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A delicate moment, this. One that could burst, covering Ookanehira in an effluence of bad feelings if he gripped too hard. Or, perhaps, one that could lead to a chain of better things should he use the right touch: perfect inflection, a healing distance, a face trained to smile in the proper way.
He had always been good at doing things by the rulebook, but the guidelines seemed so vague and shaky here; Omokage, his one planning partner, wasn't very good at emotions, though excellent at anything to do with coordination and calculation. Tsurumaru would have spoiled it, and he refused to associate with Mikazuki as anything but an acquaintance - in short, he was basically alone.
Damnit, planning a first date shouldn't be this difficult. Especially because it was the second such first date.
Having realized that Uguisumaru did, indeed, like romantic afternoons together, Ookanehira had made it practically a religion to coordinate such things. Horseback riding through fields of waving wildflowers, trips to the mountains so the matcha-haired tachi could watch more exotic birds, a picnic by the beach: these were only a few of the many excursions that the redhead had developed to demonstrate his love.
He would ask Uguisumaru out at least biweekly, as if their relationship was newly minted and would be destroyed by one bad move. The butterflies that hibernated in his chest burst forth again; he found himself alight with excitement, blushing at every light touch, every tease. Of course, the matcha-haired tachi exploited this gangly shyness to maximum effect, which only drove him wilder until they ended the evenings like strangers mating on a one-night stand. Always fresh, always novel: he looked at Uguisumaru with new eyes every time.
All their dates felt like first dates, but this one was ... more so. It was the inaugural romantic evening since Uguisumaru had revealed the ugly truth of his time imprisoned. So, more than any date they'd been on previously, this one couldn't tolerate a single flaw: the Grand Champion of the East could not falter in such an essential task.
Not that he felt like a grand champion of anything right now, finding Uguisumaru absent from his usual spot on the veranda beside Kogitsunemaru and Mikazuki.
****
The two Sanjous looked up at him with those serene expressions that he wished he could wipe from their faces with his fists: something about their tranquility agitated him, like it was some judgment against his own nerves. It never bothered him with Uguisumaru looked at him so calmly, but that was different, of course.
"Where is he?" Ookanehira demanded, leaning in and tapping his foot; it was only twenty minutes until his self-imposed start time for this date, and if they dallied in supplying the information, he'd have to shake it out of them.
Usually the two might indulge in a bit of mockery, pretending as if they couldn't fathom who he wanted, but instead, both sighed and looked away from him, picking up their cups. Growling, he considered grabbing Mikazuki's collar, then decided against it by crossing his arms.
"Where."
It was Kogitsunemaru who spoke first, the Great Sword busily sipping his tea. Definitely brewed by Uguisumaru, given that he sighed in pleasure; no one else brough the sweetness of the leaves out quite like the matcha-haired tachi.
"He asked us to be discreet," the fox-eared tachi explained, almost apologetically. "Sometimes he needs alone time, you know."
"What the hell does that mean? He spends all day with someone: he couldn't possibly -"
"Uguisumaru specifically asked us to stay mum on where he was," Mikazuki interrupted, chuckling with hard eyes. "I suspect this was more so Tsuru wouldn't bother him, but I imagine the gag order stands for everyone."
Including you, those strange eyes said, though the Great Sword added nothing further and went back to his tea.
Okay, so these two were being useless, as they usually were. With a grunt that could have been construed as thanks, Ookanehira stormed off, thinking of all he'd done to beautify their quarters and imbue a romantic mood. Not one too heavy-handed - Uguisumaru was so skittish lately, and anything sexual would paradoxically turn him off - but a more gentle affection, one that would hint at intimacy but not demand. Awkward as it made him feel, he'd even asked Omokage to borrow Midare's flower language book so he could find the right arrangement: nine white roses, symbolizing pure and eternal love. Not that Uguisumaru would even understand the meaning, but it was the thought that counted.
But that wouldn't matter if he couldn't actually find Uguisumaru, coax him back to their bedroom, where soft instrumental music was already playing from a radio he'd borrowed from Tsurumaru and painted lanterns twinkled in every corner. Where the hell could he have gone?
