Ok so I had extra time and I decide to take tally of every time baz’ s name is mentioned in Simon’s pov or he says baz’ s name. There is 517 pages in carry on and Simon thinks/says baz’ s name 538 times (give or take a few) and I haven’t even counted how many pages are just Simon’s pov yet
Reasons why Utsuro cannot be Him (100% Manga Spoilers)
I won’t mention who “He” is just in case someone not reading the manga stumbles across this. But I will be listing my theories, backed by evidence, to the recent development of the Gintama Manga. If you don’t want to be spoiled, please close your eyes and scroll down as far as you can. This is a long post.
1. His mannerism Although Utsuro looks like Shouyo, he doesn’t act like Shouyo-sensei at all. In Chapter 543, page 9, Utsuro said to an unconscious Sougo: “How unfortunate. My feathers are vast. A single rat cannot escape."
That doesn’t sound like the kind of Sensei who in Chapter 523 page 12 said: "I had been thinking how with these hands that only took things away, I might be able to give something.”
I know Utsuro has a connection with Shouyo - not just because of his looks but his fighting styles that Gintoki recognized.
Also, in Gintama Chapter 545 page 4, Utsuro called Gintoki “Shiroyasha.”
Not once had he called Gintoki by his name like Shouyo-sensei. That could be because Utsuro don’t know Gintoki’s name. He just knew the Shiroyasha by reputation, not in person. He even fired the ship’s canon at Gintoki in Chapter 541 page 11
Only when Oboro told him that it was Shiroyasha he fired on did Utsuro know who it was.
2. His rank Utsuro was “A crow that reached the heavens while in service to them. The man that was the first leader of the Tenshouin Naraku and became Tendoshuu.” As said by Nobume in Chapter 542 page 19.
Tendoshuu are pretty much the ones who rule over the other Amanto - they’re very high on the authority hierarchy - they wouldn’t have arrested and executed Shouyo if Shouyo was a Tendoshuu.
3. His relations Oboro had demonstrated nothing but the hightest respect for Utsuro. He calls him “Utsuro-sama” (Chapter 543 page 10).
While when Oboro referred to Shouyo, he never used a honorific which means they were familiar with each other, but Oboro didn’t place Shouyo in as high regard as he did to Utsuro. Also, while Shouyo was in prison, he taught Nobume, but in the recent fight Nobume wasn’t on good terms with Utsuro. It was Shouyo who taught Nobume humanity, while Utsuro chastised her for not killing Sasaki and disobeying her masters, and it was Nobume who told him that she has her own free will - unlike Shouyo who understood that concept clearly and in Chapter 517 page 11 said to Takasugi: “That’s fine… Worry and wander. You can become your own idea of a samurai.”
Utsuro also showed surprise at Gintoki knowing his sword style - which Shouyo would have known because they practiced thousands of times. Utsuro showed no sign of recognizing Gintoki - he showed no remorse in attempting to kill his friends even though Shouyo made Gintoki promise to protect them back then.
All in all, the only thing Utsuro had in common with Shouyo is his hair (which we don’t even know if it’s the same color or not) and his fighting style. That doesn’t define who a person is, and I believe that Utsuro is not Shouyo-sensei.
I can have a normal life.
And a tail.
And a boy in my arms, instead of a girl.
And a happy ending–even if it isn’t the ending I ever would have dreamt for myself, or hoped for.
In Rowell’s novel Fangirl, college freshman Cath is hard at work composing her final and most epic work of Simon Snow fanfiction ever- Carry On. This October, Rowell decided to give that fanfiction and the characters of Cath’s beloved book series a full length novel.
And it was AWESOME.
I adored Fangirl. Like I’m sure many of you have, I was immediately connected to Cath and the way she grew up alongside a fantastic book series- especially the strange fear and anticipation right before the final book is released. Throughout Fangirl, there were occasional excerpts from Carry On, the full length fanfiction that is the source of much blood, sweat, and tears.
Carry On is a whopping 517 pages. (Did Cath like, ever actually go to school? Or sleep?) In it, we travel to Watford, a school for young magicians. Simon Snow is entering his final year, and is on everyone’s radar- he’s the Chosen One, after all. He’s prophesied to duel the Insidious Humdrum, the mysterious enigma that’s been terrorizing the world of mages and magic. It doesn’t help that Simon’s roommate since childhood, Baz, is also his sworn enemy. And a vampire. And most concerning…missing.
Simon’s in for the most dangerous year of his life, but his magic seems to have a mind of its own. Powerful? Definitely. But like everything else in his life right now, it has a way of being inconveniently unpredictable.
“Jamie,” I whispered. “Please.”
His head turned slowly toward me. His face seemed still calm, though the cat-eyes narrowed further as he looked at me in silence. He reached out, finally, and one hand gripped me by the wrist.
“Do ye wish me to beat you, then?” he said softly. His grasp tightened hard, so that I jerked
unconsciously, trying to pull away from him. He pulled back, yanking me across the rough grass, bringing my body against him.
I felt myself trembling, and gooseflesh lifted the hairs on my forearms, but I managed to speak.
“Yes,” I said.
“I beat you once in justice, Sassenach, and ye threatened to disembowel me with my own dirk. Now you’ll ask me to whip ye wi’ nettles?” He shook his head slowly, wondering, and his hand reached as though by its own volition to cup my cheek. “Is my pride worth so much to you, then?”
“Yes! Yes, it bloody is!”
“All right,” he whispered. His eyes bored into mine, daring
me to close them, forcing me to hold his gaze. “All right. As ye wish it, I shall punish you…
"Never,” he whispered to me. “Never. Never another but me! Look at me! Tell me! Look at me, Claire!”
“Never,” he said, more softly. “For you are mine. My wife, my heart, my soul…
"My body,” he said
“Never,” he whispered to me, face only inches from mine.
“Never,” I said, and turned my head, closing my eyes to escape the intensity of his gaze.
A gentle, inexorable pressure turned me back to face him …
“No, my Sassenach,” he said softly. “Open your eyes. Look at me. For that is your punishment, as it is mine. See what you have done to me, as I know what I have done to you. Look at me.”
And I looked, held prisoner, bound to him. Looked, as he dropped the last of his masks, and showed me the depths of himself, and the wounds of his soul. I would have wept for his hurt, and for mine, had I been able. But his eyes held mine, tearless and open, boundless as the salt sea. His body held mine captive, driving me before his strength, like the west wind in the sails of a bark.
And I voyaged into him, as he into me, so that when the last small storms of love began to shake me, he cried out, and we rode the waves together as one flesh, and saw ourselves in each other’s eyes.