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The trek to the nearby village is a leaden one.
Less than an hour ago, Giyuu was chased off Sanemi’s estate by the outraged former Wind Hashira. He was thrown some irked snapping about not stepping near his place with ‘half-assed ohagi’ ever again.
With a troubled frown, Giyuu wonders if there was something truly offensive about the ohagi he brought. Although he did pull it out of his pocket, it was well-kept during his journey.
Sanemi has mellowed out after the final battle, his sharp edges sanded down to a more tolerating roughness. Even graced Giyuu with a slight smile once. Giyuu had perceived this as a good sign, that days of the one-sided heated arguments were echoes of the past.
The fiery animosity today proves otherwise. And thus he is weighted by a predicament, struggling against a stubborn knot that refuses to untangle.
Up front, Giyuu spots a new store. Its pristine unfamiliarity stands out among other shops. Spurred on by curiosity, he wanders inside.
It is a bookstore. As he enters he picks up the faint scent of paper and the freshly polished wood framing the shop.
The owner of the book shop notices him browsing through and approaches him with a smile.
“Welcome, young man. Is there something you are looking for?”
On instinct, Giyuu wants to say no. But something gives him pause. Sanemi, all thorny and thunderous with his face distorted with vexation, flashes across his mind.
“I want to become closer to someone.”
The shop owner's expression smoothens with sagelike understanding. “Ah, troubles of the heart, I see. Not to worry, I have just the thing.”
He walks over to a shelf and picks out a book with an unassuming cover. He passes it over to Giyuu, offering him a knowing smile.
“I hope this will guide you to form a meaningful connection with the one you yearn for.”
Like a sealed promise, Giyuu’s fingers close around the book.
Returning to his estate, Giyuu jumps into the book immediately. It gets a little flowery in the beginning, waxing poetry about the joys of forming lasting bonds with someone. Sparing that section a mere fleeting glimpse, Giyuu flips through it quickly to search for the practical parts.
He finds what he is looking for in the next section: to win over someone, there are a few practices one may follow to impress them and gain their favor.
Giyuu’s eyes sharpen with interest.
He spends the next day or two studying the book’s content in single-minded fervor.
Had he dedicated the same focus on the cover, he would have realized that the title reads: The art of love: an exploration in the expressions of affection.
Show your appreciation through a gift. A thoughtful and well-meaning gift can serve as a tangible gesture of affection, showing the person that you have been thinking of them.
Giyuu makes his way over to the village again. Walking along the bustling streets, he peeks inside every shop to discern the right gift for Sanemi.
Sanemi seems like a practical man, with little use for frivolous knickknacks. Perhaps some clothing for the approaching summer would be suitable. Giyuu gets some yukata and jinbei, gravitating towards varying shades of green as it is the color he associates with the former Wind Hashira.
As Sanemi seems unsatisfied with ohagi, Giyuu decides to buy fresh fruit instead. Even if he turns down sweets, it would be difficult to find a reason to refuse fruit.
Sanemi would probably need something to go down with the fruit as well, so Giyuu locates the nearest tea shop for some tea leaves. Only after getting the tea did he wonder if Sanemi has the kitchenware to prepare the tea, so he picks up a tea set for good measure.
It is a lot to carry in one hand, but Giyuu is nothing if not determined. He takes everything all the way to Sanemi’s estate.
After making his presence known at the gate, he hears aggravated footsteps storming towards him.
“Tomioka, thought I already told you to fuck off—” Sanemi stops short as his eyes fall on the wrapped up pile of items Giyuu is carrying single-handedly — quite literally.
“What the fuck is that.”
“Shinazugawa,” Giyuu lifts the bundle towards him, “I come bearing gifts.”
Bewildered, Sanemi’s eyes dart between him and the gifts in an exceedingly futile attempt to decipher the reason for this unexpected generosity.
Eventually he decides to ask him outright. “And why are you here with these…gifts?”
The homemade ohagi did not work out so Giyuu speculates him to be someone who would appreciate gifts that are more practical and well-packaged, is what Giyuu means.
“You seem like you are in need of them,” is what he says instead.
Sanemi bristles, jaw twitching from the sudden tension in his clenched teeth. “Fucker. What am I, a charity case?”
Giyuu blinks. “No, I—”
“Get the fuck out—again!”
“I have not passed through your gate. I am technically still out.”
“Then get out of my sight!”
This is not going as planned, Giyuu will have to rethink his strategy. In any case, he still wants to pass the gifts to Sanemi.
“Shinazugawa, I would appreciate it if you accept them. I would prefer not to carry these back.”
Sanemi eyes the massive bundle with wary caution, as if something dangerous lurked beneath the cloth wrapping. But when Giyuu refuses to back down in spite of his distrust, he relents and takes the pile in skeptical acceptance.
His shoulders tense with unexpected effort.