Not the kitchen; Shokudaikiri assured him that the matcha-haired tachi had only stopped by once to refill his teapot. The infirmary was empty but for Yagen chastising Atsushi for harassing the baby tigers until one of them bit his leg. While Uguisumaru visited the sparring hall when he was assigned to fight, he didn't generally lounge about there, as tea was banned.
Had he ... maybe gone up to the Saniwa's quarters? Unlikely, but he might as well try. Cheeks flaring with embarrassment, Ookanehira slowly ascended the steps, and stood awkwardly beside the automatic doors as they ground open, only to reveal Asari and Camellia sitting beside one another as Hasebe dusted, the uchigatana glaring at the back of their newer master's head. Still hadn't gotten over Asari, then, which wasn't necessarily a surprise.
Both women looked up at him when the doors grumbled shut, each offering him a friendly smile, but they wrinkled their brows in confusion when he darted his head around the room before preparing to head back out.
"Ookanehira?" Camellia asked. "Are you looking for Uguisumaru? He hasn't come by."
Flattering as it was that the blonde would immediately know what he wanted, the redhead crossed his arms and scowled, now more preoccupied with concern for his partner than idle chatter with his masters. Nevertheless, he was beholden to them, so he grumpily flopped onto the couch in front of their long desk when Camellia gestured toward it, Asari shooting a look at Hasebe that told him to scamper.
Everyone arranged, Camellia pushed over a basket of butterscotch candies; Ookanehira wrinkled his nose and shook his head, disgusted with the saccharine butteriness of these gross American treats. These may be his masters, but he had his limits, after all.
"How is he doing?" the blonde asked as Asari pulled up the absent tachi's records, tsking disappointedly when she saw that he had not, in fact, completed the therapy that had been prescribed to him.
Ookanehira shrugged, looking away. It felt disloyal, in a way, to share any of Uguisumaru's problems without him present: the matcha-haired tachi had always been low-key, unwilling to disclose things except to those closest to him.
The two Saniwa shared a look of concern before Asari spoke, voice gentle. "We're only worried about him, Ookanehira, just as you are. Did you come here to talk about what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on," he grumbled, though it wasn't necessarily true, then raised his voice. "I was just looking for him: he wasn't on the veranda or anywhere I looked. Not to gossip about him."
Again the women glanced at each other, deciding who would speak; Asari broke the silence as Camellia looked at Uguisumaru's records on her own screen.
"It can be ... difficult for people to discuss this sort of thing, particularly Touken Danshi," she said, dark eyes warm and solemn. "But please, let him know that he has our full support. If he needs to stay off duties for a while longer - or if he would like to go in order to keep his mind off things - then that's perfectly fine. Whatever he needs, we will provide."
"And he can always visit with us," Camellia added, offering a sympathetic smile to Ookanehira, who grunted in uncomfortable acknowledgment. "I would be happy to listen to him."
"Yes, thank you." His voice was harsher than he intended, mostly because this was all just a distraction from the most important thing right now: finding wherever the hell Uguisumaru had gone and starting this long-delayed date. With that, he gave a curt bow and sidled toward the balcony door, down to the clear-cut field leading to the cherry blossom tree.
Back turned, he didn't see the two women shake their heads despairingly before returning to their tasks.
****
Clearly he wasn't in the citadel, so Ookanehira wandered the grounds, which were ripe with memories of his partner. The cherry blossom tree: Uguisumaru had scaled nearly to the top once as the redhead watched in apoplectic terror, eager to see a rare bird species that had made its nest at the top. Thankfully, he hadn't decided to jump down from that height; both the anxiety and the inertia of a hurtling tachi landing on him would have struck Ookanehira dead.
Passing by the stables, where Tsurumaru and Namazuo were exercising the horses as Omokage and Ichigo watched, he remembered the first time he'd seen Uguisumaru riding into battle. Kohibari, one of their fastest horses, wore rich golden armor that so perfectly matched the matcha-haired tachi; he'd looked so regal, so determined, leaning in close to his steed's neck as he steered him toward a Revisionist.
Many of the horses grew anxious and shied in battle, but Uguisumaru, like his best friend, had a way with the animals: Ookanehira was sure that he could ride one right off a cliff and they'd willingly charge forth. That time, he'd been so distracted by the breathtaking sight that he nearly fell off his own mount, Hanakōji. Of course his partner, so annoyingly observant, noticed and teased him about it when they got home.
