Gintama: Year 3 Class Z, Ginpachi Sensei, Lesson 4

Lesson 4: You’re All Like “Cultural Festivals are So Boring,” But Actually, You Really Enjoy Them, Don’t You?

We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success

Samuel Smiles

We learn wisdom from—no, with time and patience… Not that, Happiness does not depend on outward things—

Okita Sougo

Come back when you’ve got your own quote!

Shinpachi Shimura

Keep on buying Gintama volumes, okay? Peace.

Ginpachi Sakata

*

It was a fine day of weather outside, the sky like a clear blue canvas with little clouds dotted here and there as if by a brush. It was the sort of fine weather that would make a Japanese to English translator remark “Hey, did you know the Japanese word for fine weather is seiten (晴天), but if you switch those characters around, it’s read as appare (天晴) instead of tensei? Pretty fine fact if you ask me. Just like this weather!”

But getting back on topic, taking place under such blue, blue skies was the Gintama High School cultural festival. On the main gate was a billboard with paper roses decorated on its edges, giving the festival a charming, hand-made feel about it. A place usually filled with students and teachers was now packed with parents and relatives. The commotion of those attending and the teachers and students welcoming said attendees encapsulated the whole school, just like a cultural festival should. But in this textbook scene, there was a suspicious looking man around his late twenties. He sported a dark blue cap obscuring his eyes along with a light blue jumper.

Although there was nothing particularly suspicious about his attire, the same couldn’t be said for the look on his face, what with his half-closed eyes projecting a muted energy. Standing under the main gate, he stared intently at the billboard,

“So, this is the Gintama High School cultural festival…” the man muttered with a slightly slanted sneer. “…Time to bring it crashing down.”

*

Walking down one of the corridors was Gintama High School’s Headmaster, with the somehow always grumpy looking Vice-Head by his side, nestling a copy of Young Jump in his armpit. He couldn’t help but notice the students next to him who were loudly chatting away while frantically going back and forth through the corridors. “It’s only when cultural festival day comes around that you’ll ever see them this lively.”

“Well it only comes round once a year. Also, you’ve got Young Jump with you again, haven’t you? Could you lend me your Weekly one then?” just as the Headmaster said this, he spotted another large group of male students running around. “Come on, no running in the corridor now, remember?” he gently warned to the students with a smile. The vice head was taken aback,

“Well hello? Aren’t you being a kind one today, Headmaster? Normally, you’d be going through the roof if you saw that.”

“No no, I’m not particularly bothered by students running in the corridor. You see…” said the Headmaster now whispering, “to tell you the truth, it’s days like these that are just perfect for showing off my softer side and upping my popularity. Nothing to lose from it, is there?”

“Oh I see now. Still putting your—wait, I mean, still putting others first, I see.”

“At least try cutting yourself off before it’s obvious what you mean,” the pair continued to chat like this as they progressed through the corridors. Before long, they found themselves near the third year classrooms.

“Okey dokey,” said the Headmaster. “Let’s go have a look at the third year exhibits.”

“Sure thing,” the pair then started their tour of the exhibits in alphabetical order.

First up was Class 3A who had created a giant portrait of the Mona Lisa with postage stamps. The parents and guardians who had come to observe the exhibit were rightly impressed and proud of their children, giving out remarks such as “This is so well done” and “It sure is.” But along with those comments,

“Rather conventional, really. It’s just like that other painting I once saw somewhere,” muttered the Headmaster.

“Uh, Headmaster. You’re talking pretty loud for a mutter. Be more sensitive,” chided the Vice-Head.

Next up was 3B who had put up a report on the wall titled, “A walk through Kabukicho.” It contained an extensive write-up of the district’s history and incidents that took place in Gintama High School at different times in the past among others.

“Rather plain, really. I mean, this is the sort of thing you’d see at the ward or municipal offices, surely?”

“Headmaster, seriously. Those students’ parents came here to see their hard work. Read the room, not just the wall.”

The duo then moved on to 3C who had opened up a café booth. Peeking inside from the hallway, the Headmaster remarked “Rather like playing house, really. I’ll pass on getting food poisoning, thank you.”

“So this is your softer side, is it?”

Upon entering 3D, a tour de force replica of Tokyo Tower made out of chopsticks was on display, its height extending all the way to the classroom ceiling. Along with the parents gazing in amazement, the Headmaster remarked,

“The moment it tumbles over, it’ll become plain old rubbish, really. I mean, the pyromaniac in me just wants to see it go up in flames,” the Vice-Head had had it with the Headmaster’s harsh comments.

“Don’t you have anything nice to say?!” said the Vice-Head who in his rage knocked over the chopstick Tokyo Tower. “This level of handicraft is incredible for an exhibit done by a bunch of brats, isn’t?”

“And you’re supposed to be the nice one? I mean, look. You’ve just proven my point.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it, and you know it!” raged the Vice-Head as the blood in his aging body boiled and his neck bent menacingly.

“Anyway! Make sure you say nice, constructive things about the exhibits! Like you would to a newbie novelist.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be more considerate,” grumbled the Headmaster who exited the classroom, leaving behind the devastated sobbing students to gather up the pieces of their fallen masterpiece. The duo had moved on to 3Z. “You know,” said the Headmaster, “you can tell me to be nice about these exhibits all you want—” the duo had found themselves deserted, or to put it more accurately, found themselves gazing at an exhibit in a classroom where they were the only people to be found. Standing front of the teacher’s desk, the item exhibited on top of it…was a single empty can. Right next to it was a small name plate. The name of the exhibit…was Marunouchi Building. “But this right here is hardly a work of art. I mean, they just used literal garbage.”

“That they have,” remarked the Vice-Head pushing up his glasses in quiet, seething rage. “It feels like it ended up here from a failed throw into the bin.”

“And I mean, this looks like nothing like a skyscraper.”

“It’s little wonder there’s no one here to look at this garbage.”

“Just to confirm, which class did this?”

“Class 3Z.”

“And also just to confirm, who is in charge of 3Z?”

“That would be Ginpachi Sakata.”

“Shall we give him a good raking over the coals?”

“I guess we shall,” said the Vice-Head, after which the Headmaster crushed the empty can.

*

In Gintama High School, there exists a club that calls itself the Film Research Society. For the festival, they had borrowed a room with a projector, and converted it into a mini-cinema to screen their own self-made film. As you can imagine by the title of their club, they were very serious about their work. They had compiled a document of interviews with the Gintama old boys and girls still working all over the school, and had actors from the drama club playing the roles for their 30 minute piece in which off the wall humour was nowhere to be seen.

Their serious film that would be on show throughout the day was a teenage drama set in a football club. The room turned mini-cinema had around 10 viewers in it, both students and relatives. But among these guests, a man could be found muttering out loud,

“This is boring me to sleep, this is,” still in his white lab coat, still with his cigarette in mouth, was one Ginpachi Sakata. What’s more, he was seated all the way at the back where all the various relatives could hear his scathing criticisms and give him the occasional dirty look.

“The story’s so simple, and this composition is, how’d you put it? Conventional at best.”

“Umm, Sensei. Could you keep it down please?” politely warning Ginpachi was an acne ridden plump student from the Film Research Society, who shyly carried on with another warning. “Also, this room is a no-smoking zone.”

“Could ya put on a different movie?”

“Umm, are you even listening?”

“Like, look. I wanna watch something funny, not some amateur student movie. You know, like that movie in the ‘My Neighbour Pedro’ series that came out last year. The one where Pedro reunites with his long lost little brother, go put that one on.”

“You would have to go to a video rental shop if you want to put that on… Also, seriously if you could stop smoking in here…”

“Then how ’bout a yakuza movie?”

“Are you even listening? You’re as rude as a yakuza, that’s for sure.”

“Then how ’bout a porno?”

“How are you actually a teacher?” just as the two’s conversation continued to unfold, the Headmaster and Vice-Head entered the room through the back door.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” said the Headmaster, “considering this is exactly where you were lurking this time last year.”