“Shit, this is heavy. You really carried it all the way here? With one hand?”
Giyuu does not see how else he would carry it. ”Yes. I don’t see myself growing out another hand anytime soon.”
Sanemi stares at him for a good few seconds. Then, he snorts. An amused smile plays on his lips - just barely, imperceptibly. But it is there.
“You’re pretty funny when you’re not pissing me off.”
Giyuu is unsure if it is meant to be an insult or compliment. So instead he moves on.
“Since you have accepted the gifts, I will be taking my leave now.”
Sanemi blinks. “Already? You’re leaving just like that?”
“Yes, I came by to deliver these to you.”
Sanemi regards the bundle in his hold in pensive silence. When he does not say anything else, Giyuu walks away.
A few days later, Giyuu hears someone knocking loudly at his gate. He is in the garden at the time, attempting to plant some new flowers in the soil.
He is not expecting any visitors, much less Sanemi who is looking anywhere but him. Hand on hip, foot tapping an impatient rhythm into the ground, he paints a peculiar picture of someone who is loath to be here yet has made his presence as commanding as possible.
“Shinazugawa, I was not expecting you.”
“Yeah, I probably should have sent word ahead, in case you weren’t in.” Sanemi finally turns to him, and falls quiet in shock.
“What, did you decide being a human was too boring and start living like a plant? Why are you covered in dirt?”
Giyuu glances down at his clothing, which is coated with soil and stray leaves. He did spend the morning on his elbow and knees in the garden, digging up soil and patting flowers into the earth.
“I was gardening.”
Sanemi levels him with a look of sheer disbelief. “You. Gardening.”
“Yes.”
Sanemi takes a moment to study him. Then, with a shrug, “I guess we all have changed, one way or another.”
Something rustles with his movement. Giyuu’s eyes flicker down towards the source of the noise and he notices a brightly wrapped box in Sanemi’s hand. Sanemi follows his line of sight and twitches, as if startled with a reminder that he has been carrying it all along.
Mouth pressed into a stiff, stilted line, he holds the box out to Giyuu. “For you. For the things you got me.”
Giyuu raises his hand to accept it but pauses when he sees the soil smudged across his palm and fingers. The cloth looks to be of fine material, he is reluctant to besmirch it with his unclean hand.
Sanemi does not seem to share his hesitance. With rigid insistence he pushes the box into his hand.
Giyuu cautiously takes the box, fingers tugged by a heaviness beyond the mere weight of the box itself.
“Thank you.”
Sanemi scoffs, though it lacks the usual bite. “Don’t say I’m ungrateful, yeah?”
Still reeling with surprised gratitude, Giyuu examines the box with the growing curiosity of someone seldom on the receiving end of gift-giving. He wonders what Sanemi has gotten him.
A breeze passes between them, rustling Giyuu’s hair across his face. He closes his eyes to prevent willful strands from getting into them. When he reopens them he realizes that Sanemi is staring at him.
“You—uh, you have some dirt—” Sanemi raises a hand to his cheek.
Giyuu mirrors his movement, but with his hand occupied he is unable to brush it off.
Sanemi sighs wearily and reaches for him. “Here—”
And cupping Giyuu’s face with one hand, Sanemi uses his thumb to swipe the soil off. His hand is a warm balm against Giyuu’s skin, touching him with a tender gentleness he would never have associated with the man. The rough pad of his finger glides a swift arch over his cheek. Giyuu instantly stills at the contact.
Sanemi catches up right after Giyuu in his dawning realization. Freezing for a split panicked second, he snatches his hand back as if scorched.
“...It’s off now.” He mumbles, withdrawing back to his state of minimal eye contact.
“Thank you, Shinazugawa.”
The silence stretches between them, uncertain and uneasy. Sanemi’s warmth lingers on Giyuu’s face still. If Giyuu could capture the mellow moment in a bottle, he would be rattling it in his hand in an attempt to recreate the sensation.
“I’m going to go.” Sanemi forces his words out. Spinning on his heels, he hurries away. Giyuu watches his retreating back until it fades into the distance.
Giyuu returns inside and cleans his hand before unwrapping the gift. It is a box of warabimochi, the light aroma of soybean flour wafting to his nose.
When he eats it, it fills him with a subtle sweetness. It is reminiscent of the delicate brush of Sanemi’s fingers. Idly, Giyuu grazes his own fingers across his face, right where Sanemi had touched him.
Perhaps his plan is off to a good start.
Express your admiration through words, such as a letter or poem. Words, be it written or spoken, can enable you to articulate heartfelt emotions towards a person.
Words do not come easily to him. Giyuu has barely scraped by in his regular conversations, he knows better than to put his literary capabilities to the test. He would rather not risk further offense of Sanemi’s eyes and state of mind with his experimental writing.
