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“Ah, Iguro! I didn’t expect to see you here!”
The man in question turned his head, “..Rengoku. Likewise”
“I have just come back from a short mission, how have you been?”
“..I have been well. And you?”
Rengoku lets out a hearty laugh, deep from the chest, “Never been better! Say, would you like to come with me? I was just going to get some food, demon slaying isn’t the most satiating to me”
Obanai hesitated, Kaburamaru’s head going back and forth from him to Rengoku. While it was broad daylight and he had no plans, he hadn’t exactly worked up an appetite.
Then again, it had been a while since he and the other spent time together.
“Sure, I could go for a break.”
“Great! I know a place nearby actually, come on!” Rengoku gestured to him as he walked past, with Obanai following suit.
Obanai was comfortable in the other’s presence — he really was— but he was not fond of the idea of eating in public. It wasn’t a problem with Rengoku— he did take refuge with his family for a while after being rescued— but he never really ate in restaurants, or even with the other Hashiras for that matter.
Even with the ones who had seen his face; Kocho for routine checkups, Shinazugawa on one of their first missions together and of course Rengoku; eating in front of others felt like a whole other obstacle he was woefully unprepared to face.
Therefore, he assumed that he would accompany Rengoku; that he would simply indulge in light conversation as the other ate. It was a boundary he has made more than clear, and one that was thankfully respected by those who knew him.
“—and one sweet potato miso soup, please!”
He snapped back to reality once hearing Rengoku’s voice rather excitedly state his order. It sounded like he had ordered multiple items, nothing new.
“Iguro, would you mind waiting outside? I will pick everything up!” Rengoku beamed at him, with a thumbs up. Obanai would roll his eyes at the gesture if he wasn’t blinded by his smile, but he still complied.
He leaned outside the wall of the restaurant, the daylight for once pleasant on his skin. There was a cool breeze sweeping the area, making Kaburamaru curl up around his neck with his eyes closed. Obanai sympathetically patted his head, stifling a snicker.
He turned back to the restaurant, hearing Rengoku’s footsteps. It was a familiar sound, one he would recognise anywhere and at any time. What he did not recognise was the two wrapped up bento boxes the other was holding. Rengoku having a large appetite wasn’t new; but one of the boxes was pushed onto Obanai’s chest, who eyed him in confusion.
“Do….do you want me to hold this for you?”
“Hm? No, it’s yours! Tororo Kombu rice balls, you still like them right?”
“..I do”
“Great! So where shall we go, how does my estate sound?”
“....It sounds fine”
Rengoku’s estate was a homely place, befitting for who it housed. Due to their occupation none of the Hashiras really decorated their estates, with the exception of Kanroji as she imprinted her positivity and brightness wherever she went. Rengoku’s estate wasn’t much different, there were some trinkets sitting around on the cabinets, childlike in appearance. If Obanai guessed correctly, they were gifts from Senjuro.
Over the years Rengoku has seemingly accumulated a lot of gifts whether from people he saved or even fellow Hashira. Uzui and Kanroji in particular loved showing their gratitude through material things, Muichiro would often give something a tad strange but nothing too odd— such as an oddly shaped pebble, and Shinobu was noted to give small decorative items on occasion.
But he had digressed. They were now standing atop Rengoku’s engawa, facing the Sun which was beginning to set. It was as if the world was trying to imitate a fraction of Rengoku’s unbridled warmth. His colours painted the environment, bathing it in hues of red and orange. It would blind Obanai had he not been intimately familiar with it.
A hand tugged at his uniform pants, “Well, are you going to stand there the whole time?” Rengoku laughed characteristically, his legs dangling as he sat.
“No, I won’t. My apologies.”
Another laugh, “I don’t mind!”
They unwrapped their bento boxes, with Rengoku’s eyes sparkling at the meal in front of him and Obanai looking at him fondly. His hands still hovered over his own box. It was his favourite food — he was surprised the other remembered — and he hadn’t had a proper meal in a while.
Kaburamaru nudged at him, pushing him to look back at his companion. His companion, who peered at him with his head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. Obanai opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself but closed it right after.
He knew his nervousness was unneeded — Rengoku had seen his face before, multiple times even — but removing his mask was a daunting task every single time. His fingers froze everytime they were brought up for that one task, a reminder of why he wore it in the first place.
“Would you want me to help you?” Rengoku smiled at him, but it was different. It wasn’t wide and energetic, not full of the infectious joy he could not help but radiate. This time, it was a smile stretched thin, relaxed. This smile in which his eyes softened and his voice quietened.
Obanai was caught off-guard, gulping in a sudden bout of embarrassment. He hastily turned his attention from Rengoku’s face to his free hand, which was pointing at his own face.
He wanted to help him remove his mask.
Because he knew how much he struggled with doing it himself.
