The first thing Senjuro felt when he woke up was his father’s scent, softer than he had ever felt it showering over him like a warm comforting blanket. He felt safe in his father’s presence and it was both bizarre and exhilarating. As he opened his eyes he also found Giyuu sitting by his side and he remembered the fight and all those feelings he had harvested in what he thought would be his final moments.
The pain that made his whole body throb did little to nothing to stop him from crying his heart out, almost choking on it. Senjuro stretched his arms out, not really caring to hide his tears, his desperation, his fear. He even sat up to hug Giyuu with all the strength he had left, which, to be completely honest, was not much.
Giyuu sit still for a moment, not really sure of what would the best way to proceed, but after a while he relaxed in the embrace and hugged Senjuro back softly, so softly that his hands were barely touching the small back, caressing tender circles and allowing him to cry into his shoulder. It was not the first time Senjuro cried in front of him and it was not the first time he hugged him but physical contact was something Giyuu had always struggled with and, even when being cried into and hugged was almost a daily occurrence with the amount of young traumatized omega children he lived with and loved, he still felt somewhat strange towards it.
Senjuro found the lack of scent from his haha unnerving. The comfort the clean smell usually brought was sorely missed but he understood that Giyuu could not share his scent that freely, they were not alone, they were not home, it was not safe. The fact that Giyuu and his father were in the same room and neither of them had started a fight with the other was also a surprise, a welcome surprise. To be completely honest he could not imagine Giyuu starting a fight with anyone, not even his father, but just in case, he felt relieved.
Talking of surprises, being alive was a big one, having no long lasting damages from that fight was another surprise. He was lucky, he could not dispute that fact, he had all his teeth, both hands and both legs, more than what he thought he would be able to save. He had a cleanly bandaged cut in his temple, a bunch of bruises and exhausted muscles, that was pretty much it. His ribs, much against his worst thoughts, had not been broken and he would be allowed to leave the Butterfly Estate that night if everything kept going well and he wished everything kept going well because he could not wait to see Genya and his sisters.
But what about the rest? What about the kakushi that had been there with him? What about that girl demon slayer that had been holding his brother's Nichirin sword? What about the young man that had been fighting before him? He had sustained many wounds, he had seen how grave they were, he had seen him being punched into a tree. Was he even alive? And what about his brother? His leg had been mangled, why was his father in Senjuro's room instead of in Kyojuro's? Was he…?
"Kyojuro?" Senjuro asked, disentangling himself from Giyuu to look at his father with all his attention.
A piercing pain extended from his ribs into the rest of his body and Senjuro could feel every muscle complaining at the sudden movement, almost like a creaking door, annoying and shrill. He knew Giyuu would not like it if he heard it but he felt like he had been living a comfortable life, meritless, if he was about to complain about a few bruised ribs and a shallow cut. Even after his father’s beatings he had never experienced that kind of pain, pain that many other demon slayers felt even before joining the corps or in the first few months.
‘We do not compare trauma,’ Giyuu would say, so he would not compare pain. He was sure that Giyuu would advise him that; he had suffered enough, even if he had not faced a demon before then, even if his life had never been at risk, even if his brother and father still loved him and were alive. The fact that others did not have those things was not his fault, they were different people and they suffered differently, his suffering was valid, just as valid as the others suffering. He had to stop comparing himself.
“He is alive, he is just fine,” his father replied quickly, before he panicked. “He won't be walking any time soon but he already woke up,” he added.
“Oh… good,” Senjuro said, not really sure if ‘good’ was an appropriate term to say in that situation. “Did you see him? How is his leg?” he asked, trying to recall any other wound that his brother could have acquired in the last fight. A broken leg was more than enough, he knew, and it would probably have turned Senjuro completely useless, but he wanted to be sure that there was nothing else wrong with Kyo.
“Yes, I did see him. He was filled in about the mission and he had been asking about you since,” Shinjuro said, becoming a little sheepish as he kept talking. “I hope you don't mind but I had told him that you had survived and promised him I would tell him about any news… would you mind if I tell him that you had woken up next time I visit him?” he asked and Senjuro was stunned into silence for a whole minute.