Giyuu’s pen is suspended over blank paper, unwritten words trapped at the tip, caught by the clumsy hold of his mind. With considerable strain he ruminates on what he should write.
Speak from your mind , he imagines Tanjirou telling him. Tanjirou once mentioned in his letter that he is glad to see Giyuu expressing himself more openly now. Perhaps that would similarly translate well in his outreach to Sanemi.
So he writes the first thing that comes to him. He thanks Sanemi for the warabimochi, and asks if the yukata and jinbei he bought fit him well.
Casting a thoughtful glance outside the window, he ponders over what else he can say. He thinks about the garden ( the soil, Sanemi’s hand on his face— ) and writes about the promising growth of his flowers.
He does not forget to include his admiration, which is the primary intention of this letter. He brings up Sanemi’s strength and resilience, his unwavering bravery and determination to protect people from demons.
He talks about Sanemi’s kindness, how he responds to Giyuu’s gifts with a gesture of his own, even though Giyuu did not ask for anything in return.
By the time he has exhausted his ideas, Giyuu realizes that he has filled up the page. Satisfaction stirs inside him as he marvels at the amount of words he manages to churn out.
Handing the letter to Kanzaburo, he gives his crow an encouraging pet before sending it off.
A day passes after that. Giyuu is reading through a letter he just received from Urokodaki when he hears his gates slam open with an abrupt bang.
“Tomioka!”
Sanemi’s voice, brash and bright, pierce right through the tranquil afternoon air.
Giyuu pushes himself onto his feet and walks over to the entrance, where he sees Sanemi storming over. He is heaving with exertion - he must have rushed all the way here.
“Shinazuga—”
Sanemi seizes him by the shoulder, grip firm with a tinge of desperation. He yanks Giyuu forward, frantic eyes sweeping all over him. Giyuu quickly steadies himself while remaining in Sanemi’s grasp, confusion swirling within him.
“Shina—”
“You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”
Giyuu blinks, owlish. He stares blankly at Sanemi, who is staring back with mounting intensity.
“Tomioka,” Sanemi snarls, “if you try to end your own life, after everything we’ve done…”
Giyuu’s brows furrow. “I’m not—trying to end my own life.”
The tense line across Sanemi’s shoulders abates by a fraction. “What?”
“I do not intend to end my life.” Giyuu’s mind whirls as he struggles to string the disconnected lines together, the thread of truth beyond his grasp. “Why did you think that?”
Sanemi parts his mouth, but the only sound that escapes it is a garbled stutter. It is the second time Sanemi has gotten up close to him recently. His eyes are blown wide, and in this shortened distance Giyuu can discern clearly the hue of purple in his irises. It is warmer than he thought.
“Your letter.” Sanemi blurts out, cutting Giyuu’s drifting train of thought. “You were going on and on about being appreciative of all the little things I did. So I thought—that you…
“...I thought it was your way to say goodbye, or something.”
Giyuu finally understands why Sanemi seems so frazzled. He had not realized his letter had come across that way. Words have never been his strong suit, though he would not have anticipated the nosedive it would have resulted in.
“I apologize. That was not my intention.”
Sanemi throws his head back with a drained sigh. “Asshole. I really should be pissed at you for your shit communication skills.”
Now that the moment of tension has passed, clarity gradually settles into the air surrounding them. Sanemi is still grabbing onto Giyuu’s shoulders, their faces mere inches away from each other.
Sanemi hastily lets go, refusing to meet Giyuu’s eyes. Giyuu raises his left hand to his right shoulder, the imprints of Sanemi’s fingers burning through his clothes and onto his skin.
“Thank you, Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi cocks his head with a peeved grunt. “For what?”
Giyuu smiles. “For being worried about me.”
Sanemi had cared enough, had been worried enough to rush all the way to make sure he is fine. Perhaps he is even kinder than Giyuu initially imagined - the revelation causes his chest to swell with warmth.
A flustered pink blooms across Sanemi’s cheeks. “Who’s worried?! Trying pulling that shit again, see if I check in on you the next time. I’m leaving you to rot.”
The barbed words glide off Giyuu like water over feathers. He merely smiles back.
Sanemi puffs up even more, seemingly seething. With a sharp huff and a snap of his sleeves, he stomps off.
Giyuu slips back to his room. He sees the book at his desk, and feels a sense of satisfaction at his progress.
He will send over some daifuku later. Hopefully it would be enough to appease Sanemi, smoothening out ruffled feathers.
Dress yourself up for them. Enhancing your appearance, even on occasion, can serve to make them feel more drawn to you.
Giyuu cares little for appearance. As long as his hair and clothes do not get in the way, it matters little how they turn out. The sole exception is his haori which he looks after with punctilious care.
He is not sure why making himself look better would help him become friends with Sanemi, but it is worth a try.