“You want something?” replied Ginpachi who continued to pay the duo no mind.

“You’re bloody well right I do. Just what in the nine hells is your class’s exhibit?”

“It’s a work of painstakingly crafted art, is it not?”

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard. How about you say that one more time?”

“It’s a work of painstakingly crafted art, is it not?”

“Ah, so that is what you really said? Are you deliberately trying to infuriate me?” asked the Headmaster as blue blood vessels protruded out of his forehead.

“Sakata Sensei,” begun the Vice-Head, “I’m sorry to say, but what your class produced is, well, garbage. Pure garbage. Which is why we chucked it in the bin.”

“Oh, you chucked it in the bin for me? Cheers.”

“Not a problem… Wait, so you did think it was garbage!”

“Umm, could you keep it down…” warned the student to which the Vice-Head snapped back with

“Shut it! We’re having an important conversation here!”

“I wonder, Sakata Sensei,” said the Headmaster. “What exactly do you think of cultural festivals?”

“Just put me on holiday.”

“I can appreciate your honesty, but I’m afraid that can’t do.”

“But like, I really can’t stand cultural festivals, you know. I can’t stand those guys who’re all like ‘staying behind at school to make something special is so much fun, right guys?’ and oh yeah, then there’s those students who use the festival as a chance to get all lovey-dovey with their crush or whatever, can’t stand that either, and I have to put up with it for a whole day with nowhere to kill time. So basically what I’m saying is put me on holiday, Headmaster.”

“So that’s what you ultimately want? A holiday?” remarked the Headmaster who then sighed loudly. “Anyhow, just putting garbage such as that thing on exhibit doesn’t count as taking part in the cultural festival. Getting your class together for events like these is a fundamental part of being a good teacher. Hey, I sounded pretty good just now, didn’t I?”

“I suppose for your standards, yeah.”

“You know, you’ve been speaking casually to me rather a lot lately. Do you plan to carry on insulting my seniority?” The scowling Headmaster was then interrupted by a tut from Ginpachi.

“For your information, Boatmaster.”

“Headmaster. We’re not at a dock.”

“I’m just respecting my students’ independence. Do what you want, whether it’s by yourselves or in a group. That’s what I told them. It’s a perfectly valid educational approach, right? Hey, I sounded pretty good just now, didn’t I?”

“Letting them do what they want, eh…” the Headmaster looked as if he had swallowed a wasp. “Right then, I’ll definitely want to see what your so-called ‘educational approach’ looks like.”

“Can’t turn down the Headmaster,” said Ginpachi who then sluggishly got off his seat.

*

Gotta love festival stands, Hasegawa thought to himself. Making your own products, bargaining with your customers, walking your own path. Sure feels good to be a lone wolf entrepreneur.

On a corner of the ground and in amongst several lined up stands stood Hasegawa’s stand, where on his sizzling iron griddle, he was making okonomiyaki pancakes, Kansai style. Perhaps since it wasn’t quite lunch time yet, he still had very few customers, but he could tell just from the festival-goers pouring from the main and side gates that this year was going to be a good one for sales. Even so, thought Hasegawa as he prepared his okonomiyaki, I gotta thank Ginpachi Sensei.

“Okonomiyaki? You know how quick the turnover of those things has to be while you’re in a stand, right? Not to mention all the ingredients we need to make them. And don’t get me started on how annoying it’d be watching other students getting all lovey-dovey while being stuck in a stand all day. Just, I don’t care, you lot do whatever you want.”

It was an extremely self-centred approach for a teacher to take, but as far as Hasegawa was concerned, he couldn’t be more thankful. A man’s worth goes up when he gets things done on his own accord. As stall-keeper Taizo, I don’t need no help. Whether it’s today in this town or tomorrow in whatever town, it’s just what a hard boiled guy like me does. …Though I am still going to school tomorrow, while in that line of thought, Hasegawa continued to make his okonomiyaki. He couldn’t afford to take a break lest he lose precious customers. Continuing to work in anticipation of customers is the golden rule of the stall keeper life, and soon enough, a customer came by,

“How’s business treating ya, bossman?” standing in front of his stall was 3Z’s eccentric transfer student, Kagura.

“A warm welcome to you,” said Hasegawa like a seasoned stall-keeper.

“It smells so good, yeah. I knew what it was from like 10 metres away.”

“Pretty precise number you got there, but anyway, how about a fresh okonomiyaki? It’ll set ya back 400 yen,” said Hasegawa as he clanged his spatulas on the iron griddle.

“That’s expensive, yeah. How about I give you five yen for one, okay?”

“Get real. Even hagglers have limits,” though after saying that, Hasegawa quickly changed tune. “Alright then,” he said with a big smile. “You’re a classmate, after all. I’ll give you a half-price discount of 200 yen.”

“That ain’t no discount, tch,” pretending to not hear Kagura’s scathing words, Hasegawa put an okonomiyaki along with chopsticks into a plastic case.

“It’s my special Hasegawa recipe. Don’t gulp it down all at once.”

“Thanks, yeah,” upon receiving it, Kagura gorged it whole in two bites and two seconds flat. “I’ll have seconds.”

“Seconds?”

“Yes. One okonomiyaki isn’t gonna be enough, yeah.”

“S-sure, I guess. Just at least taste it a little more before swallowing,” looking despondent, Hasegawa served up another one to Kagura, who then gorged it whole in two bites again.

“Thirds.”

“You know you don’t get a prize for scoffing them down, right?” after consuming her third okonomiyaki in one bite, Kagura said,

“Anyways, the festival seems like it’s gonna be really good this year, right?”

“But, umm, don’t you have any thoughts on my okonomiyaki?”

“There’s so many people, yeah,” said Kagura, continuing to ignore Hasegawa.

“There sure is, huh,” he said as he gave up trying to change the topic. “Definitely way more than last year, and it’s all because of a certain special guest.”

“Special guest?” after a moment of confusion, “Oh please, yeah! There’s nothing that special about me, you know,” Kagura blushed.

“I’m not talking about you,” Hasegawa coldly retorted, “Like, what kind of special guest would show up with bits of seaweed in their teeth?”

“Then who’s the guest, yeah?”

“It’s Tsu Terakado,” Hasegawa emphasised. “Haven’t you seen the posters? They’re everywhere.” Indeed. Invited to this year’s cultural festival was none other than the wildly popular idol, Tsu Terakado. Even the idol apathetic Hasegawa couldn’t stop humming the hook of her massive hit “Where Did Your Momma Come From?”

“She’s performing on a stage made just for her this afternoon. That Shinpachi guy won’t shut up about it,” complained Hasegawa, pointing his chin towards the special stage in the centre of the sports ground.

“Aha, I was wondering why his glasses looked shinier than usual,” picking away at her teeth with a toothpick, she said “Anyways, I’m off, bossman. That was delicious,” and then walked off just like that.

“Come back anytime… Hey, wait! Wait!” Hasegawa shouted, leaving his stand to chase down Kagura. “Give me my money!”

“Money?”

“Yeah, money. You ate three okonomiyaki. At 200 yen each, you owe me 600.”

“That ain’t got nothin’ do with me.”

“Uh, yes it does! It’s got everything to do with you!” before Hasegawa could finish scolding Kagura, she darted off. “Oi, get back here! Oi! Oooooi!”

“What do ya think? Don’t they look like they’re all having fun doing what they want?” said Ginpachi who from a distance observed Hasegawa at his stall screaming “Don’t you dine and dash on meee!”

“Uh, I’d say that girl’s the only one having fun over there. That sunglasses fellow is on the verge of tears,” the Headmaster muttered with a pale face.

“Well, they say life’s full of ups and downs, right?” said Ginpachi half-arsedly. “Now let’s go to the next stand.”

*

“Why are there no warm wet towels anywhere?!” her arms folded imposingly, Tae Shimura was berating a male student.