Why was his father asking him that? Was that something other people did? Did he have the right to say what could and what could not his brother know about him? That was an interesting concept, that was a lot of power to take into account… but he liked the taste of it, he had found that he liked to have the control of his own life, to be able to choose things. Giyuu had started him on that idea by letting him manage his money and he found that he felt more comfortable making decisions and voicing them than he was before.
It felt cruel to say ‘no’ though, maybe that was something he had to work on with Giyuu, maybe it had to do with knowing that he would like to know if his brother was alright or not, he had literally asked about his brother’s health as soon as he had awoken so there was no much to think about.
“No, of course. I would not wish for him to worry like that, you can tell him…” he replied, but then a thought struck his mind: what if Kyojuro wanted to see him? He did not think he was ready for that. Actually, no, he was ready to see Kyojuro but he was not ready to be in the same room with him, or speak to him, or be seen… that was it, he did not felt comfortable with giving for once and maybe it was high time for him to listen to himself and speak out. “I am not ready to see him though,” he said, “or rather, I am not ready to be seen by him, if it makes any sense,” he added, insecure about his own sanity but sure about his feelings.
“Yes, it does make sense,” Giyuu replied, carefully. He did not look completely sure about what he was saying but maybe it was Senjuro overthinking it, at the end of the day nobody was able to say with total certainty what Giyuu was thinking and, even less, feeling. Some thought that not even Giyuu could tell so he would not even pretend to try.
Shinjuro seemed completely lost and Senjuro did understand his father like the back of his hand, had he not he would have ended up even worsley beaten than he had… which was by no means an encouraging thought. If he had to guess, his father had not even begun to understand the difference between seeing someone and being seen by them and he had not said anything because Giyuu had talked before he could figure out a way to let Senjuro down slowly.
“Is it a… an omega thing?” Shinjuro dared to ask.
Senjuro was not sure if the question was directed at him or at Giyuu but since he did not have an answer to that he kept his silence and looked at Giyuu. His haha was, by no means, a typical omega but he was experienced at dealing with other omegas, at least that was what his experience of Giyuu had been up until that point, so he thought that if it was ‘an omega thing’ he would have heard about it from someone else before him.
“No, I don't think so,” Giyuu replied. “It is a ‘feelings’ thing, I think,” he added as an explanation and for a second he looked almost as lost as his father had looked a moment before. Senjuro did not doubt that Giyuu could not relate to him or understand the feeling at all, he could not imagine Giyuu wanting to see someone, with or without being seen back. He was there though, so maybe he did crave for connection, just not in the same way other people did.
“What about the others? The kakushi and the two demon slayers?” he asked, getting all of them out of the strange place he had inadvertently led them into.
“The kakushi did not get hurt at all and both demon slayers should make a full recovery,” Giyuu replied, fast and to the point.
He was glad, he had protected the kakushi as he had set out to do, he had saved his brother from certain death and he had also managed to keep the other demon slayers safe. He was satisfied with himself, even a little proud, he had gotten a better result than the one he had expected and in the first try.
“Talking about the kakushi… My anonymity is not… I mean, everyone knows who I am related to, even if they are not completely sure about who I am,” Senjuro said sheepishly, scratching the bandage in his head absentmindedly. The possible consequences of his decision was something that had seemed minimal at the time but from the perspective of that bed in the Butterfly Estate and at the prospect of a schooling from Oyakata-sama it looked way worse than it had been during the fight.
“I have to go to see the Master and we will see what we can do about that,” Giyuu replied, there was no harshness in his voice, there was no disappointment. He was merely stating facts and it was both worrying and awkwardly on brand for him. “I will come back from the Master’s Estate to pick you up and then leave for a mission,” he added, laying out his schedule for him to be ready on time. As always it seemed awfully full.
“Oh, do not worry about it, I can stay the night at the Flame Estate and you can pick me up by morning,” Senjuro replied trying to sound nonchalant, “if you are not against it,” he added hurriedly looking back at his father.
Shinjuro looked astounded. Had Senjuro knocked his head that badly? Had he gone insane? Or did he actually trust him? Shinjuro was not sure if he trusted himself with the care of his own sons, not after everything that had happened, not after doing as much retrospection as he had done, not after watching as his children walked away, one scared, the other one awry, and both of them hurt.