He reckons he needs some additional help for this.
“You want me to do what for you?”
“Help me look better.”
Tengen gawks at him. He swiftly regains his composure, rubbing his chin in smug interest. “Never thought there would be the day the ice slab that is you would come to me for a makeover.”
Before Giyuu can decide how to respond, Tengen leans forward into his space with a maniacal grin.
“But—this is a good sign! A spectacular improvement. And of course you would come to me, the god of festivals, for such advice. There is still hope for you yet, Tomioka.”
Giving Giyuu an intrigued onceover, he lets out a musing sound. “Though, I am curious. Why the sudden decision?”
That is an answer Giyuu can provide with little hesitation.
“I want to become closer to Shinazugawa.”
Something glints in Tengen’s eyes. Giyuu has the strange urge to shrink away from his attention. “Is that so? Then we mustn't disappoint him, can we?”
Giyuu is not certain what is there for Sanemi to be disappointed about, but he goes along anyway with a naively unwavering faith in Tengen’s judgement.
“When are you seeing him?” Tengen asks.
“In two days, in the afternoon.”
“That's more than enough time to prepare.” He snaps his fingers in resolution. “Come back in the morning, we'll get you ready for your date.”
“It is not a date.” Giyuu corrects him.
Tengen winks. “Sure, whatever you say.”
Giyuu chalks it up to his eccentricity and does not refute further.
On the day of his outing with Sanemi, Giyuu visits the Uzuis in the early morning as agreed. Tengen is already waiting for him, along with Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru.
Like a flock of birds, they descend upon him with rambunctious and chattery excitement. Pulling him into a room, they throw him a new set of clothes and told him to get changed. Once he is done, he is then whirled over to the dressing table. Giyuu barely has the chance to catch his breath when Suma settles on his left to style his hair while Makio kneels on his right to paint his eyes.
Giyuu flinches and resists the instinct to squirm. Tengen’s amused cackling in the background does not help.
Hinatsuru’s soft reassurances as she adjusts his clothes placate him somewhat. He is not sure how much time has passed, but he loosens with a relieved sigh when all three of them lean back.
“Take a look, Tomioka-san!”
Giyuu turns to face the mirror, and goes still at what he sees.
He still recognizes himself. There is hardly any change in his face except for the corners of his eyes. But the dash of red, dusted across porcelain skin, highlights the blue in his eyes.
His new kimono, though thankfully unostentatious, is a graceful blend of layered blues and grays. It is not something he would have typically chosen for himself, but to the stylish credit of the Uzuis it suits him well.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tengen pipes up as he steps forward. Giyuu watches him through the reflection as Tengen’s hand stretches up to his face while holding onto something pink—and slips it into his hair right above his left ear.
The three women behind them make varying coos of admiration as Tengen adds the final touch to Giyuu’s look.
A flower hairpin is tucked behind his left ear, framing the side of his face with light pink petals.
“You’re really beautiful, Tomioka-san!” Suma presses her fingertips to her mouth in awe. Next to her, Makio and Hinatsuru hum in elated agreement.
Giyuu ducks his head, feeling his ears heat at the sincere compliment.
“Don’t hide your face, Tomioka!” Tengen calls out. “We worked so hard to make you look flashy, you better not waste our efforts like that.”
Swallowing his hesitance, Giyuu lifts his head again, looking over the four of them with uncertainty.
“I look different.”
Tengen takes in the sight of him with deliberate scrutiny. “It’s not that different, you’re just not used to it. You still look like you. Perks of having a pretty face - you only need a light touch.”
“Shinazugawa-san won’t be able to take his eyes off you!” Makio chimes in.
Tengen sighs, almost longingly. “Gosh, wish I can be there to see him make a fool of himself.”
Giyuu does not comprehend why Tengen is so fascinated with Sanemi’s reaction, but he appreciates his help all the same.
A smile dawns on his face as he regards all of them. “Thank you.”
Seconds crawl past in silence as the Uzuis stare at him mutedly.
Just as Giyuu suspects whether he has misstepped, they all begin to beam back at him.
“Tomioka. We can doll you up as much as we like, but there is one thing that will make you look the best.”
“What is it?”
With a knowing smile, Tengen nudges his finger against the corner of Giyuu’s mouth.
“This. Remember to smile, and I promise you Shinazugawa will trip over his heels for you.”
Giyuu frowns. “But I don't want him to trip.”
Tengen barks out a laugh. Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru likewise giggle along with him.
“Oh, Shinazugawa,” he mutters with a gleeful grin, “poor man doesn’t even know what’s coming for him.”
Giyuu is almost an hour late when he reaches their meeting point.
Sanemi has his back facing towards him, leaning against a lamppost as he waits with an impatient tilt in his hips. He whips around when he hears Giyuu approach, face twisted with mild annoyance.