But in that moment, all he could think about was Uguisumaru holding the reins with one hand as he leaned down and skimmed his blade through a Revisionist as one might dip an oar into water. So elegant, so easy: he made it all look simple, though Ookanehira knew that battle exhausted him in those pre-Kiwame years. He went anyway, even if it meant aching for days, because he believed in their mission to save mankind. A species who had never been kind to him before he manifested, but who he was made to protect.
Distracted by these memories, he didn't hear Tsurumaru calling after him, nor did he see Omokage's concerned look; he wandered like an automaton into the forest, reflecting on the many warm spring days they'd spent here tracking bush warblers. They were shy birds, heard but unseen, and Uguisumaru found great sport in finding their hiding places, crouching down and watching them for hours.
Maybe it was just superstition, but Ookanehira would like to believe that they always had such success in finding uguisu because they felt kinship with the tachi who shared their name; it never took them long to find a nest, where they would settle with snacks and observe the animals. Uguisumaru would watch the bush warblers, and Ookanehira would watch him, ribcage rattling with all the love he felt. His own uguisu, whose understated personality hid a beautiful melody.
Would they share days like that again? Would Uguisumaru come out of his psychic hiding place and pour his heart out to him like bush warblers spout their song? Or would he always come home to silence, an empty nest that only held a body and not a soul? He'd like to think he was coaxing his partner out of his shell, but this - the sudden departure from their routine, the mysterious disappearance - made him doubt that these last few weeks had been any relief.
Perhaps he was just seeing the things he wanted to see, imagining they were getting back to normal, when that wasn't the truth. The matcha-haired tachi had told him more than once that he was a bad birder because he didn't look at the whole animal before shouting out his answer: one must look at the coloring, the beak, the tail feathers, before identifying anything. If that were true, then he was seeing only part of the whole picture - that part that he wanted to see.
Sometimes his partner would accept an embrace; he'd tell himself things were getting better, forcing amnesia of all the other times when the tachi pulled back. When Uguisumaru complimented him, it wiped clean the memories of stormy, silent dinners, the matcha-haired tachi turning his eyes away whenever he tried to initiate conversation. He ignored all that bothered him, imagining boundless, beautiful springtimes in the thick of fall.
Yes, he wasn't very observant: terrible at sneaking up on anything, lacking a speck of tact. He was almost upon Uguisumaru, with his back to the rock beside the stream, when he even realized he could hear murmuring, almost overshadowed by the water's whispers.
****
This was rare too, then, Uguisumaru being so absorbed in anything that he didn't notice someone approaching. Obviously the matcha-haired tachi hadn't expected him, as he startled upon noting a shadow in the corner of his vision, immediately touching his belt for an absent sword.
Ignoring this gesture, Ookanehira came closer, relieved to see that at least his partner was wearing his warm winter coat. "Why are you out here by the water? It's so cold."
Uguisumaru shrugged and returned his attention to the stream; his cheeks were red, his eyes raw, but he said nothing, only bit his lip.
"Hey, it's alright," the redhead said gently, all thoughts of their date forgotten for the moment. "It's alright, Uguisu."
"No, it's not."
Another unexpected moment. All this time, Uguisumaru had insisted he was fine, that he didn't need to express any rage for something that was now past. He'd told Ookanehira, yes - basically under duress - but since that time, they'd barely discussed it, and the matcha-haired tachi had pretended as if the one conversation absolved him from ever addressing it again.
It was obvious to anyone who knew him that his spirit had shifted, just slightly, from the events: a sudden reticence toward affection, startling when someone brushed past, an increasingly insistent assurance that no one need worry about him that was rather pathetic in its intensity. Noticing did not give him any idea of how to handle it, though. Ookanehira had read everything he could find, memorized every symptom and suggestion, but he still wasn't sure how to put it into practice, whether it would feel artificial to spout language absorbed from therapy books or whether it would help. The guidebooks he really needed - one specially tailored for his beloved tachi - did not exist.
"You're right, Uguisu. It's not." Coming closer, Ookanehira put his arm out, much as one would when urging a nuthatch to land on their hand. Before, he would have clobbered Uguisumaru in a hug, but now he only offered, never quite sure whether his partner would accept.
To his great relief, the matcha-haired tachi nodded; he settled down beside him, arm still held out, and Uguisumaru tiredly leaned against him, accepting the embrace.