“I’m sorry,” bowing his neck in apology, the student was still in school uniform. The two were in a classroom they had borrowed to set up a booth they named Club High School Lullaby. Gone were the teacher’s desk and all the other desks and chairs and in their place were decorative plants and big sofa sets they had managed to procure from seemingly out of nowhere. All the female students acting as hostesses had been scouted out by Tae for their looks only and regardless of their school year. They were all in sailor uniforms with slightly short skirts and slightly more exposed necklines as specified by Tae herself.

The parents—or more like just the fathers—were packed inside the club. It was fair to say business was booming. In the storage room cut off by a partitioning screen, Tae continued to berate the male waiter.

“Are we clear? You need to hand out those towels to the customers coming out from the toilets as well. That’s why we need to keep a stockpile. We can’t afford to run out of them, no matter what.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll go resupply them at once,” the waiter then bowed his head and dashed out of the storage room. In his place came another waiter who whispered into Tae’s ear.

“Shall I call over Aiko to the guests at table seven?”

“Which table is she at currently?”

“Table three.”

“Then send her over immediately to table seven. The guests there seem like the influential type. Have Aya take over at table three,” with her brisk, concise orders, Tae very much gave off the successful proprietress vibe. The loud shouts of a waiter could be heard coming from the club.

“One Dom Pérignon coming up, sir!” followed by,

“One Dom Pérignon coming up!”

“One Dom Pérignon spectacular coming up, sir!”

The club became more and more lively, with one waiter after another shouting at the top of their voices in order to be heard. The whirling disco ball placed arbitrarily onto the ceiling tinged the room in the sort of hue you would find in a serious adult graphic novel.

“I suppose I could have a quick look inside,” from the shadow of a corridor pillar, the Headmaster stealthily looked on at Club High School Lullaby. “But you know, we are actually in a school, aren’t we? I can hear the words ‘Dom Pérignon’ coming out of that…establishment.”

“Well, it does say ‘high school’ on the sign,” said Ginpachi.

“Uh, that doesn’t count at all… I mean, that Tae Shimura girl’s just doing what she knows best from the main series, which is ultimately titillation.”

“It’s basically fine, isn’t it? It’s another kind of club activity at the end of the day, just like the other ones.”

“Nice try, but this is just wrong! On a fundamental level!” to the side of the Headmaster who was halfway between a smile and a scowl, the Vice-Head could be found murmuring to himself.

“I wonder if they’ll accept my card?”

“Wait, you’re going in?” the Headmaster’s eyes were wide open with surprise.

*

Deep inside the gymnasium was a group of boys dressed in matching happi coats and headbands. There was only one person who could be leading such a group, and that was the captain of the Tsu Terakado fan club—Shinpachi Shimura.

“Listen up, guys!” shouted Shinpachi as blood vessels protruded out of his neck. “Today’s Otsu concert starts at 2pm! Let’s make it a superstar seminar!”

“Superstar seminar!” the fan club members shouted in response.

“I assume you ne’er-do-wells have memorized the lyrics to all the songs on Otsu’s album ‘Our coming together was bitchin’, tandoori chicken,’ right?!”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” the fan club spat out. It must be noted that Shinpachi has listened to the album in question 700 times.

“Okay, then we’ll start from track one: ‘The Redback Spider in My Newly built Apartment’!” and on Shinpachi’s count of four,

“♪Worked myself to near-death, finally saved enough for my deposit…”

The fan club started to sing. But as soon as the first verse passed, a fan club member spoke up.

“Captain! This guy isn’t singing! He’s just lip-synching!”

“You said what?!” Shinpachi didn’t hear a report; he heard only treachery as his face turned into that of a Hannya demon. The guilty party being dragged and handed over to the incensed captain was the newest member of the fan club.

“I’m so sorry, Captain! You see, I’ve actually been struggling for pocket change this month, so I still haven’t bought—”

“Then sell off your damn kidney if you have to!” Shinpachi ruled over the fan club with an iron-clad fist.

“Hey, get on with the song!” went Shinpachi’s order, to which the fan club rushed back to the next verse.

♪But there it was on the balcony. Was this place made from Aussie building supplies…”

In among the chorus of smelly, unhygienic boys singing in the choir, the screams of the lip-syncher left a long trail.

“Gaaaaaaaaah!”

Hidden away in a corner of the gym was the Headmaster, terrified at what he was witnessing. “Is that kid okay? Although considering how his face looks, that may not be the right question.”

“I guess when it comes to Tsu Terakado, they can raise their power levels to well over 9000,” said the Vice-Head remaining composed.

“Are you really sure it was a good idea to let these dangerous ruffians gather for a concert, Sakata Sen—” asked the Headmaster who looking to his side, found that unbeknownst to him, Ginpachi had disappeared.

“Huh? Where did that silver-haired man go?”

“Oh, he went off somewhere saying he needed to take a dump.”

“I see…” said the demoralised Headmaster with a small nod. “Urrrgh, it’s going to be such a bother having to scold each and every one of them on our own…”

“Ain’t that the truth. Wait, I mean, ain’t that the truth.”

The two stood in silence as the wind whistled past their antennas.

*

A cultural festival—or any festival—is naturally going to have people of all ages and genders having a good, festive time. But however, it is precisely because of that that there is a need for discipline to be upheld, at least, according to the Disciplinary Committee’s vice chairman, Hijikata, who was currently patrolling the streets—I mean, the corridors of the school. By his side was Okita, along with several other members of the committee. Tsu Terakado’s inclusion at this year’s festival meant far more visitors had come compared to a usual year, as several casually clothed youths were among the usual students’ relatives, although not all of them could be thought of as being there for the concert. It was possible that criminal types such as pickup artists or those looking to shakedown people for valuables would be in and amongst the crowd. Their mission was thus: Find the thugs and make them leave the school, with force if need be.

“Listen up, Sogo,” said Hijikata walking through the corridor. “If there’s any guy who’s acting even the slightest bit suspicious, we’ll surround them immediately.”

“I hear ya. Not even the most trivial heinous crime is going under my radar,” said Okita who was immersed in his PSP.

“You mean in the real world or the virtual world?” asked Hijikata with a low-key rage. “Turn it off. Now.”

“Fine,” Okita lethargically responded, putting the PSP straight back into his pocket.

“Today ain’t the day for distractions, Sogo,” Hijikata reminded him. “There’s way more people here than there was last year. And that means you can expect way more pickup and shake down artists amongst them. We’re in for a busy day’s work.”

“I get it, I really do,” said Okita unconcernedly with his hands behind his head. “But just milling round the place is boring. I’m not gonna get even a small taste of what the festival has to offer.”

“Forget about it,” said Hijikata with an unfailingly stern look. “We Disciplinary members aren’t here to enjoy the sights that the festival has to offer. We’re putting aside our fun to uphold law and order in our school. That’s what it means to be a member of the Disciplinary Committee. Hey, I sounded pretty good just now.”

“Sacrificing fun, is it?” as soon as Okita sighed away,

“Yo, Toshi. How’s the school holding up?” suddenly appearing was Kondo, the Committee Chairman, who had a roasted corn on the cob in his right hand and a boat of takoyaki in his left. A guidebook for the festival could be found protruding from a side pocket in his uniform.

“Well you look like having fun, eeeeeh?!” scolded Hijikata as he strangled Kondo. “Just what are you doing munching on a corn cob?! It’s your responsibility as chairman to lead by example.”

“I know that, Toshi. No need to nag,” said Kondo with an easy-going nod. “I wasn’t intending on spending the whole day having a good time. In fact, my festival ends with this corn cob and takoyaki. After that, I’m putting on my game face.”

“That’s the chairman I know,” as Hijikata said this, he lit up a cigarette, but upon remembering that he is in fact a third year high school student, he promptly put it out. Ahead in the corridor, the clattering sound of footsteps could be heard, belonging to two members who were rushing back with bad news.