“Tomioka, you're late. Did you fall into a hole on your way—”
He freezes. Eyes wide, jaws slackened. He cuts himself short as he gawks at Giyuu.
Giyuu tries to mollify him with an apology while he adjusts his hair, unaccustomed to his hair accessory.
“Sorry, it took a little longer than I thought to get ready.”
Sanemi is still gaping at him. “...It's fine.”
Giyuu exhales, relieved. “Shall we?”
Sanemi nods, jerky and stilted. Giyuu turns and walks on, with Sanemi following close behind.
When Sanemi steps up to his side, he throws several glimpses at Giyuu. “You look…nice.”
The moment of truth. Giyuu’s chest clenches with anticipation. “Do you like it?”
Sanemi’s gaze sweeps across him, and Giyuu suppresses the urge to shiver from the sensation of his attention dragging up and down his body, like an exploring caress.
“Yeah.”
His approval makes something swell in Giyuu’s chest. “That's good.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Giyuu tilts his head. “Does it have to be?”
Sanemi considers him for a moment before letting out a light huff. “I suppose not.”
They duck into a nearby restaurant, one of Giyuu’s favorites. They serve the best salmon daikon in this area and Giyuu never passes up the opportunity to dine there.
It is as good as he remembers, though the last time was just a week ago. Giyuu is immersed in his own indulgence until he registers that Sanemi is, yet again, gawking at him.
“What is it?”
Sanemi blinks rapidly and snaps his head down to stare at his own food. “Nothing. Just—I haven’t seen you smile like that before.”
“Is it a strange look?” Giyuu recalls Shinobu’s remarks from a lifetime ago, a sardonic plea for him to face away from her when he smiles.
“No.” Sanemi disagrees. “No, it’s not. You should smile more.”
Giyuu startles, but Sanemi has already begun eating.
Throughout the meal, Giyuu notices Sanemi stealing glances at him constantly. He does not fathom the blossom-pink tinged in his cheeks, however.
No matter. Giyuu considers this another mission successfully completed.
Demonstrate special skills such as a display of strength or practical skills. By doing so, you reassure the person that you are someone remarkable, and depending on the skill someone capable of taking care of them.
Giyuu has been sitting on this for a few days. A couple of ideas brew in his mind only for him to wave them away in dissatisfied rejection.
Being trained warriors and having fought alongside each other in the final battle, though such days are left in the past, there is little need nor significance for Giyuu to display his strength. Having the same occupation and rank also means that they develop similar practical skills, Giyuu doubts any demonstration of that would impress Sanemi.
Roaming around his estate, Giyuu searches for inspiration in his surroundings. He flits between the kitchen, his bedroom, and even the training grounds. But the answer eludes him.
Eventually, he finds himself in his garden. The newly planted flowers are growing well. He has kept Sanemi updated about his garden, though Sanemi has not come by to visit since that eventful misunderstanding.
He does not intend to gift flowers. Not yet at least, lest he disrupts their growth. But the thought of giving them in some way strikes as an appealing idea.
Suddenly, he recalls his old haori, now folded and tucked away securely in his drawers. His well-cherished clothing, woven into its threads years of labor, dolor and care. In his grieving preservation of Sabito and Tsutako’s memories, the weight of a needle has grown familiar in battle-hardened hands.
Perhaps there is one skill he can demonstrate.
“You did not come carrying a mountain in your hand this time. Good.”
Muted relief flashes across Sanemi’s face when he opens the gate.
Giyuu smiles. “May I enter?”
Sanemi peers at him curiously. His eyes, previously sharp as a cutting gale whenever it lands on Giyuu, have tempered in recent times. It is more akin to a breeze now—inquisitive, lingering, awaiting.
Sanemi lets him in.
Giyuu holds up what he has brought. It is folded into a neat square, wrapped in a plain cloth.
“I made something for you. I would like to lay it out, can I use your table?”
“You know, I never thought you’d be the pushy type.” Sanemi remarks as he leads Giyuu further into the estate. “Give you an inch, you take a mile. I accept your gifts and now you’re barging into my house.”
“But you let me in, Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi stiffens and hurls an indignant glower at him. “You know what I mean!”
Giyuu does not, but he makes no further comment. He is brought to the kitchen, where there sits an empty table.
Placing his gift onto the table with deliberate care, he unfolds his mystery item. At his side, Sanemi watches him in interest as he unravels it.
It is a piece of cloth, large enough to be a tablecloth. Embroidered onto it are intricate floral patterns, bright threads stark against the dark base. It is not perfect, some stitches do not completely align together. But Giyuu has completed it to the best of his ability, especially with only one hand.
And it is not perfection he seeks, he thinks as he looks to Sanemi to gauge his response.
Sanemi steps forward, fingers hovering over the cloth as if hesitant to touch it.
“It is for you.” Giyuu says.