“I would be honored, I just do not want you to push yourself to do something you do not feel ready for,” Shinjuro said, keeping his voice low and gentle. He had never stopped loving his sons but he had not loved them correctly and he was willing to do it right for them this time around.
Senjuro had gifted him with a second chance, one more than what he deserved, and he was not going to take it lightly, that was the reason he had taken some time before sending him the first letter: he needed to change before he could reconnect with Senjuro, he had to change for Sen, for Kyo, for Ruka and for himself. He had worked on himself, he had put some effort everyday and he had quitted drinking which proved to be more difficult than what he wanted to recognize. But it was worth it, even if Senjuro rejected him, even if that second chance was not granted, it was worth it because Senjuro deserved a better version of Shinjuro, because Kyojuro deserved a better version of himself and because he would not be able to face Ruka if he changed nothing.
It had been hard, it had been tiring and it had made him incredibly sad and incredibly angry at times but he had stayed strong and away from alcohol, he had found himself training to get his frustration and anger out in a way that did not hurt others and he had learned to cry which looked simple but was not.
And even when he had settled into that path expecting nothing he had gotten a very willing Senjuro that wanted to meet the father he should have always had. He had gotten way more than what he felt he deserved and he was not going to ruin it, even if he had to give up thighs he really wanted to do or have, he would not hurt Senjuro ever again.
“I am ready, it is only one night,” Senjuro said with a radiant smile that shut him up. Senjuro had never smiled at him like that before… and it was nobody else's fault but his.
“Great,” he said, trying to act natural. “I will go and update Kyojuro so you two have some privacy before Tomioka-san has to go,” he added, standing up stiffly but he seemed to change his mind on his way out. “Senjuro, if you change your mind I can take you somewhere else, do not feel pressured to stay in the Flame Estate just because you said you would, I will not take offense,” he said, squeezing his big toe lightly.
“I won’t dad, I am sure of it, but if I do, I will let you know,” Senjuro replied. It was refreshing, experiencing his father being considerate, and he enjoyed it very much. Knowing that he could have had that version of his dad his whole life made him a little bitter but he tried to see the positive side, if his father had always been good he would not have met Giyuu nor Aiko and Suki, nor Genya, and he appreciated having more people in his corner, he liked having more family.
“I am sorry.” Was the first thing Senjuro said once he was left alone with Giyuu. “I did not mean to make you waste so much time,” he added but Giyuu cut him right there.
“It is not a waste,” Giyuu said, “you will never be a waste,” he added, as if clarification was needed, and somehow it was because Senjuro kept getting surprised even when Giyuu had showed him time and time again that he appreciated him. “You did very good out there, you saved many people.”
“I got us in trouble with Oyakata-sama, though,” Senjuro replied.
“I do not think he will hold that against you, you saved many lives Senjuro, even if he can not keep you as a kakushi and you have to act as a demon slayer from now on, I do not think that those lives are going to be meaningless to the Master,” Giyuu said. “Suki and Aiko are pretty worried though, and Genya too. They sent their regards and wished for you to get better soon.”
“Oh… I feel a little guilty to go with dad instead of going with them,” Senjuro confessed.
“Do not, your father was also very worried. You will get to see the kids tomorrow, they will survive,” Giyuu replied. “If anything were to happen you only need to send a crow and if I am not available just yet I will have Kanroji or Iguro to pick you up until I can get to you, understand?” he asked. Senjuro knew that Giyuu cared about him because he worried, he worried a lot even when the possibilities of him getting hurt were minimal, he worried about his mental state, his emotional state and his physical state and even then he allowed Senjuro to do his own thing, to experiment, to get in trouble if he needed to and was there for the downfall.
“I was very scared, I thought that I would die and I have so many thing that I want to say and do,” Senjuro said, his eyes had watered suddenly, all the feelings swelling up on his chest in a second, so suddenly that he could not do anything about it but feel it, let those feelings wash over him.
“You can get to do those things now, you did very well and I am very proud of you… and Senjuro, had you chosen not to fight or had you died in battle, I would have been just as proud. There is nothing you have to do or prove, just the fact that you are who you are is enough for me to be proud,” he said and it almost felt as if a knot was freed inside of Senjuro. He felt his muscles relaxing and a weight fell off his shoulders, that was exactly what he had wanted his whole life to hear and he finally had. There was nothing else he had to do, as long as he was a good person, his haha would be proud of him and that was exactly what he had wanted to know in the midst of battle.