“Chief!”

“It’s chairman, remember?!” reminding themselves of the universe they were in, one of the members then reported what happened.

“We’ve got an incident involving a female student.”

“Hmm. Did she get hit on?”

“No,” the member nodded, who then momentarily looked behind his back. Behind him was a female student being accompanied by a different member. Introducing herself as a student from class 1C, she then faced her back in embarrassment towards Hijikata and the others. The back of her sailor school uniform was covered in a thick red ink.

“That ain’t going out easily,” Okita muttered.

“Where did this happen to you?” Hijikata asked the female student, who explained that she was window shopping at the lecture hall flea market with her boyfriend when all of a sudden she had ink on the back of her uniform. After a brief moment of thought, Hijikata addressed the members who had brought along the girl.

“Right, you guys go and see if there’s anyone else who’s had something similar happen to them. If there is, I want you to ask them what happened.”

“Understood,” the boys replied, and with immediate effect, they got to work. Hand on chin, Kondo spoke solemnly.

“This is some malicious stuff, alright, and altogether different from getting hit on or shaken down. But still, there’s no need to fret, young miss. We’re going to do everything it takes to track down and capture the scum that did this to you,” Kondo, who was reassuring the girl with a hand on her shoulder, also happened to have red ink all over his back.

“You’re also inked, you know! It says the same thing as on the victim’s back!”

“Wait, no way! Is it ink? Are you sure it’s not ketchup? It doesn’t spell out ‘idiot,’ does it?”

Ignoring his idiot chairman who desperately tried to see what was written on his back, Hijikata tutted his lips in resignation. I can only hope this year’s festival doesn’t get ruined…

*

As the time passed, the sun headed ever higher. As the temperature slowly rose, the amount of festival-goers only continued to increase. Both the lively stands and the lively commotion of visitors going from one stand to the next made the festival atmosphere all the more engrossing.

But in the midst of all this excitement, there was a man alone by himself, driven by gloomy sentiments. Wearing a cap pulled down over his eyes and having pale lips, the man was in a male lavatory at a corner of the main school building. No one else currently occupied it, and to make it stay that way, he took out the “being cleaned” sign from the box of cleaning tools and placed it on the entrance door. Then with a paint can in hand, he opened the door of the furthest toilet, and without delay covered it whole in paint. The once white toilet bowl was now stained in a thick red. Naturally, the man was careful not to get the paint flying onto him. Soon afterwards, he quickly tidied himself up and exited into the corridor. Carrying out each action with speed and efficiency, he blended himself in with the passers-by, acting naturally so as to not catch anyone’s attention.

As he walked, the man muttered to himself This ain’t enough… I have to do more, much more… His pale lips once again warped into a slightly slanted sneer.

*

After finishing up his coaching of the fan club, Shinpachi made his way to the sports ground. In the centre of the ground was an outdoor stage specially set up for the occasion, placed so that the main school building would act as a backdrop.  Right in front of it was a standing section, and behind it were rows of folding chairs. There was about one hour to go until the start of Tsu Terakado’s special concert. Taking a seat in the seating section, Shinpachi turned his line of sight to the tent by the side of the stage. Thinking that Otsu would be coming out any moment, Shinpachi sweated from all pores in anticipation and excitement. Let’s save the excitement for the main event. Now that I’m done coaching, I can relax and enjoy the cultural festival. And then once that concert opens, we’ll bring the hype, stereotype!

Currently taking place on the special stage was a comedy variety show set up by a class of second year students. Unlike a certain other concert, there were no professionals invited, only attention seeking students showing off their own material. Thinking that such a little laid-back event might be a good way to pass the time, Shinpachi turned his attention to the stage.

“Okay, let’s get cracking on with Class 2A’s ‘Go for chuckle gold!’” a male student proclaimed into his handheld mic, fully embracing his role as comedy show host. “Our next contestants come from Class 3Zeee!”

Hmm? From 3Z? thought Shinpachi, curious as to why someone from his class volunteered. The host continued,

“Give a big, warm welcome to Katsura and Elizabeth!”

Wait, those two?! As Shinpachi sat flabbergasted, Katsura and Elizabeth took centre stage, their own specially chosen theme tune “Joi is Joy” blaring in the background. It appeared they were going to perform some kind of comedy duo routine. Katsura was in his school uniform, and Elizabeth remained like a penguin ghost. Katsura kicked things off.

“Hi, it’s me, Katsura.”

Elizabeth then held up a placard reading “It’s me, Elizabeth.”

“And together we’re! One, two…”

Don’t say the quiet part loud!

“Downsizing!”

What are you, business executives?

“You know, what’s the deal with the increase in crime, lately?” said Katsura.

“I know, right?” read Elizabeth’s placard.

“There was this crazy incident the other day on TV where a bank robber took a hostage and barricaded himself in the bank.”

“Oh really?”

“Those police officers really need to do their jobs better, eh?”

“Why is it an S-size?!”

He got his placards mixed up! Hurry up and retort back, Katsura!

“Uuh, right, time for a quick skit.”

Just how strapped for ideas are you?!

After a minute of a cringeworthy skit that made Shinpachi want to join in as a second straight man, the gong sound effect dinged through the speakers, signalling the end. From a wing of the stage came the host, who spoke with a beaming smile.

“And that’s tiiime up. Seriously, what the hell was that? Get outta here and don’t come back.”

Katsura, who felt that he at least got a mild chuckle out of the audience, exited stage left along with Elizabeth.

Look, a little looseness is never a bad thing, but that just went overboard. I tried giving them a fair shot, but I just couldn’t see what they were trying to go for. Expecting more of the next contestant, Shinpachi turned his attention back to the host.

“Now, our next contestant is…oh, another student from 3Z, huh?”

Another? thought Shinpachi apprehensively.

“Give a big, warm welcome to the stand-up comedian, Hedorooo!”

Wait… a chill instantly went through Shinpachi’s veins. Theme tune blaring, Hedoro lumbered onto the stage, and took centre mic.

“Hey, I’m Hedoro… Boy I tell ya, I don’t get no respect. You wouldn’t believe my wife the other night—”

Wait, he’s going for American stand-up?!  Shinpachi’s glasses slightly slid off at the surreal sight of a demon, in school uniform, doing American stand-up humour. Unaware of the internal meltdown going on in Shinpachi’s head, Hedoro continued his stand-up act, telling jokes in a voice so evil, the wife seemed like a saint. It wasn’t long before Hedoro reached his big punch line.

“…I was talking to some carpenters, ya see, crafty buncha guys. Turns out wooden planks ain’t the only things these guys go around nailing… Ah, I don’t get no respect…” having evilly delivered his big punch line, Hedoro looked around the audience for a response.

“…………”

He’s waiting… He’s waiting for a laugh, Shinpachi’s face turned a pale blue. He quickly whispered to the other members of the audience to laugh like their life depended on it.

“Ha…”

“Haha…”

“Uhahahaha!” went the sporadic laughs of the audience. The gong sound effect dinged soon after, allowing the host to get back on stage.

“Wh-why thank you ever so much, for that fusion of fear and laughs, wh-whoapleasedon’tkillmePleasegohomeanddon’tlookback,” with a look of petrification, the host sent Hedoro on his way to stage left.

Ugh…that’s enough of that, thought an exhausted Shinpachi, I should get some monjayaki or something to eat at one of the stands while I wait for the concert to start… Just as Shinpachi got off his seat with that thought, a conversation in the background caught his ear.

“I must have dropped it somewhere. Help me look for it.”

“But you said it was definitely in your pocket.”

Shinpachi saw what looked like a student couple talking together with long faces. It appeared the female student had dropped her wallet or something.