Obanai tried to scoff at how clearly he had been read; but it came out too hesitant, too soft. He sounded so vulnerable at that moment but it was fine, because of who was next to him.
“I’d appreciate it…” He permitted, albeit under his breath.
And before he could blink, Rengoku touched their foreheads together, barely apart. His eyes stayed focused on Obanai’s mask, unwrapping it so carefully one would wonder if he was made of spun glass. Obanai tried to move their bento boxes from their laps to the side, for they were at risk of tipping over the edge of the engawa onto the grass below. However, as he moved his hands, Rengoku rested his own free hand onto them as they now sat between them, Obanai resisted the instinct to flinch under the contact. Kaburamaru rested partially on Rengoku’s arm, still unwrapping the mask, he was a familiar presence.
Time passed far too slowly for Obanai, with the other’s hair brushing against his jawline and being a constant reminder of just how close they were—
“And done!” Rengoku sat back beaming, this time with his eyes closed. He turned back to face the view, while Obanai remained stock still. The mask fell into his lap and the breeze hit the lower part of his face, exposing the scar. He pursed his lips, not sure what to do, still facing Rengoku. He should probably eat.
Obanai picked one of the rice balls, somehow still warm. It was an item he hadn’t had for a good while, so he took a small bite. He noted how there were only three in the box, including the one in his hand. He never ate more than three of the rice balls at a time during the brief period he stayed with the Rengoku family, but most restaurants normally gave six by default.
Obanai sighed, in a way that almost sounded endeared. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. He found himself in a rather good mood— maybe he could indulge his colleague in some light conversation— though Rengoku beat him to it.
“You seem to be feeling a lot better, Iguro!”
“...Did I appear otherwise earlier?”
“No, but it is nice to see you smile like this. Some would even say you look charming!” And like clockwork, the comment was followed by a laugh though not quite his usual guffaw.
“Hmph. Charming is quite the exaggeration, wouldn't you think so?”
“I wouldn’t think so! There is an inherent appeal with your looks, obviously. But beyond that, you are quite the considerate man! I don’t see why one would think otherwise”
“.....You think too highly of me. Of everyone, really”
Rengoku tilted his head to one side with a drop of soup dripping down his mouth, “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? I trust you after all”
Obanai swallowed. Mainly because he had finished his second rice ball without noticing, but also in a rather sudden bout of nervousness. There was no tangible reason to feel that way, but there was only so much about his own being Obanai could control, if anything at all.
It still occasionally struck him as odd, how easily his fellow Hashira could look past his odd appearance and admittedly unpleasant demeanour. He felt uncomfortable when someone tried to break through the protection he had built for himself, he had always seemed like an animal on display after all. But he had learnt there were people who understood that, people who could be considered just as odd or intimidating as he was, people who could look past his unwillingness to connect yet still respect his boundaries.
It was a weight off his shoulders and he couldn’t complain.
Though the lack of weight could also be attributed to Kaburamaru leaving him for Rengoku.
Obanai pointed at the escapee on Rengoku’s shoulders, “Wow okay. I’m getting replaced? After so long too?” He bit down on his last rice ball, still glaring.
“Don’t worry, Iguro!” Rengoku patted his back reassuringly, “You’re too irreplaceable, though it’s nice that your snake likes me!”
“Yeah, nice indeed” He pointedly didn’t mention the ‘irreplaceable’ comment. Best to assume it was but a lighthearted off-handed remark, though the back of his mind knew it was beyond that.
“Say, how is Senjuro doing?”
“HMph?” Rengoku tried replying with his mouth stuffed, though nothing but garbled nonsense came out.
Obanai sighed, “How is it going with you and Senjuro? It’s been a minute since I’ve heard from or about him.”
Rengoku swallowed before replying, “He has been doing well! I still visit whenever I have the time.”
“You were training him, were you not?”
“Ah yes, I was. Though it seems to not be the path for him.” His voice lowered as he spoke, his previous energy being dampened.
“Why do you say that? Did he not want to?”
“It’s a little more than that. Senjuro has begun to lose hope, he says that he’s too weak for it, because his Nichirin sword has yet to change colour. I enjoy tutoring him, but it’s clear that he is less optimistic than before.”
“Ah, I see. I apologise.”
“No need. Honestly to me, it doesn’t matter what path he chooses to move forward, I will be behind him in full support!”
Obanai set aside his empty bento box, “He is fortunate to have someone like you by his side.” It was almost enviable, having someone like Rengoku as an older brother for it was as though he was sculpted and created for that role, even extending his kindness to strangers and coworkers alike regardless of whether they deserved it.
If Obanai had some he trained who ended up being talentless, he would not have half of the sympathy, even if the person was family.
Though he couldn’t consider himself the benchmark for the average individual, everything about him was tainted after all. Nothing could possibly stand next to the other man’s endless compassion, let alone Obanai.