"Why were you out here?" he asked again. It wasn't really necessary to know, but he'd at least learned by now that more banal questions often served as a lever to crack his partner's heart open and hear more.
Uguisumaru sighed; his voice grew choked again. "The birds won't judge me."
Such a bizarre statement: Ookanehira blinked, looked out at the river, then up at the trees, where he could see some small sparrows nestled down against the branches, peering down at them. He certainly felt judged by their beady little eyes, but Uguisumaru had always been more of a nature lover than he.
Swallowing down what he really wanted to say - I wouldn't judge you either, and I wish you would talk to me - the redhead clawed at the edges of his consciousness for a better answer, one that wouldn't net him trite reassurances but no revelations.
"I understand. They -"
"You can't understand, Ookanehira." A vicious edge, one he'd never heard before, shut him up instantaneously; the wind felt colder, his jacket thinner than ever before.
The urge to rage and complain welled up in him: fury at being denied a moment of healing, the irritation at his wrecked plans for a date. They should be inside right now, Uguisu cooing over the pretty flowers and complimenting him on his good taste. He would present the dessert, and they would cuddle under the kotatsu, and maybe if he were good, they would finally roll into bed together, a desire that had consumed him happily quenched.
"I can't understand because you won't let me!" Almost instantly, Ookanehira felt a soapy sick regret, bile slicing up his throat. That was a horrible thing to say, really - one that certainly wouldn't get him what he wanted, which was Uguisumaru home in their room.
At least the matcha-haired tachi retained his calm, though his voice grew hard. "I don't think you really want to understand, though. I think you, like me, want to pretend it never happened and bury it all. So that you can get what you want from me. So you can take what you want."
****
Instantly, the fire of indignation blew out, replaced with a nauseating sense of shame. "I ...."
Uguisumaru pulled away from him, wrapping his arms around his legs; Ookanehira reached for him again, but the matcha-haired tachi scooted himself further, head turned to the side.
What the hell could he ever say to that? The concept that he would try to pull favors out of his partner like a sexual piggy bank? Especially after ... after that.
But he supposed that had been what he was doing. Following conditioning, expecting reward from a date, just as happened so many times previously. He'd wanted this to be a chance to reconnect with that old part of them, the one that found expression through physicality; he'd engineered it to be nonsexual, but there would still be an undercurrent, a silent demand. Much as he had tried to sterilize this expression of romance, he would be disappointed anyway should it not have the kind of happy ending he wanted so much.
"No, Uguisu," he said firmly, his own hands shoved into his pockets to avoid reaching out. "I will not take what I want. Never. I never ...."
After a long silence, the matcha-haired tachi spoke, voice small but even. "You're right. That wasn't very fair of me. I know you wouldn't take it from me. I very much know that."
The redhead brushed angry tears out of his eyes, refusing to look at Uguisumaru, who had now drooped into himself. "But yes, I do want to be close again. I want to be able to sneak up behind you and give you a hug, or kiss your forehead, or even hold your goddamn hand without worrying that I'm scaring you. You're very on and off lately, Uguisu: I'm afraid to do anything because I don't know whether you're going to be upset or not."
"I'm sorry," Uguisumaru murmured, but Ookanehira continued as if he hadn't heard.
"It's not just about the sex, you know. It's the feeling of knowing that you trust me never to hurt you - that you feel safe with me. And you're right, maybe I can't understand, but I want to. I want you to tell me what you're feeling instead of ... instead of coming out here and talking to some damn birds."
Ookanehira finally dared a look at his partner, who had dropped his chin on his knees and was staring out at the water, face contracted into a look of deep shame. "I can't understand everything that you're going through, but doesn't it mean something that I'm willing to try?"
"It does," the other tachi agreed quietly, then sat up and turned his head to him. "But ... I don't know, I don't ... it doesn't feel right. It's not fair to burden you with all this."
None of this was funny, but Ookanehira barked a bitter laugh anyway. "It's less fair to hide away from me like this."
When Uguisumaru stared at him, bewildered, he spoke faster, more insistently. "I want you to burden me with it, because it's not a burden. You're not a burden - your feelings aren't a burden. Don't ever think that. You are my partner, my soulmate. My everything. My absolute goddamn everything, Uguisu, and I'm offended that you would ever think that I would ever, in a million years, consider anything you tell me a burden. It hurts to hear it, because it hurts to know that you're hurting. But that doesn't mean I'll shy away from it or that I expect you to hide it away to spare me. I want all of it, Uguisu. And I can handle it all."