I’d better check my pocket too… with that thought in mind, Shinpachi pressed down on his trouser pocket. To his dismay, he realised that his own wallet had disappeared. “You’re kidding…”

*

Now this is what it’s all about! his spatulas flying around with frantic enthusiasm, Hasegawa was fully engrossed in his work. As noon passed, the traffic of customers within his view only increased, and with it, he grew into a routine. Frying, selling, and then wiping the sweat on his forehead from the steam of his griddle with his towel headband.

“Okay, that’ll be 400 yen, and here’s 600 in change. To the sir over there, hold on just a moment, I’ll fry yours up right away. And how many would you like? Two, is it? Why certainly!” there was no shortage of hands in the air or mouths to feed. The bag of money by his feet was getting heavier and heavier.

I’m loving this, thought Hasegawa. But really, it’s not that the money’s nice, it’s that I feel really fulfilled working up a sweat to make a living. Hurrah for honest labour. Hurrah for cultural festivals. Then, a new customer came along.

“Gimme ten, yeah,” the order came from the all too familiar Kagura who now had the giant lost dog Sadaharu by her side.

“T-ten?” Hasegawa asked in surprise. “But, I mean, you already had three this morning, didn’t you? Do you really like my Hasegawa special that much? They’re not even all that special.”

“It’s Sadaharu who’s gonna be eating this time, yeah. So gimme ten.”

Ten okonomiyaki must be an appetiser to a massive thing like him, surely? “—Well, look, I don’t mind who’s doing the eating, but I’ve already got a bunch of customers standing here. Could he hold on a little longer?”

“He can’t hold on any longer, yeah.”

“Like, you can say that all you…” halfway through his sentence, Hasegawa had caught on. Sadaharu, who was supposed to be by Kagura’s side, had disappeared from right under his nose. Once he came to this realisation, he found Sadaharu behind his stand, who had already begun to help himself to the eggs, pork slices, cabbage, fried batter bits, red pickled ginger, and even dried seaweed.

“No! Hey, what’s the big idea?!” call him bold or call him mad, Hasegawa was determined to put a stop to Sadaharu’s culinary thievery. Though within an instant, Hasegawa took a giant paw punch to the face, slamming him to the ground in an unflattering state. “Hey! Do something about the mutt, I beg you!” Hasegawa pleaded with his sunglasses now shattered.

“Got it!” Kagura answered, who proceeded to stuff herself with the ready-to-go okonomiyaki on the stand.

“The only thing you’ve got is my product! What’s your deal?! Oh god no! Don’t eat the flour! I need that for the pancake batter! Ah it’s hopeless, I’m gonna cry!” Right beside the despondent Hasegawa were a couple of female students in conversation.

“Whoa, you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m not, but like…” said the other female student who had a several centimetres long cut on the bottom of her skirt. Whether by a utility knife or a pair of scissors, it was definitely the work of some sort of sharp object.

“When do you think that cut got there?”

“I’m not sure…” as the two girls pondered the question with gloomy faces,

“Alas, my beautiful stand…my fortreeeeeeess!” Hasegawa’s cries of loss and anguish rang through the air.

*

For just this day on a certain door, the usual doorplate written “Chairwoman’s Office” was replaced with a plate written “Fortune Teller’s Room.” The students weren’t the only ones who had set up stands or events.

The cultural festival only comes round once a year. Even I can’t help but get in on the fun, it was with this mindset that Chairwoman Otose set up a fortune teller’s room. At her ebony desk blowing cigarette smoke, she was Otose, the mother of Kabukicho. Sitting in front of the desk at that moment and ready to get his fortune told was Zenzo Hattori Sensei—the Japanese history teacher.

“Well, there’s been a lot on my mind, you see,” Hattori Sensei proclaimed. “I guess you could say it concerns my current treatment, that kind of thing. I’m a former Oniwaban… well, in the main series, I am. But even there, I don’t seem like a super strong character. Whichever way you look at it, I just seem like an idiot, with haemorrhoids as my one defining trait. That seems to be it.”

As Hattori Sensei laid bare everything, the Chairwoman let out a slender puff of smoke, “Meh, it’s not so bad. At least you’re not a disposable character. Don’t start thinking having your one time to shine is preferable.”

“But I mean, I’d like a few more serious scenes at least…”

“Time’s up,” said Otose looking intently at her wristwatch.

“Wait, already? But I’ve barely got started…”

“Well it’s not like you would’ve had much else to say.”

“That’s harsh!”

“And also, it’ll be 50,000 yen for admission.”

“And expensive to boot!”

“C’mon, cough it up already.”

Reluctantly, Hattori Sensei reached into his suit’s inner pocket. However…

“Huh?”

“What now?”

“My wallet’s…gone. That’s where I always keep my wallet…” he would soon discover that the suppositories he brought with him for emergencies were also gone.

“So you’ve got no money?” asked the chairwoman with a vein pulsating on her temple.

“Nah, that’s not it. That’s where I always keep it. How odd…”

“You must be pretty gutsy trying to play stupid with me.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not it. My wallet’s been nicked, along with my suppositories!”

“As if I needed to know that!”

“Arrrrgggggh!” receiving a cigarette butt to the forehead, Hattori Sensei’s screams reverberated from the room.

*

“You know…” said the Headmaster, “just to be certain, this is my office, isn’t it?”

“It was,” the Vice-Head replied.

“But it wasn’t like this just an hour ago…”

“I’ve never seen the place in such a state.”

Having got back from their patrol of the school, the Headmaster and Vice-Head stood in shock at the terrible state of the Headmaster’s office. Everywhere from the floor to the walls was covered in crude, red graffiti.

STOP CULTURAL FESTIVALS!

CULTURAL FESTIVALS ARE SHIT!

DIARRHEA DICK!

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE ANIME ADAPTATION!

ABOLISH ALL CULTURAL FESTIVALS!

The scrawled letters smacked of a deep-seated grudge.

“What’s with this graffiti? One of them is congratulatory…” by the side of the dumbfounded, muttering Headmaster,

“But thank god that didn’t get sprayed,” said the Vice-Head who recovered his Super Jump from the table.

“Then could you lend me the weekly one?”

*

The man could feel that his tirade of vandalism had noticeably changed the atmosphere inside the school. “Heh-heh-heh…” quietly laughed the man, relieving himself in a toilet in the dark. I’m not done yet… I’ve saved my best till last. Having done his business, he got off the toilet, leaving it unflushed of course. Moving through the corridors with purpose, the man set off for the building containing the science laboratory.

*

“I knew something’s been off about this year’s festival…” muttered Hijikata. The location was the 3Z classroom. With Ginpachi and the 3Z’s half-arsed, cobbled together exhibit now disposed of, it was just a regular old classroom. There were certainly no visitors there either, for Hijikata and the rest of the Disciplinary Committee were using the room as a temporary meeting hall. There, the committee members who had been spread all across the school would one after another return back to report their findings, which were as follows:

Five cases of school toilets being sprayed with red paint.

Seven cases of school uniforms being stained with ink while in crowds.

Four cases of school uniforms being cut with a sharp object.

Eight cases of possessions such as wallets being stolen.

And last but not least, there was another new case, reported in a strained voice by a committee member who rushed into the classroom.

“We’ve got another case! A toilet on the first floor has been left with an unflushed poop!”

“What did you say?!” shouted Okita who rose up slamming the desk. “How big was it?!”

“Why do you care?!” shouted Hijikata angrily, who then promptly ordered the member to have it flushed immediately.

“But what about preserving the crime scene?” asked Okita.

“Forget about that!” shouted Hijikata ever more angrily. Soon after, Kondo spoke up in a solemn fashion.

“At any rate, the number of cases we have here is getting out of control,” he said in a school uniform that was inked and covered in countless cuts.

“Well you already count for two of those cases by yourself,” said Hijikata who was beginning to nurse a slight headache.

The point remained clear, however. The number of cases was abnormally high. Once the initial reports came in, the committee strengthened its school patrols. But rather than stopping the cases, they only increased further, and in a short amount of time to boot.