Sanemi swallows, and rests his hand on the embroidery. Gently, delicately, his fingers trace the patterns with a seemingly hypnotic fascination.
“You did all of this?” A hushed murmur, as if mesmerized.
Giyuu nods. “I did the embroidery, yes. I based the design off the flowers in my garden.”
Sanemi’s gaze lifts from the cloth to him.
“The flowers from your garden, where you live.”
Giyuu nods.
“And you’ve put them here. For me, my house. Where I live.”
Giyuu nods, albeit slower this time. He does not comprehend Sanemi’s emphasis, but he agrees regardless as it is the truth.
Silence stretches as Sanemi continues to stare wordlessly at him. Unused to such quietude from him, Giyuu searches his face for clarification. But in it reflects an emotion he lacks the means to decipher.
Sanemi blinks, and the mystery expression fades into something more neutral. “Okay. Well, thank you. It’s very thoughtful.”
Giyuu feels his heart leap. “I am glad you like it.”
Glancing down at the cloth, Sanemi brushes his thumb over an embroidered petal. Giyuu feels the side of his face tingle, right where Sanemi had previously touched him with comparable tenderness.
“Since you’re here, might as well stay for dinner.”
Giyuu straightens. “I would not want to impose.”
Sanemi clicks his tongue, though it lacks the edge as he is wont to do nowadays. “Since when do you care about manners? And I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it. Stay, or don’t. It’s up to you.”
Giyuu considers it, though internally he has already arrived at an instantaneous answer. “I will stay.”
Sanemi’s eyes soften as a light smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Okay.”
Engage in an activity that is of both your interests. An opportunity to create meaningful memories with them will bring you closer together.
Tengen’s crow sails into his line of sight when Giyuu’s mind begins to buzz from exertion. He has been mulling over what constitutes an activity that is interesting for them, but fails to come up with anything worthwhile.
The crow brings with it two invitations to a hot spring, as well as a letter from Tengen telling him to enjoy it with his besotted one. Giyuu is not entirely certain what he means by ‘besotted’, but he assumes he is referring to Sanemi.
Just another display of eccentricity, he supposes. Despite not always existing on the same wavelength, Giyuu appreciates Tengen’s own attempts to connect with him.
Giyuu extends the invite to Sanemi, and they agree to go together three days from now.
The hot spring, they gradually realize upon arrival, does not host many patrons. Judging from the exquisite interior, Giyuu surmises this is meant for a more exclusive circle of visitors than a wider public.
Once he has washed up, he heads over to the open-air bath. Sinking into the water, he releases a low sigh as he is enveloped by a soothing warmth. His muscles begin to relax and he leans back to stare up at the clear night sky.
Sanemi slips in after him, sitting an arm’s length of distance away.
“It’s nice tonight.” Sanemi murmurs, the lull in his voice as tranquil as the water they are soaked in.
Giyuu nods. “It is good to have this place mostly for ourselves. I’m relieved this is not a mixed hot spring.”
Sanemi side-eyes him. “What, afraid of being naked in front of women?”
“It is not that. I just would rather not go to a hot spring with the Uzuis again.”
There is a pause.
“Wait, again ?”
“Uzui invited me to join his family at a hot spring. I did not realize it was a private one with just the five of us together.”
He hears Sanemi sputter and he turns to him in concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I—” Sanemi struggles to catch his breath, “I’m fine. Fucking great.”
Confused but deciding to take his reassurance at face value, Giyuu resumes narrating his story. “I tried to stay at the far side while they soak, but they were insistent on pulling me back. Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru were kind enough to be gentle about it. Uzui practically had his hand all over me.”
Sanemi chokes and doubles over.
Giyuu’s brows etch into a troubled frown. “Are you sure you are fine?”
“Fucking—what did Uzui try to do, that bastard?” Sanemi glares at him, face twisted into a displeased grimace.
“He just thought I was too far away and he couldn’t hear me well enough. So he kept pulling me closer to where he and his wives were.”
“You know that Uzui has exceptional hearing, right?”
It had slipped his mind back then, in the midst of all the fumbling. “I was…distracted.”
“Sure you were.” Sanemi grumbles and swivels away with a sharp huff.
It is consoling to Giyuu that Sanemi is as perturbed by the experience as he was. Social interaction is foreign territory for him, and when he is with company who are not exactly the standard representations of typical socialization, he has little ground to measure off and calibrate from.
“As hospitable as they were, I would rather not go through it again. It was stressful. I like this better.”
Sanemi turns back to him. “This?”
“Here, just the two of us.” Giyuu sinks deeper into the water with a serene smile.
Sanemi grows quiet. This has been occurring more often lately, Giyuu realizes. But he has slowly gotten accustomed to these pockets of silence.
“You should really be careful of the things you say, Tomioka.”