Shocked by the vehemence in Ookanehira's voice, the matcha-haired tachi only blinked, mouth parted and eyes wide. The world was muffled, the stream silent; the trees themselves seemed to straighten up, wind picking absently at the last leaves.
"I mean it all," the redhead mumbled, humbled by his own words.
After a pause, Uguisumaru slowly rose, dusting himself off, and offered his hand to Ookanehira, voice shy. "Let's go inside, then. Let's have tea."
****
His time to shine. Everything was perfect. He had plans - plans, and backup plans, and Plan Bs and Cs - to make this perfect. It was a more complicated decision tree than he had ever made for any battle, but this was much more important than any of those. This was a spiritual war, one to wrest his lover back from this dark hole that still had not receded after Uguisumaru admitted what had been done to him.
It wouldn't be enough to eliminate any sorrow: Omokage had told him repeatedly that he shouldn't expect a single date to fix everything, and, though reluctant to agree with such a pessimistic assertion, the research he'd done backed this up. True healing might take years, though it was certainly hastened by a loving support system - and the damn professional therapy that Uguisumaru kept forestalling, saying he'd get to it in time.
That argument could wait for later, though. Some other evening, he would address his partner's reluctance to pursue treatment. For now, he would focus on making the perfect batch of tea as Uguisumaru removed his coat, then wandered around their bedroom, admiring the lanterns and investigating the delicate flowers sitting on their table. Finally he came to a stop beside the dresser, where Ookanehira was watching the electric kettle as it boiled; he leaned in to look at the nondescript tea tin.
Such close proximity: the redhead held his breath, terrified to do anything that might startle his partner away. His hands trembled as he took their small silver teaspoon and began to scoop the correct proportions into his partner's favorite teapot, staring hard at the burbling water to avoid catching Uguisumaru's eye.
"This is a new blend, isn't it?" The matcha-haired tachi's voice was quiet, gaze focused on the collection of herbs. "Gyukuro, lavender, rosehips, passionflower, vanilla beans, and ..."
"Valerian," Ookanehira supplied shakily, silently impressed by his partner's ability to identify everything on sight. "And lemon balm."
"All good for calming the nerves." Picking up the tea tin, Uguisumaru sniffed it appreciatively. "Have you tried it yet? Is it good?"
Of course his partner knew that he would have tried it. They always tested any blend they made: multiple times, often, adjusting and notating as they went along to ensure it was perfect. He had done much the same, following all the rules that Uguisumaru had taught him, and would like to say that it was pretty good. With so many ingredients, he'd been perfecting this mix for days while his partner sat on the veranda; Shokudaikiri had even served as a second opinion, given that he refused to let his lover try it before this date.
It was idle, safe conversation. A way to reconnect. Apparently, he was not the only one feeling these anachronistic first-date jitters: afraid to push boundaries, speaking as if they barely knew the person they'd give their life for, regardless of the reason.
Much as he wanted to complain about the idea that he wasn't competent enough to taste test, Ookanehira shoved away the thought; maybe he was getting better at emotional intelligence. He had to, after all, if he wanted to regain his partner's favor.
"I did, yes. I haven't named it yet, though. I thought you could help with that." He dared to look up at his lover, who caught his eye and smiled. "You've always been better at that than me."
The electric kettle clicked off, and both tachis waited until the exact second it would be cool enough; Uguisumaru held the teapot up as Ookanehira poured it, then set the lid atop. As he carried it to the table, the redhead shut the tin and pushed it back amongst the others before following his partner and sitting opposite him.
"With so many ingredients, none of them are really dominant," the redhead explained once the tea had fully steeped, pouring a portion in Uguisumaru's favorite cup before doling it out to himself. He pushed it carefully across the table, where the matcha-haired tachi was busily sniffing the white roses. Had he done a good job with them? Was the intention clear?
After touching one of the flowers, the matcha-haired tachi picked up his cup and inhaled the steam, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yes, I can see. It definitely smells earthy, herbal, but with a bit of a floral, citrusy note. The color is nice too, that light pink from the passionflower."