“Think we’re dealing with multiple offenders?” Okita pondered.

“We have to be, considering all these cases,” responded Hijikata, who then turned to face Kondo. “Anyway, Chairman. I think we’re going to need more members on patrol.”

“You say that, but the school’s already overflowing with patrols, isn’t it?”

“I do get that, but this is an emergency situa—” having realised something, Hijikata abruptly stopped speaking. “Actually, scratch that. Where the hell has that Yamazaki gone while we’ve been up to our eyeballs in cases?”

“Him? He’s playing badminton,” said Okita, pointing to the corner of the room where Minton Yamazaki could be found working up a sweat practising his swings.

“You little prick!” shouted Hijikata who immediately went after Minton Yamazaki.

“Yaaaaargh!” just as Minton Yamazaki was getting pummelled, Okita hit upon an idea.

“Chairman, how about we ask that guy for help?”

“That guy?” said Kondo furrowing his eyebrows.

“There’s only one guy in this school, and especially on cultural festival day, who’ll be free enough to help us out,” although in truth he wasn’t expecting much out of his idea, Okita continued. “I mean, it can’t hurt to ask him at least, right?”

*

In no small part due to the loud, heckling way Ginpachi watched movies, all of the general audience had vanished from the mini-cinema. As he lounged on a chair in the back row with his feet up on a desk, several students appeared, crowding around him.

“Something’s seriously off about this year’s festival! Some weird creep’s been going round the school causing trouble!” Shinpachi then carried off from where Kondo started.

“He’s right! My wallet got stolen, and not only that, my ticket for Otsu’s dome concert next month is in there…”

“Look,” with cigarette in one hand and chin in the other, Ginpachi turned his sluggish eyes to the students, “be it wallets, paint, poop, none of it’s got anything to do with me. Why do you think they’re reasons to come over here and bother me?”

“But Sensei,” Hijikata replied back, “you’re just killing time right now, right? Can’t you spend some of it helping us catch the culprit?”

“Nah.”

“That was quick!” Ginpachi’s near instantaneous response had left Hijikata flinching.

“I mean, we’re in an alternate universe, remember? Here, I’m a school teacher, not an odd-jobber.”

“But look,” Kondo persisted, “3Z students—your students—are being affected by all this, you know.”

“Well I guess you’ve been affected, at least,” Ginpachi riposted coldly.

“We really need your help, Sensei,” said Shinpachi, taking a step forward. “Aren’t you our form teacher? Aren’t you the main character? Aren’t you the kind of character who appears on the front cover of Jump? We need your help.”

“Please help us find the culprit.”

“Please help us protect our cultural festival.”

The requests from students bowing their heads kept coming in, to which Ginpachi without a sliver of a damn blurted out, “Cultural festivals are worth protecting, you say?” taking a moment to put out his cigarette, he then continued, staring at them with his usual dead-fish eyes. “Here’s a fun fact about me. I can’t stand cultural festivals.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you love them or hate them,” said Shinpachi in desperation. “Right now, in Gintama High School—our school—there’re people having their day ruined by a bad guy, and he’s out there blending in with all the visitors. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Whether it’s taking part in a cultural festival or going to one, I can imagine both options ruining my day. Am I wrong?” asked Ginpachi with a raised eyebrow. Shinpachi could only shake his head,

“Th-that’s just cold… Why are you being like this?”

“Whatever you say to me, I don’t like what I don’t like. Period,” said Ginpachi scratching his silver mop of hair. And then,

“Seems you aren’t too fond of cultural festivals, huh?” the Headmaster and the Vice-Head with his precious copy of Super Jump under his armpit arrived at the classroom.

“Well, if it isn’t you two again?” Ginpachi remarked coldly.

“Sakata Sensei,” said the Headmaster, “I heard from the disciplinary committee on the way here. There appears to be a ruffian trying to sabotage our cultural festival.”

“I’ll say it again,” said Ginpachi to the Headmaster, his eyes turned to the edge of his eyelids. “Why are you asking me? I have nothing to do with this.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you,” said the Headmaster looking intently at Ginpachi.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Headmaster explained, “A few moments ago, a scoundrel entered my office.”

“A scoundrel?” the students wondered in surprise, but Ginpachi stayed silent.

“On the walls in my room, graffiti such as ‘stop cultural festivals’ was sprayed all over, which would appear to suggest that the perpetrator harbours an intense dislike of cultural festivals…” the Headmaster cut to silence as if it was profound.

“What are you trying to get at here?” Ginpachi’s tone remained unchanged.

“What he’s trying to get at is that you’re the scoundrel who did it, aren’t you?”

“No no, you’re supposed to go about these things in a roundabout way!” said the Headmaster in a tizzy. “Now all that setup I did was for nothing!”

By the side of the loud Headmaster, Ginpachi got up. He stared silently at the Headmaster’s face, and then without warning nor hesitation, yanked his antenna off. As the blood flowed from his forehead, so too did the yells of bloody murder from the bloody Headmaster.

“Owowowow! Why did you yank it off?! That’s the second time you’ve done that! Is my precious antenna that easy to yank off?!”

“Don’t go throwing around baseless accusations then,” Ginpachi then flung the antenna to the Vice-Head, who then also flung it away, shouting out an “Eww!”

“Anyways,” said Ginpachi firmly planted back in his chair, “the culprit hates cultural festivals, right? Which means that if the cultural festival ends, this whole fuss’ll end too, won’t it?” To all present, his words might as well have been an ultimatum.

With nary a word uttered, the Disciplinary Committee left the mini-cinema, followed by Shinpachi, and then the Headmaster and Vice-Head.

*

As 2pm approached ever closer for the concert, the amount of concert-goers grew ever higher. The fan club was already gathered in the standing space next to the front of the stage, and naturally that included Shinpachi too. Leading the club from the front, he gave out his final order with passion.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s make this a superstar seminar!”

“Superstar seminar!” shouted the fan-club in unison. As he nodded in approval, Shinpachi couldn’t help but feel an anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach, an anger that just wouldn’t go away. I was wrong about you, Ginpachi Sensei. I knew that you hated cultural festivals, but even so, why be so cold about it? Why make the people who enjoy them seem like idiots? Well I for one enjoy them, Shinpachi affirmed to himself. Especially when they host a special Otsu concert… But still, a certain uneasiness remained. After all, somewhere among the visitors was a bad guy with an axe to grind against cultural festivals. Shinpachi could only hope the concert would go by without any trouble…

*

The concert venue was packed. Not just with fans, but also with people curious to see what she was all about. Even students busy with attending to their stands or events had come along to watch, including the likes of Tae, Hasegawa, Kagura, Katsura and Hedoro. Even Catherine, who had just earlier opened up a pyramid scheme in an empty classroom, abandoned it to come and watch. So too did Sacchan, who for when and what purposes unknown, had thick ropes concealed in her bag. Warning the crowd of the bad guy lurking within, the top brass of the Disciplinary Committee, Kondo, Hijikata, Okita, and Minton Yamazaki, were there and present. So too was the Chairwoman, Headmaster, and Vice-Head. So too was the cigar smoking Matsudaira Sensei, and so too was the haemorrhoids-inflicted Hattori Sensei.

…Basically, everyone was there, and the excitement and anticipation was palpable. 2pm had already come, but as a rule with these types of events, they don’t open quite exactly on time. But once the clock buried in the wall of the school building struck 2:10pm, the stage lit up.

*

“Hey everyone, it’s time to show that rhythm is a dancer, necromancer! ”

“Necromanceeeeer!” As is tradition, a call and response marked the start of an Otsu concert. The lead song was her smash hit “Where did your momma come from?” The familiar song got not just the fan club hyped, but also the more casual visitors.

And that’s when it began.

