of the roof, and as he stood, he tipped backward, nearly falling. Okakura Take rushed over, grabbed his hand, and pulled him back with all her strength, causing Gintoki to tumble into her embrace.

Okakura Take was nearly suffocated by Gintoki’s large head. She reached out and pushed him. “Gin-san, get up, I can’t breathe.”

Gintoki struggled to rise, then looked awkwardly at Okakura Take’s… chest. The impact had revealed the subtle curve—definitely not the chest of a boy!

Okakura Take’s hair stood on end under his gaze. She suddenly realized she’d forgotten to bind her chest with books. Did he guess she was a girl? The thought unsettled her completely; she wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.

“You… are a girl!” Gintoki’s statement was absolute, without a hint of doubt.

Discovered! Okakura Take bitterly regretted climbing up to see Sakata Gintoki. There was no turning back; she could only muddle through this. She didn’t want to leave the rebel ranks.

“Yes, I am a girl. I hid my gender from the start to search for my father,” Okakura Take admitted, biting her lip.

“Now you know your father’s whereabouts, why not leave? A girl on a battlefield full of men is unsafe!” Gintoki said sternly, and Okakura Take was stunned—she’d never seen him so strict.

“I won’t!” Okakura Take said. “I won’t leave the team. My strength isn’t less than any man’s, and I can fight too!”

“It’s not the same. You should stay safely in the rear; the battlefield is no place for you!” Gintoki’s tone was unyielding.

Hearing this, Okakura Take felt deeply aggrieved. She lifted her head and looked intently into Gintoki’s eyes. “You’re underestimating me!”

Gintoki was taken aback. Why wouldn’t this child listen? In his mind, Okakura Take was young—a girl who shouldn’t be exposed to so much violence and killing. At her age, she ought to be wearing a school uniform, playing and laughing in school.

He looked at her quietly. “Take, the battlefield is dangerous. Why do you insist on being here?”

Okakura Take didn’t shrink back. She met Gintoki’s gaze and said, “I can realize my worth here. I love fighting side by side with everyone. Gin-san, please, don’t tell anyone I’m a girl. I don’t want to leave the rebels, I don’t want to leave…” Her voice broke, and she began to cry. It was the first time she’d cried since joining.

Watching the sobbing girl before him, Sakata Gintoki sighed helplessly, ruffling his curly hair. He really couldn’t bear to see girls cry.

“Don’t cry…” Gintoki placed his hand gently on her hair, ruffling it. “I won’t say anything. Don’t cry.”

“Really?” Okakura Take looked at him with tearful eyes. Gintoki noticed her pupils seemed larger than before—on closer inspection, much larger.

“Really. Sigh…” Gintoki sighed again. “I won’t tell anyone, but you should still be careful. If possible, transfer to logistics. I truly don’t want someone so young to be on the battlefield.”

“Thank you, Gin-san.” Okakura Take threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Gin-san’s expression grew complicated. She’d hugged him before, and he’d thought nothing of it when he believed her a boy. Now, knowing she was a girl, being embraced like this, his ears reddened.

“Alright, go to bed. There’s training tomorrow morning,” Gintoki said, turning his head and pretending not to care.

“Yes, Gin-san.” Okakura Take replied cheerfully, quickly climbed down, and returned to the house. Gintoki followed her back.

That night, the two slept apart as usual. Luckily, the weather had warmed. Gradually, Okakura Take and Sakata Gintoki drifted into dreams.