A pair of fiery eyes were fixed in him, he could feel the stare almost at a physical level. He had been stared at for a while now and even if it was kind of cute, it was also a little bit unnerving. He liked the kakushi, not from knowing him because he did not know him at all, but in a way that he thought he could get something else to grow from there. He had a “feeling”, Mai would have said in a mocking tone, a hunch, if you will, and he wanted to trust in his hunches.
“You may want to tell me your name if you are going to keep staring at me,” he said, taking the kakushi by surprise.
“I am SO sorry…” the young kakushi replied.
Hiroshi tried to get into a more flattering position but his body was in so much pain that he barely managed to contain a shrink and a groan. His back had been torn to shreds, his arm had been stitched together and his face was so swollen that there were probably more pressing things to worry about than his pathetic attempt at flirting.
“I do not mind but, as I said, I still would like to know your name, at least” he replied, smiling. Or rather, trying to smile. He would probably scare off the poor kakushi if he did not take control over his aching face… or his stupid brain walking at snail pace while his mouth kept running.
“Rengoku Senjuro,” the kakushi said. “What about you?”
“Hamasaki Hiroshi,” he replied, attempting a friendly smile that probably looked closer to a grimace and made him groan in pain. His face was so swollen up that he could not move much, or at all; his nose was black and blue and his eye was swollen shut for the foreseeable future, with a little bit of good luck he would regain his vision but no one could say yet.
“Thank you, by the way… you were hurt and you kept fighting,” Senjuro said shyly.
“Don’t mention it, it was the least I could do, is literally in the job description, you know? You, on the other hand… you were amazing back there. You did not see yourself but I did and I tell you… that was a massacre, that demon had zero chances against you,” he replied, brushing the compliment off easily.
“It was not a massacre, I half improvised the whole thing. I almost died,” Senjuro said, his cheeks turning red, embarrassed.
“No, I almost died, you did not. You saved us, Rengoku-san, Mai and I. I mean, I know I don’t look great right now but… I will get better,” he said, exploring his own face with his uninjured hand, hissing when his fingers brushed against a particular sensitive spot.
“Well, I am glad you will get better, you were losing a lot of blood, I was worried about you,” Senjuro replied, both of his legs dangling to the side of the bed and his arms wrapped around the pillow, holding it to his chest.
Cute.
“You know I… I am the one that gets Mai’s katanas, you fought with her nichirin and I wanted you to have it, actually. I… I am a curious person, you know, and sometimes I can’t help myself and I heard that you had not turned a katana before,” he said, not really sure where he was going but he had never really known before and his feet had brought him there and he was happy, or at least satisfied. “The first katana you turn… I always found it special. I don’t know if you will use it again and it is probably chirped but… I don’t know, maybe I am just sentimental, you don’t have to take it, I don’t even know if you will be a kakushi or if you are going to retire…”
“Thank you,” Senjuro finally cut in or Hiroshi would have kept going for hours, that was his thing, when he got nervous he did not know when to shut up, not that he ever knew when to shut up. “Are you sure your friend is not going to be mad if you give away her sword?” he asked, eyeing eagerly the nichirin sword at the foot of his bed.
“Oh… She will be fuming with anger but it is useless to her, it is already turned and I will get her a new one. And if she did not want her sword to be taken away she should not have abandoned it in the middle of the battlefield,” Hiroshi replied, laughing a little. “I will deal with Mai, she did not like the tsuba anyway,” he added.
“May I?” Senjuro asked, shyly stepping closer to the foot of his bed to grab the katana.
“Yes, of course, I would not unsheathe it now, I can not imagine Kocho-sama being happy about it if she found out,” Hiroshi replied. He would have shrugged if he could to make it simpler and less stressful for Senjuro but he could barely move without screaming.
“I did not see it turning, and I was too tired to notice afterwards,” the kakushi confessed, playing with the tsuka carefully, nor sure if he should unsheathe it and deal with the consequences or if he should wait until he was somewhere safe.
“Oh, it is a beautiful color, somewhere in between red and gold, like… like burning coal, it kind of glows. It is very pretty,” he assured him, barely holding his head up to see him while they spoke.