Just as Otsu had entered into the first hook of the song, the power went down, and with it, the sound and lights. Of course, as the concert was in a field in the afternoon, it didn’t get suddenly shrouded in darkness. But, it was obvious for all to see that something was off. With the crowd now chatting among themselves, even Otsu and her band members couldn’t help but trade puzzled looks at each other. It was then that a lone man rushed onto the stage.

His eyes hidden by his cap, wearing a jumper, and with a rucksack on back, he held a fire extinguisher in his hand.

“Ots—!” before Shinpachi could shout, the man pointed the nozzle at the whole band, spraying them in foam one by one. With the audience screaming in panic, the band members escaped the stage, panickily tumbling down in the process. The only person the man didn’t attack was Otsu herself, as if that’s what he was planning from the start. As the dropped extinguisher thudded onto the floor, the man promptly hounded towards Otsu, leaving her little time to react.

“Otsu!” by the time Shinpachi could shout it out, it was already too late. Otsu was now trapped behind the man’s arms.

“Th-this has to be false, Tennessee waltz!” she shouted.

“Shut it!” the man had finally spoken. His voice cracked with an danger and derision that silenced Otsu. With that, he approached centre mic and barked “Get the Chairwoman over here. Now!”

By now, the audience had dispersed, and was instead watching the situation develop from a distance. Shinpachi remained in the standing section. Right next to him was the Disciplinary Committee all lined up.

“Hey, who the hell d’ya think you are?!” shouted Hijikata towards the man.

“Shut it! I didn’t ask for no students! I asked for the Chairwoman!”

“Will a chairman do then?!” said Kondo, taking a step forward.

“Are you fucking deaf?! Having a ‘chair’ in your title isn’t going to cut it!” the rage in his voice made it clear what he was after.

Wh-what’s going to happen next? What do I do? What even is the best thing is to do… Shinpachi could only stand still, completely lost at how to deal with the situation.

*

The Chairwoman had come to the front of the stage. “I’m the Chairwoman,” she said unflinchingly, looking upwards to the man. “What do you want then?”

“I only want one thing,” said the man, his eyes watching intently under the visor of his cap. “To abolish cultural festivals, now and forever. State that you’ll do so, right here, right now.”

Right there, it clicked for Shinpachi and for everyone else affected by the turmoil.

He’s the guy. He’s the one who’s been causing trouble all over school. The paint in the toilets, the ripping of school uniforms, the pickpocketing. And now to top it all off, he’s going to ruin Otsu’s concert.

“Why do you feel like you have to abolish cultural festivals?” the Chairwoman asked, maintaining her scowl at the man.

“Because they’re stupid and worthless, that’s why,” replied the man in a deep voice resembling that of Ginpachi’s.

This guy really has it out for cultural festivals… thought Shinpachi in reaffirmation.

“Abolish it! Abolish the festival! I want you to state that here and now!” said the man pointing his finger at the Chairwoman.

“I refuse!” the untimid Chairwoman fired back. “There’s absolutely no way I’ll be taking orders from some thug like you!” her tone cut straight to the point, and it wasn’t long before it started to have a ripple effect on the students and their relatives watching from afar. Among the crowd, sentiments such as “Yeah, she’s right!” “Don’t abolish cultural festivals!” and “Hooray for cultural festivals!” could be heard all over.

“Yeah! Hooray for cultural festivals! Abolish dine and dashing instead!” said Hasegawa joining with the crowd.

“Without the festival, Elizabeth and I would have no other place to tell jokes!” said Katsura.

“I want to sharpen up my jokes for next year,” said Hedoro, joining in with his usual terrifying voice.

“Club High School Lullaby will forever stand!”

“Just give me back my suppositories!”

“I’ve got a system that’s bound ta make a profit, like!”

Getting caught up in the excitement, Shinpachi also joined in, “Yeah! I’ve had enough of your disregard, Saint Bernard!”

“Shut the hell up, you damn sheeple!” boosted by the mic, the man’s voice had instantly flipped the entire mood, hushing the roar of the crowd.

“Do I look like a fluffy sheep to you, you bastard?!”

“Sheeple aren’t literal sheep people, Chairman,” once Hijikata finished his fruitless attempt to correct Kondo, the man continued.

“The way you sheeple try to hype things up is so annoying. Stupid cultural festivals. Just hurry up and say you’ll abolish them now.”

“I refuse!” the Chairwoman wasn’t going to budge. In response, the man gave a crooked sneer.

“I’m afraid you can’t refuse,” the man then took out of his rucksack a bottle with some kind of liquid inside it. As he held it right next to Otsu’s face, the man carried on his speech in triumphant fashion. “This is acid. I nicked it from the lab just for this,” the mood had now become skin-crawlingly tense. “Chairwoman, if you don’t abolish the cultural festival, this girl’s gonna get a faceful of acid.”

“…There’s no low you won’t stoop to, huh,” said the Chairwoman biting her lower lip.

“Let…” attempting to speak up, Shinpachi noticed his voice becoming hoarse. He took a moment to take a breath, then continued. “Let go of Otsu! She’s got nothing to do with this!”

Turning to face Shinpachi, the man slowly shook his head. “Nuh-uh, she’s got everything to do with this. I mean, she came to this festival, didn’t she?” the man’s pale lips formed a broad sneer.

This guy… He’s lost it… Shinpachi gulped. Then…

“Christ’s sake, it’s so loud here, I can’t watch the movie,” although not especially loud, the voice yet strangely enough reverberated. Cutting through the wall of people, Ginpachi got up on stage, his cheap sandals flip-flopping.

“Ginpachi Sensei!” shouted Shinpachi in relief.

“Ginpachi!”

“Ginpachi Sensei!”

“Sensei!”

“Ginpachi Sensei!” the whole crowd was relieved.

(note)“I thought after finally getting those film snobs to screen My Neighbour Pedro, I could sit back and relax, but clearly not. What’s got you so worked up then?” even in front of the man, Ginpachi’s tone remained as carefree as ever. The dark cloud of anxiety brewing inside Shinpachi now started to feel like it was clearing.

I just know it’ll be okay now, thought Shinpachi. Now that he’s here…

*

“Who the hell are you?”

“Why I’m everyone’s friendly neighbourhood hero, Ginpachiman, of course.”

“What’ve you come here for?”

“I should be asking you that question, what with that dangerous looking thing in your hand.”

“I’ve come here to abolish cultural festivals. I’m making sure this shitty event never happens again.”

“Oooh,” chuckled Ginpachi lightly, “then I guess we’re on the same page,” he then turned to face the Chairwoman by his side. “So then, what do you say to that, Chairwoman?”

“Whose side are you on, you silver mop?!”

“Figures,” muttered Ginpachi, scratching his head. He then refocused his attention to the man. “I mean look, I care so little about these things, I’d be hard pressed to tell the difference between a cultural festival and an agricultural festival.”

“They couldn’t be more different, Sensei,” Shinpachi bluntly retorted, though Ginpachi carried on regardless.

“But still, you’re gonna have to let go of that girl.”

“Hmph,” grunting in contempt, he applied a tighter grip round Otsu’s neck with his right arm. “You’re one of her fans, eh?”

“Not really, no. Still though, I’m the one who got her to do a concert here in the first place,” Ginpachi explained.

Shinpachi then remembered. The one who proposed the concert in the first place was indeed Ginpachi, mainly as a way to coax the cheating-opposed Shinpachi into cheating on the early term test. Today’s concert was the result of that.

“If you let anything bad happen to that girl, I won’t be able to sleep at night, you know.”

“Then how about you go talk to the Chairwoman and make her abolish the festival?” ordered the man pointing his chin towards the Chairwoman. It was the one thing his mind was positively set on, and he wasn’t yet ready to budge. “I tell ya right now, right. There ain’t no good going to come out of these damn cultural festivals continuing,” every word he spoke was filled with spite. “All the guys who cheerfully say ‘Staying behind at school to create something special is so much fun’ piss me off so much. All the teachers who’ll look on at it cracking a little smile piss me off. The very existence of these ‘festivals’ are a stain on this earth.”