As Ookanehira watched, breath caught in his throat, Uguisumaru finally took a small sip, holding it on his tongue for a moment before swallowing and smiling. "Oh, yes. You crushed the lavender to better bring out its flavor, which is great. The lemon balm is also a good touch. Not sure about the valerian; it's a bit too astringent, especially with the lavender. It also might have been better as a purely herbal blend; the gyukuro note gets lost amongst the other flavors."
This, too, was progress, even if it stung to hear the least bit of criticism about his hard work. If Uguisumaru were fully shut off to him, he'd give no feedback, only saying it was nice and moving on; being willing to engage with him, to suggest any improvement, showed that his opinions had emerged from whatever deep hole he'd stuffed them into over these past few weeks.
"I'll fix it," Ookanehira said hoarsely, taking a sip himself. Yes, his partner was right, as he usually was about tea. Adjustments were certainly in order.
"We'll fix it." Taking a sip of tea, the matcha-haired tachi averted his eyes, almost as if he were trying to soften the significance of his comment.
"Yes. Yes. We'll ...." He had to pause for a moment, clearing his throat. "I wrote down everything I used, all the ratios and everything. So you can tell me what to remove and what to add so it's better. Whenever you want. Just tell me when."
There were so many meanings to this, ones he couldn't bear to say, so he instead drank his own tea, telling himself it was only the steam stinging his eyes.
****
After a few manju buns, the two finished the pot together; the lanterns had clicked on in the coming darkness, and it grew hard to see his partner's expression from the diffused light. Black birds danced on the ceiling, their shadows fluttering any time the simulated candlelight moved, and Ookanehira hypnotized himself with them, mostly to steel himself for the one thing he was afraid to offer but wanted so badly to give.
The tea ran dry, the plates were empty. Should he take the lovingly enameled platters back to the kitchen, wash and return them to Kasen? It would break the ambiance, certainly, and Uguisumaru might take it as a conclusion to this uncomfortably wonderful date. He might return to find the matcha-haired tachi stretched across his own futon, which Ookanehira had left available to him so he could pick and choose when he felt ready for closeness or needed to retreat.
Many evenings, Uguisu plumped the pillows and settled down for the evening by himself, holding the stuffed bird the redhead had given him; it stung, certainly, but Ookanehira accepted it without complaint now, knowing that it was better to partially keep his partner rather than smothering him with love. It would change, hopefully, if he were gentle. If he showed how much he cared, respected any boundary that bounded up, and kept his hands to himself when commanded to, much as it hurt.
But tonight, maybe, he could coax his lover to perch beside him. The millionth time he'd touched him, yet also the first.
So hard to say these words, no matter how much he wanted to. Clenching his fists, grateful that Uguisumaru didn't take it as aggression, Ookanehira closed his eyes and gritted out his request, then squinted his eyes shut further, afraid of the reaction.
"If you're okay with it, Uguisu, I ...." he paused to take a deep breath. "I'd really like to give you a massage. A non-sexual one. Like our first date."
There was such silence, such darkness, and he squeezed his hands tighter, already near tears. But they dried before falling; his eyes flew open as Uguisumaru spoke.
"Sure."
Such a grace. Such a terrifying acceptance, just as urgent and frightening as the second time Uguisumaru had kissed him so long ago. He still remembered how he'd nearly shoved the matcha-haired tachi away from him, startled by the depth of his own feelings, before accepting what he wanted with an eagerness that bordered on pathetic.
It never changed, that giddy adoration, no matter how many times he felt it: never would, he knew. Before this sharp segregation, he'd initiated, again and again, crammed his veins full of drunken love, but it felt all the more intoxicating now - and they hadn't even touched. The mere agreement was making him shaky, hands palsied from excitement, and he looked away, glad the light was so low.
Without hesitation - mostly so he wouldn't retract his offer out of an all-consuming worry that he would do something wrong - he staggered to the dresser and pulled out a large towel, which he'd purchased for just this purpose so the massage oil wouldn't stain the sheets.
Uguisumaru rose and put the dishes in their washtub to be taken away later, then dumped the tea in a compost tin for disposal; usually they would get a few more steepings out of it, but he never let it sit overnight, and they'd surely fall asleep after this. Chores completed, he stood there awkwardly as Ookanehira laid everything out with exacting care, taking far longer than usual to calm himself down.