Their world had begun to darken as they finished their meals, leaving them with the twilight and then the evening. Rengoku remained as the only show of warmth in the apparently endless blue and occasional twinkle of starlight.
Should someone ever ask him what it was like— being close to a person like Rengoku— Obanai’s first thought would be the Sun. There was no limit to where the man’s light would reach, nothing that he would touch would remain the same dark thing it began as, and even if brief his warmth could spark hope and life in what would otherwise be called dire straits.
As he stood he was the paragon of splendour— not in the way of materialism or overt flashiness— but in how nothing about him was subtle. There was no way you could ignore him no matter where you looked, he was loud and he’d let you know it. And there is a glow to his sound, as odd as that may read. Rengoku had always had that quality to him, he never let the harshness of the world dampen his optimism, not truly anyways.
Kaburamaru nudged Rengoku's face affectionately, who patted him the best he could. Obanai softens just a little more every passing second at the sight.
Though that would be where his comparison to the Sun would end, because Obanai wasn’t a child. It was a common thing, believing the brightest of people to be pure good, and pure strength. But Obanai knew better, Rengoku could never truly be the Sun and he was grateful. He wasn’t the Sun because you could get close and wouldn’t be burnt, your wings would remain in flight and you could touch him as you would any other.
He wasn’t the Sun because his light was not truly steadfast, no it never dimmed but it could flicker, and Obanai had seen it firsthand. Firsthand glimpses into Rengoku’s humanity, into his potential to fall.
If one spared him a glance they found a beacon of virtue, an endless source of light. If a Hashira, if Obanai truly looked at him, they would find a man. They would find a man fighting for his mother’s last wish, for the sake of his younger brother, to pick up where his deadbeat father left off. They would find a man with seemingly endless room in his heart with so much of it to give, so much to give and yet none to keep for his own.
The man turned to him, “I take that as our cue to get back to business?” and he smiles. A strange smile, Obanai would find, but comforting.
No one made a move to leave, neither really wanted to. The both of them have known each other a long time, intimate with the darkest depths of each other’s souls and yet, Obanai couldn’t really fathom what he was thinking.
Was it cruelly hilarious, or hilariously cruel? He had long since forgotten the difference. For what was everything to him but a massive joke? Given and then taken away, found and then lost, intimate yet unknown.
Obanai swallows the bile that formed in his throat “I agree, I believe I have been assigned a new mission as well.” He felt an odd twinge of pain in his stomach, a sign of worse to come , his family may say. He ignored it.
“Well then, best of luck! I’ll see you again soon” And with that, Rengoku is gone. Leaving Obanai in the other’s home. At some point Kaburamaru had slithered his way back onto Obanai’s shoulders.
“Good to know he isn’t taking my place” He told his friend while rewrapping his mask, who only hissed in offence. He went off on his own task, bento box utterly forgotten
———
Obanai walked past Uzui’s estate, probably living it up there , he couldn't help but think rather bitterly. The more rational part of his mind knew retirement was the only option, that losing a hand and an eye would render any Hashira unfit for battle. The death of an uppermoon was also a sign for change, and it was objectively an impressive feat even if Tanjirou and his lackey friends were involved.
But a small part of him found it irritating, how Uzui could now live a carefree life up in the mountains or something with his wives. While the rest of them continued their battle against demons risking their lives nightly, Uzui slept well with no worry.
Though even he knew that was a lie. He had talked with Uzui on occasion and he knew that he was a humble person, he probably wanted to continue fighting but simply understood how he would become a burden to the Corps. Uzui said it himself, that he imagined himself going to hell. He was not carefree in the slightest.
Though he digressed.
He sat down once again, miso soup set in front of him. His head hung low, not wanting to face what was in front of him, Kaburamaru nudging his face in concern.
“You know,” he opened his mouth to speak, “Uzui and those boys defeated Uppermoon Six”
The wind blows.
“Yeah. An Uppermoon. And apparently there were two of them, Uzui even made it out alive. Though he lost an eye and a hand in the process.”
A cherry blossom falls on Kaburamaru’s head. Ah, it had just turned spring. The scent in the air remained sweet. Another petal lands on the grave opposite him.
“He retired. Up and went. Granted I don’t know what the hell he’d do if he stayed. Would probably be a burden, if anything”
The soup remained untouched, The contents had begun getting colder.
“Another Hashira position left empty. Uzui said that Tanjiro is apparently worth considering, though not without more training”
Silence.
“First you, and now him. I know—,” he chokes on a breath, “—he didn’t die. But couldn’t you just stay ?”
It was foolish of him to ask. For many reasons as well, for one, nothing truly lasted forever and the word coming out his mouth rang hollow. And the more obvious point being—
Death stopped for no one, not even for the Sun itself. The Sun which had gone silent.
A letter comes for him, a joint mission with Shinazugawa.
The world wouldn’t stop spinning for but a second to mourn the dimming of its light, it seemed.