“Hah, it’s like you’re reading my mind,” said Ginpachi, having a small chuckle. “So then, Chairwoman. About abolish—”

“For crying out loud, whose side are you on?!” repeated the Chairwoman, wondering what there even was to negotiate.

Scratching his head, Ginpachi turned his attention back to the man. “Right, so I get that you hate cultural festivals and all that, but tell me why. Give me your reason.”

“Reason?” the man’s eyes squinted in suspicion.

“Yeah, the reason why you hate cultural festivals so much,” Ginpachi’s question seemed to touch a nerve somewhere deep in the man.

“Fine, I’ll tell ya then,” in his deep, low tone, he began his story. “Originally, right, I didn’t really hate or like cultural festivals, wasn’t too fussed about them… Actually to tell ya the truth, I did like them. It was 10 years ago…when I was a first year high school student. My class decided to make a totem pole for the cultural festival. Thinking back to it now, our exhibit was pretty rubbish. But I didn’t care either way. Staying behind at school to create something really was so much fun. I could still enjoy those kinds of things back then.” The man’s eyes had a longing look to them. However, his right arm still remained tightly gripped around Otsu. “As we were making that totem pole, I got a crush on one of the girls from my class. You get it right? You get the chance to talk to girls who don’t talk much normally, and then you’re like ‘Huh? Now that I look at her, she’s real cute. Like, she’s being oddly nice to me, isn’t she?’ that kinda thing… I was smitten with that girl,” Ginpachi listened on silently. “…But it was all just a giant trap!” the man’s eyes suddenly burst open with derision. “The day after the cultural festival, I confessed to her! But she totally rejected me! She said ‘I’m sorry, but I only think of you as a classmate…’ Are you fucking kidding me?! Then why did she smile at me like that?! Why was she so nice to me?! She didn’t see me any other way, yet she still acted like that to me! She made me look like a idiot for confessing! If I didn’t get all excited preparing for that festival, I wouldn’t have got pulled in by a damn wretch like her! Stupid me! Stupid cultural festivals!” having rattled on and on without pause, the man stopped to take a breath, then continued. “…The same thing happened in second and third year too,” and with that bombshell, the man’s soliloquy was over.

It was hard to put a finger on the atmosphere at that time. The way the man emotionally told his story made his eventual explanation and bombshell all the more jarring. All the tension that had been built up had felt like it was for nothing.

That’s all this is? wondered Shinpachi. He’s just venting because he got turned down at a cultural festival?

“Well, at least I now understand that sad page of your life story, but—” just as Ginpachi was talking,

“It wasn’t just one page, it was three pages! All covering my years in high school!”

“Sure, three pages then. Just let me ask you one more thing.”

“What?”

“Why here? Every school puts on a cultural festival, right? So why target this school of all places?”

“Isn’t it obvious?! I’m a Gintama old boy, that’s why!”

Raising an eyebrow, Ginpachi turned to look at the Chairwoman. “You hear that, Chairwoman?”

“I sure as hell don’t remember a student like him,” the Chairwoman made sure to emphasise.

Ginpachi turned his focus back to the man, “Right, I get how you feel, but look. Is your grudge still really that strong? After 10 years?”

“…I’ve tried to put it aside for so long,” the man’s eyes were cast ever so slightly downward. “For all those years after graduating, I tried to put those sad memories aside. But every year when the cultural festival came round, those memories came back, making me sick to my stomach with rage. This year’s no different. Seeing people get swept up by the excitement like I used to… Seeing the dipshits happily getting together and being couples… I couldn’t take it no more.”

Although seeing that today was the tipping point for the man, Shinpachi nevertheless couldn’t sympathise with him. How’s that relevant? How’s you being dumped at the cultural festival got anything to do with us?! It was there that Shinpachi’s feelings turned from thoughts to words. “How’s that relevant?! Your sad past has nothing to do with us!”

“Shut it!” the man snapped back, “Cultural festivals are the worst! Abolishing them’s the best thing to do! Say you’ll abolish them now! Or the girl gets it!” he said while holding the acid right next to Otsu’s mouth, from which a small shriek managed to leak out. Everyone watching on felt a sense of trepidation once again. Then Ginpachi spoke up.

“Hold it. …I know how you feel. I also hate cultural festivals,” his tone was still as calm and collected as ever, “But however. There’s another thing in this world I hate just as much.”

“……” squinting his eyes, the man tilted his head in curiosity.

“And you know what that is?” said Ginpachi pulling his right leg slightly back. “It’s bloody dullards like you who’ll blame anyone but themselves!” in sync with his words, Ginpachi launched his right leg upwards. With a swoosh, the cheap sandal hanging on his right foot jetted at high speed towards the man, scoring a direct hit on his face and making him let go of the bottle. The acid inside splashed onto the ground as it broke, though thankfully no one got caught in its radius.

“Guh,” the moment the man flinched, Otsu gave him a firm elbow to the gut. As he crumpled forward and let her escape, Ginpachi leapt nimbly onto the stage.

“This ends now, you salty virgin,” he said ramming his fist straight into the man’s face. A sharp crunch ringing from the impact, the man fell to his knees.

As blood poured out from his nose, he faintly said “…D-don’t you call me…a virgin…” before collapsing onto his bloodied face. Cheers roared from the crowd.

“He did it! Incredible!” Shinpachi shouted with joy. He was pretty much winging it when he flung his sandal at that guy. But it was still incredible! He scored a direct hit! Otsu was then escorted off stage by the teachers, with some other teachers subduing the man on the stage. In the midst of the tumult, Ginpachi took centre mic and reported the news to the crowd.

“There’s nothing to fear now. I, Class 3Z’s Ginpachi Sakata, have successfully thwarted the hoodlum’s evil scheme. Thank you, thank you,” the crowd’s cheers continued on for some time.

*

With the cultural festival destroyer now sent to the police, the antennaless Headmaster announced that the Tsu Terakado special concert was up and running again, and would reopen in an hour’s time. The crowd was once again buzzing with excitement. In the standing section, Shinpachi said this to the fan club.

“Listen up, guys! Let’s make this concert even merrier, Yorkshire terrier!”

“Yorkshire terrier!” the fanclub shouted heartily. It was then that Shinpachi found Ginpachi heading towards the school building. Handing command to one of his top brass, Shinpachi rushed towards Ginpachi.

“Sensei!”

“Yeah?” said Ginpachi stopping on the spot.

“Won’t you come watch the concert?”

“It’s in an hour’s time, right?” asked Ginpachi, lighting up a new cigarette. “If I feel like it, I’ll come watch.”

“Ah okay…” Shinpachi was lost on what to say next. But upon realising that an honest thank you would be the best thing to do, he did just that. “Sensei, thank you so, so much. Thank you for saving our cultural festival.”

“Honestly,” said Ginpachi puffing out smoke. “It’s all that effort you lot made me go through that makes me hate cultural festivals. No peace and quiet. Once next year’s festival rolls around, I’m going on holiday, I can tell you that much.”

Shinpachi gave a slight chuckle. Ginpachi then got back on his way to the school building, scratching his arse while he was at it. Behind him, Shinpachi spoke up.

“Sensei.”

“Hm?” Ginpachi stopped, but didn’t turn his head.

“Sensei, if something happened…” taking a little time to think things over, Shinpachi carried on. “If something were to happen at next year’s cultural festival…would you mind us asking you for your help again?”

It was then that Ginpachi turned around. “Dumb-arse. You’ll have graduated this time next year, remember? Unless you’re planning to redo the year?”

“Oh yeah,” Shinpachi realised. He’s right. We’re third years now. His face turned bright red. But, he continued internally, if anything were to happen again… Whenever we find ourselves in trouble…

We’ll be counting on you to take on the job—Gin.

The white lab coat in front of him then disappeared sluggishly into the school building.

END

To read my translator’s notes for this chapter, click here