Giyuu glances at Sanemi, who is wearing an unreadable expression as he stares off into the distance.
“What do you mean?”
Sanemi’s eyes flicker to him. There is an intensity in them, glinting with a heat that Giyuu suspects does not come from the water they are in.
“Your words have more of an effect than you think, is all I’m saying.”
Giyuu hopes that is not a bad thing, but he decides it is safer to not speak for a short while. The remainder of the night goes rather uneventfully.
When Giyuu asks Sanemi if he would like to do this again, he seems open to the suggestion. He has a peculiar request for Giyuu to inform him if Tengen ever invites him again, however.
At any rate, meaningful memories have been created. Giyuu takes this as yet another win.
Giyuu has followed the advice as suggested in the book. Though he is glad that it has helped bring him and Sanemi closer together, a new complication has arisen. And he is at a loss of how to manage it.
His heart races at the thought of Sanemi now. Whenever the image of Sanemi crosses his mind, his chest tightens, rendering him breathless.
It is an affliction most inconvenient. Is this what it is like to have a friend? He does not recall being troubled by such sensations with Sabito, when they were growing up together. Nor does he feel that way with the Uzuis.
Especially not with the dreams that begin to haunt him every night.
The untameable depths of his subconscious conjure Sanemi in his dreams. They usually start off vague, smears of white hair and blurs of lilac eyes. But even with the hazy fog in his dreams, Giyuu feels warm calloused hands running up his back, caressing his face.
The hand that had brushed dirt off Giyuu’s face — his traitorous mind starts to spin delusions of its salacious ventures, trailing past his neck to his chest, where roaming fingers map along the contours of it.
It then glides past his abdomen, a coy tease. Firm fingers would then close around his hip, kneading rough fingertips into yielding flesh.
And then, knuckles skate past his hip bones, setting his skin alight along its wandering path. Press into the velvet of his inner thighs, and with purpose the fingers reach out to a place no one has ever touched and—
Giyuu startles awake. A searing heat simmers just beneath the surface of his scorching skin. He blames it entirely on the summer heat, reducing his mind to a feverish, delirious mess.
Like all his other troubles, he meditates them away, letting them wash over and off of him. The fire does not always ebb away, and when it stays it dwells like a lingering itch, a tormenting reminder.
Then one day, Sanemi’s crow swoops into view, clawing onto the windowsill with a message from its master.
There is a tanabata festival in a few days, and Sanemi would like Giyuu to come with him.
Giyuu’s breath catches, taken by surprise at Sanemi’s unusual initiativeness. But he rakes in his enthusiasm and lets Sorai relay his acceptance.
Leading up to the festival, Giyuu takes cold baths to counter the sticky summer heat, in hopes it would chase away the strange dreams by the time they meet.
Instead, he dreams of stars in Sanemi’s eyes and the crescent of his smile.
On the evening of the festival, Giyuu heads out early and waits for Sanemi at the bridge.
Faint sound of footsteps draws closer. Giyuu turns and stills at the sight.
Sanemi stands before him, dressed in the yukata that Giyuu had bought for him. The shade of green, dark like evergreen leaves at dusk, softens his silhouette. He wears it far better than Giyuu imagined.
“Hey,” Sanemi greets him, “did you wait long?”
Lacking the faith in his own tongue from revealing heartfelt thoughts, Giyuu shakes his head.
Sanemi cracks a small smile. “Good. Let’s go then.”
They head to the festival together. It is filled with bright decorations and enthusiastic folks of all sorts. As night descends upon them, it gets increasingly crowded the further they walk. Giyuu ends up bumping shoulders with Sanemi several times trying to manoeuvre through the throng of people.
Mumbling an apology, he shifts to allow a wider berth between them.
Only for Sanemi to tug him back into his space. Fingers encircled firmly around Giyuu’s elbow, Giyuu feels the heat of his palm even through his sleeve.
“Don’t wander off. Wouldn’t want to get separated.”
Sanemi leans into his space to make himself heard. His words soar over Giyuu’s head. All Giyuu registers is the barely-there distance between Sanemi’s mouth and his own ear.
Close. They have never been this close before.
They eventually reach some bamboo with colorful paper strips hanging off them.
“You wanted to make a wish?” Giyuu wonders out loud to drown out the tingle coursing through him.
Sanemi hums non-commitally. “Not really. It’s not my thing. And the things I truly wish for aren’t really something I can put on a paper for everyone to see.”
“Like what?”
“Like the eradication of demons.”
Giyuu supposes he is right. It would be strange to put that on a tanzaku.
“But demons are no more. Do you not have another wish?”
Sanemi turns to him. His eyes linger on Giyuu’s face. His mouth parts and closes again.
“I do, but it’s not something I can put up there either.”
Giyuu tilts his head in questioning, but Sanemi does not elaborate.