Once he was satisfied, he knelt beside the bed, then looked up at Uguisumaru, voice solemn. "Before I do anything, I need to ask. Is there anywhere you don't want me to touch you? Would you rather keep your track bottoms on? I could just give you a foot rub or back rub. It's up to you."
The matcha-haired tachi paused, eyes darting to the lovingly crafted lanterns as he thought. "Hmm."
"It's up to you, really," Ookanehira reiterated, hands out as if in surrender. "Or through your clothes. You don't have to undress. I just ...."
Gods, those damn tears again, that unsure voice. But he needed to say it anyway, vulnerable and pathetic as it sounded. "I just want to be near you, Uguisu. I want to make you feel better. All that matters is that I get to be here with you. I don't care about anything else."
After a long, agonizing reflection, Uguisumaru stripped down to his underwear and lay down on his stomach, eyes closed and shoulders trembling.
"Anywhere is fine."
****
He would start with the hands, working his way up to the shoulders and then down to the back. This was the safest spot he could think of, especially as if the matcha-haired tachi felt particularly jumpy, he would clutch the sheets or tense up, and he'd know to stop. With that in mind, he took Uguisumaru's right hand and began to work the fingers, gently palpating each joint and squeezing the stress down through the tips.
The only reaction was a long sigh of contentment and a gradual relaxation into the bed, so he kept going: up the wrist, to the slim forearm, then rubbing around the elbow and the inside of the joint. There was a natural twitch, one he knew as an involuntary reaction, so he kept going, and as he worked, he talked. It calmed his nerves, as speaking usually did; he, too, felt his heart rate slowing, his chest sloughing its stress.
"I remember our first kiss so clearly. I came home from sortie, and you were waiting for me in the repair room; I was just a little roughed up, nothing too serious, but you were so upset by it. Yagen took care of it, and then you insisted on escorting me to my room - we were still in separate rooms then, of course. You told me to lie down, and you covered me up, and then you made me tea. Even then, you'd filled my room with tea things so that you didn't have to leave. I think you were a bit flustered, because it didn't really make sense to get me all settled in and then tell me to get up."
"Yes, I was very flustered," Uguisumaru murmured, a smile in his voice. Having reached his shoulder, Ookanehira squeezed and kneaded, and the matcha-haired tachi stretched his arm out to better expose the spot.
"It always surprises me that you made the first move - not that I'm at all unhappy about it, of course. Maybe you could already see how much I loved you, because I'd given you massages and made sure you were always comfortable. I just hadn't gotten there yet; you hadn't really shown a lot of signals, and I figured maybe you thought I was only doing it because we're both Kobizen. Just to be nice."
Moving to the neck - a spot where he needed the utmost concentration so as not to press too hard - Ookanehira stopped speaking for a moment, holding his breath at this most vulnerable point, then moved to the other arm and continued.
"Anyway, I got up and drank tea; I could see you were nervous, but I didn't know why. We talked a bit, and you were quite quiet - but then again, you usually are. I figured maybe you wanted to leave and go back to your afternoon, so I drank as quickly as I could, which I think upset you, though I was only trying to be polite."
"Tea must always be savored." The tachi's voice was slow and sleepy, the massage working its habitual magic on all his tired joints.
"I know. I know that now. You drank so slowly; you were only a quarter of the way through by the time I finished. I told you it was okay if you wanted to leave and finish it elsewhere, but you insisted it would be rude. We were both quiet after that, and your teacup was shaking so hard you nearly spilled it. I wondered if you were getting sick or something, but you insisted you were fine. Then ...."
He smiled and rubbed Uguisumaru's elbow, savoring the thought. "Then you put your cup down and looked at me very seriously - I thought maybe you were going to lecture me for something. I was so nervous, especially because I didn't know why. You told me I should lie down and rest, that you'd handle the dishes; of course I agreed, because I always do whatever you say. So many people tease me about that, but I don't care."
"I like that about you." A light teasing: something Ookanehira wasn't sure would ever come again; he chuckled as he laced his fingers into Uguisumaru's, still so immersed in his thoughts. Just as he wanted this massage to last forever, so did he want to drink in every drop of this memory, one he'd reflected on so many times.
