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There were few things as calming as Akaza’s hands in Kyojuro’s hair.
Months ago, that would have been a ridiculous statement. Months ago, Akaza had been the biggest source of stress in Kyojuro’s life, which was… really rather impressive, all things considered.
But not now. Not after so much had changed between them.
Akaza had gone from the biggest source of stress, a point of fear and anxiety and hurt and anger, to someone he found a deep and overwhelming comfort in.
Kyojuro was not quite sure when doing his hair had become a part of their routine, but he appreciated it all the same. He could admit that he probably didn’t take the best care of it. Sure, he brushed it and washed it enough for the sake of cleanliness, to be presentable, but did little more than that. He didn’t take the time to style it, like Mitsuri or Shinobu did, with their braids and hair pins. There was a reason for that, but not one he’d ever liked to think about or consider before…
But Akaza’s presence recently had begun to make him relax more than he ever had in the past.
Soft brushes nearly had him dozing off, and in any other circumstance, he might let himself. It was late, Akaza had his hands in his hair, it was warm, just the two of them in this inn… Truly, there was no better way to doze off.
But tonight… tonight he thought that he might…
“Do you want me to pull it back?” Akaza asked.
Kyojuro hummed and shook his head. “No, not tonight.”
“Okay.” Despite the fact that the tangles had long been worked out, those deft fingers continued combing through the locks of hair.
Kyojuro did not mind when Akaza styled his hair, because Akaza never pulled it back in those feminine hairstyles he remembered from his childhood, from the few times Mitsuri had asked to help with his hair with a bright smile on her face. He did not dislike those moments, and he wished he had treasured those moments with his mother more at the time, valued the work she put into his hair, rather than hating what she did to it but not knowing why. He wished he could enjoy Mitsuri wanting to style them in a way that matched, but…
“You’re quiet tonight,” Akaza remarked. “Something on your mind?”
“Not much,” Kyojuro lied.
Though his fingers stilled for a few seconds, he didn’t press, and soon resumed the rhythmic touches.
After a few more moments of what should have been comfortable silence (and perhaps for Akaza, it was), Kyojuro took a deep breath. “Akaza…”
“Yes?”
“You have said you do not fight women.”
“No, I do not. Why are you asking about this?”
“You… fought me. You… were going to kill me, when we met,” Kyojuro said.
Akaza’s fingers slipped from Kyojuro’s hair. “Yes… I was.”
“Why?”
Behind him, Akaza shifted, and a gentle hand landed on Kyojuro’s shoulder. A slight nudge followed, a request to turn and face him for this conversation.
Kyojuro was not sure he wanted to do that, but it was, perhaps, only fair to face Akaza for what he was about to confess.
It was not a conversation Kyojuro could avoid forever (or at least it was not one he wanted to avoid forever, despite what he told himself), and Akaza… Akaza seemed to be the best option he had for the first time he actually did this. Kyojuro had considered Senjuro a few times over the years, perhaps Mitsuri, but the few times he had tried, he just hadn’t been able to follow through.
But Akaza… Surely it would be easier. Even though they had become close, if Akaza did not take it well… Perhaps it would hurt less than if he faced rejection from his brother or his best friend.
Akaza did not fight women, and Akaza had fought him. So Kyojuro… He couldn’t help but hope…
Hope that—
“Can you look at me?” Akaza requested.
Kyojuro turned, too slowly, and still would not meet the demon’s eyes. His gaze lingered on Akaza’s chest, tracing the patterns of tattoos, as if that would halt or distract from the conversation he had decided to initiate.
“Why are you asking?”
Kyojuro tried to swallow, but it was as if all the saliva in his mouth had dried up. “I—Well, I—”
“I don’t fight women,” Akaza said, like that answered everything, like that was all the explanation Kyojuro needed. “That has been true for as long as I can remember.”
“But I am…” Kyojuro took a shaking breath. “I am a—”
“I don’t fight women,” Akaza said. “What else would you like me to say?”
“You agreed to be with a woman,” Kyojuro forced out, because that had been what he was truly scared of, when it came to admitting this to Akaza. This relationship was still so new, and perhaps it stood no chance of lasting, but he did not want to cut that shorter than necessary due to this, because he had grown so, so tired of hiding this and pretending he was something he wasn’t. Of trying to convince himself he was something he wasn’t.
Cool fingers tilted his chin up, forcing him to look Akaza in the eye.
“I agreed to be with you,” he said.
“But—”
Akaza shook his head. “We don’t have to do this now, if you’re not comfortable with it. But you brought it up…” His lips curled up, teasing. “I thought maybe you were ready to talk about it.”
Kyojuro’s eyes widened, as he realized what Akaza implied, what he had been implying.
I don’t fight women.
“You knew…?” he rasped. “How? How?” It wasn’t that Kyojuro went out of his way to be feminine (in fact, he rather avoided it), but he was no fool. He knew what he looked like, what he sounded like, and he did nothing too obvious when it came to being masculine, lest his father catch onto anything and not approve.
“I can see your fighting spirit, your soul, I knew the moment I looked at you, but it became… rather apparent that it was not something you wanted to acknowledge or talk about the longer I was around you,” Akaza said. “So I didn’t say anything.”
“But—”
“Of course—” Akaza turned his palm up. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize I knew before now. I told you I didn’t fight women, and I have never once referred to you as if you were a woman.”
Questions and protests died in Kyojuro’s throat, a slight frown twisting as he thought about it and realized that it was true. He had not once, not ever, heard Akaza refer to him in any way that was even slightly feminine. Of course, he’d never been so brazen as to call Kyojuro a man, he definitely would have noticed that, but…
He never referred to him as anything.
His cheeks burned as he ducked his head. “I… You—” Gods, how had he never noticed Akaza knew? In retrospect, it made sense.
Akaza’s smile was as sharp-toothed as ever. “What should I call you, love?”
Though it was wobbly, Kyojuro managed to return the smile. “Kyojuro,” he said, introducing himself with the name he had chosen years ago for the very first time, and as the name left his mouth, it felt as if something tight in his chest had finally uncoiled. “My name is Kyojuro.”
“Kyojuro,” Akaza purred. “It’s nice finally being able to use your name.”
Something deep inside him shifted, and Kyojuro’s smile brightened as a blissful euphoria washed over him. “It feels nice being called my name!”
So… very nice.
Akaza leaned in to brush his lips with a soft kiss. “Thank you, for trusting me with this, Kyojuro.”
Kyojuro hummed and let himself fall against him, nestling himself into his chest.
The demon’s hands found their way into his hair again, and Kyojuro drifted off, the sound of his name still on Akaza’s tongue.