They continue their way, observing the festival as the night goes on.
Giyuu is about to suggest looking for something to eat when he feels a drop on his face. Peering up at the night sky, he feels more droplets landing on him as it starts to rain.
Surprised yelps burst out around them as everyone scrambles for shelter. Giyuu is jostled from the back and he hastily attempts to regain his balance.
An arm curls around his waist, steadfast and sure.
“What did I say about not getting separated?” Sanemi reminds him, his mouth a whisper’s distance away from Giyuu’s. His tone is soft, almost fond.
Giyuu fails to stifle the shudder that skitters up his body. He is almost certain Sanemi feels it too.
He lets himself be pulled along as they quickly seek refuge from the rain. By the time they huddle under the roof tiles of a closed shop, their surroundings are enshrouded by pouring curtains.
They will likely be here for a while. Giyuu flicks the rain off his clothes before more of it soaks into the fabric.
Sanemi reaches over to brush the excess water off his hair. The tips of his fingers graze Giyuu’s ear, and Giyuu feels it warm at the contact.
The rain descends relentlessly, a sequestering veil between them and the rest of the world.
Giyuu gazes out into the rainy abyss. Amber spots glow through the misty layers, the lampposts the sole reminder that there still exists a world out there. “It's a shame that it rained now.”
Sanemi shrugs. “It'll clear up soon.”
“Once it stops raining, I was thinking we could get something to eat.”
“Yeah, I was getting hungry anyway.”
Giyuu smiles. Sanemi has grown increasingly agreeable to his suggestions, indulging him whenever he can. He truly is a very kind person.
“What are you smiling for?”
“It’s nothing. I'm just glad to be here with you. Thank you for coming out tonight and spending time with me. ”
Sanemi balks at him. “What's with you all of a sudden?”
Giyuu shakes his head. “Nothing. It's just—the past few occasions of us together, I was thinking about them. I truly enjoy being with you. I'm grateful for the chance to know you better.”
There is only silence from Sanemi. Giyuu turns back to him, wondering about the lack of reaction.
Only to come face to face with Sanemi who is standing much, much closer. Closer than he has ever been, closer than when he held onto him at the festival.
Sanemi gazes at him, eyes half-lidded yet glowing brighter than the distant lights.
Giyuu blinks. “Shinazugawa…?”
Sanemi raises a hand to his face, resting featherlight fingers on the side. Right where he had touched him. Right where Giyuu had dreamed of him touching.
“Tell me if I'm misunderstanding this.” His words come out as a whisper, as if any louder would break him out of his trance.
Giyuu does not know what he means, and therefore does not know what he would be misunderstanding. So he stays quiet.
Sanemi searches for an answer in his eyes. He seems to have found it, for he leans even closer, slips his eyes shut—
And presses his lips against Giyuu's.
Giyuu stills. His breath halts. A statue, frozen in time.
And yet, he remains alive. The warmth in Sanemi’s mouth anchors him, tethering him to this moment.
But then, Sanemi pulls back. His hand lowers from Giyuu’s face, and the chill from the misty night seeps back to his skin.
“Guess I did misunderstand,” he says quietly.
Giyuu still does not know what he means. But what he does know is that he sees the dull detachment in Sanemi’s eyes and he aches to chase the sorrow away. Especially if he is the reason for it, ignorant as he is to why.
“Was I supposed to do something?”
Confusion crosses Sanemi’s features. “Well, you were supposed to kiss me back. But only if you want to.”
Giyuu blinks. Once. Twice. “That was a kiss?”
“You don't know what a kiss is?” The perplexity etched onto Sanemi’s face only deepens.
“I—” Giyuu retorts on instinct, only to realize his mind is drawing a blank, “I guess not.”
Sanemi stares at him in disbelief, then snorts loudly.
“Of course I'm hopeless for an idiot like you.”
Giyuu tilts his head. He remains a little lost at what Sanemi is implying, but there is one thing he is certain of.
“Can you do it again?”
Sanemi chokes on his surprise. “What?”
“The kiss. Do it again.”
“And you'll kiss me back?”
Giyuu nods, resolute.
Sanemi lets out a light huff. Even under the dim illumination of the night, his eyes gleam bright. Giyuu cannot look away.
Fanning his fingers along the line of Giyuu’s jaw, Sanemi leans in again.
And this time Giyuu kisses back.
This was not the intended outcome when he first picked up the book, Giyuu thinks idly as he is tugged into Sanemi’s embrace by the waist. But as his mind slowly melts with every drag of Sanemi’s mouth against his, one thought rings true — he would do it again, and again. If only to be graced with the gentlest of touches from the man before him, he will do it all over again.
Outside, the rain continues to pour. When it eventually stops, the night sky clears, revealing a bridge of stars scattered across the dark canvas, shining like lights leading the way back home.