"So I lied down, and I covered myself up, and you fluffed my pillow. Then you leaned down and kissed me - a soft kiss, so fast. I thought I'd imagined it, that I was already asleep and only dreaming of what I wanted. You touched my cheek as you kissed me, and I stared up at you, your eyes closed for a few seconds. Then, just like that, you got up and took the tea things and practically ran away. I wanted to call you back, wanted to try again, but you were gone by the time I could even think of anything to say. Like a little bird flying off after being startled. So precious. So sweet."
A lull; he almost thought Uguisumaru had fallen asleep, so he moved back to his shoulder blades, knowing this was one of his partner's favorite spots. He kept working, taking extra time here, concentrated entirely on smoothing from the spine out to the sides with his thumbs.
Then he stopped, surprised, when Uguisumaru rolled over and looked at him, eyes bright in the darkness.
"Let me try that kiss again, then. Longer this time."
****
For a moment, he was sure he was dreaming, just as he'd believed that first time. Surely a simple massage, barely completed, couldn't lower Uguisumaru's barriers so completely that he would offer such a thing. It had been weeks now since their lips had broached one another's; he'd been too afraid to ask for it, the other tachi too absorbed in his own feelings.
The redhead almost wanted to say no, so terrified of a mistake that would shut these doors again. They could finish this, and Uguisumaru could rest again; it seemed he needed a thousand hours of sleep each night now, his mind struggling to process everything that had happened to him, but Ookanehira would never complain. He'd never refuse this, either, much as his conflicted body shivered at the thought of screwing up.
Seeing his trepidation, the matcha-haired tachi sat up; Ookanehira automatically scooted to allow him egress, realizing suddenly how significant it was that Uguisumaru had let him kneel atop him at all. Surely he must have felt trapped in such a position, where it would have been difficult to flee, but he had allowed it anyway, never flinched nor hesitated as the redhead worked on his joints. Perhaps this was a sign that they were closer to developing that deep relationship again - all because he'd actually listened to someone's advice for once and not come in swords blazing.
"Let me try," Uguisumaru whispered, hand touching his partner's cheek; his eyes were so open now, filled with the same look of adoration that had turned the redhead into an acolyte during those early first days.
He would never need to ask for permission: it was always granted, at any time or place. Even in the deepest battles, Ookanehira would have turned his back on the army should Uguisumaru suggest such a thing. It might get him a sword through the spine, but that wouldn't matter - only that he spent those last seconds with his tachi, the love of his life.
Leaning in, the redhead closed the gap between them, then pressed their lips together. So soft, so fast - so afraid of pushing too hard. One thing he'd always been much too good at, anyway.
"You can do better than that, Ookanehira." The subtle mockery felt so incredibly good in the moment, as it represented a slow return to normal: the teasing touch that both embarrassed and delighted him, keeping him subordinate as he always wanted to be.
Swallowing hard, he moved forward again, his own hand cupping Uguisumaru's nape, and made contact, more insistent this time; he felt the tip of the tachi's tongue push against his lips, and he automatically opened his mouth, his own lightly dancing against his partner's.
No need to breathe or move or think about anything, now that he felt this taste. Uguisumaru's fingers slid down to his shoulder, and then to his back, and he fell backward, both hands seeking Ookanehira's firm waist. The redhead swung his legs over his partner and moved closer, needy but still conscious of how this was as far as he would take it unless the tachi asked for more.
It was good enough: this twining of his fingers in his lover's tea-leaf hair; the soft murmurs of pleasure that he felt vibrate low in Uguisu's throat. In truth, nothing could be better, because it represented so much more.
Finally they parted, Uguisumaru's face pink and his eyes dilated. Ookanehira stayed as he was for a moment, just admiring his lover - the person he was so proud to claim. The tachi he was doublefold grateful for being here with him, with offering him even this.
"Much better," the matcha-haired tachi smiled, patting Ookanehira's cheek. "That's the Grand Champion style."
Hesitant and shivering, he unloosed his fingers and laid them instead by Uguisumaru's head, voice soft. "Do you ... want me to finish the massage? Or ...."
"I think I'd rather get some more kissing in. One can never practice too much."
So true: his favorite tachi was always right, after all. Just like those first days of their relationship, only with more experience and a bit less fear. Every kiss another milestone, another brand new start.