“Are those marigolds?” Senjuro asked, turning his attention towards the tsuba and examining it closely.
“Yes, both my swordsmith and I like flowers so we decided that I should always carry them with me. When I requested Mai’s sword, she thought that a flower would be a good idea but Mai was not very impressed by it,” Hiroshi said, appreciating his swordsmith’s work from a distance. Senjuro looked more appreciative of the design than Mai had ever been.
“I really like marigolds,” he mumbled, barely audible, almost as if he were sharing a secret.
“Then it is settled, the sword is yours. Even if you don’t keep the blade, at least keep the tsuba, it would be a shame to not make a use of it,” he asked, even if there were no explicit questions neither in his tone nor in his words. “And marigolds suit you, like a ray of sunshine in the dead of winter,” he added.
Senjuro looked surprised for a moment, his eyes glinting and his cheeks turning red yet again. But soon enough he hid his blushing face, turning his back to Hiroshi. Nonetheless, a little smile graced his gentle face and his hands tighten around the sword protectively. Hiroshi was almost sure that he would keep that sword close to him even if he decided to never use it again and he was glad, he would be even more glad if he knew that there was no need for someone so kind-hearted to use a sword but there was and the only thing he could wish for was for Senjuro to be able to keep himself safe.
“I will,” Senjuro replied, almost like a promise. “I should be getting ready to go,” he added, turning back to his bed with the nichirin in hand, getting his things together. “Please, send me a letter when both you and your friend are better, if you have the time, I would like to know that both of you are safe,” he said, finally turning around and giving him a beaming smile.
“I will,” he replied, breathless.
Hiroshi found himself monitoring his own breath until Senjuro was out of the room to make sure he would not act strange or start to hyperventilate. His mind was all over the place, not really making any kind of sense but repeating the same word over and over again: cute, cute, cute, cute… He was so very cute. Breathtaking even. Bright. That word was the one he liked the most; if someone was to ask him to describe Senjuro, the first thing he would say was that he was bright, like a candle in the middle of the night, like a ray of sunshine. Bright and colorful and warm.
He was sure that scientifically speaking there was no way he could be head over heels in love after a chat of a couple of minutes, he knew nothing about Senjuro and Senjuro knew nothing about him, he could not be sure where they were going, if Senjuro wanted to go anywhere with him at all which was already a stretch, but he felt something and that had to mean something.
It was a gamble, like almost everything in his life, he could not even know if he would survive the next fight but also, nobody could know if they would wake up the next day so he was willing to take the risk, he almost every time was; he would not have become a demon slayer if he had not.
But was Senjuro willing? Did he even feel anything at all? There was nothing he could do to know but to wait and see, maybe if he wrote to him when Mai decided to wake up, if they actually kept communicating, writing back and forth, then he would have the chance to get to know him and test the waters, so to speak.
He was hardly the best option Senjuro had, he did not doubt that there was a long line of suitors with whom he would have to stand by, but he was sure he had a chance. He had learned everything he could from Mai, he was independent, he could cook and clean and keep things tidy… or somewhat tidy. He was not ugly looking either, he did not consider himself exceptionally attractive either but he was nice to be around, he thought, and his sensei’s wife always said that he smelled nice.
He was kind of clever, he had self control and he was not scared of hard work. He was ready to put in effort, he was willing to learn and he was willing to dream, even if it did not last long. Demon slayers did not used to have a particularly long life but to have love for a little while was better than to not have loved at all, did it not? At least that was what his sensei’s wife said and he was inclined to believe her.
Maybe he was just hopelessly romantic, maybe he was thinking too highly of himself but he did not think that he was a disastrous match. Senjuro could do better, of course, but he was sure he was not the worst option he could have. He could not be… right?
Hiroshi took a deep breath and groaned in pain, cursing his bad ideas. He had made a fool of himself, trying to flirt while being all bandaged up. Senjuro was probably so embarrassed, he would have to apologize for forcing him through such an uncomfortable situation. And why had he given him that katana? What use could Senjuro give it? He would probably get a new one that was not chirped.
And the flower business? That was pathetic. He had somehow become poetic all of a sudden. He was ridiculous. He had let his mouth run faster than his brain and he would do well to remember that next time… if Senjuro wanted to subject himself to such a situation once again which Hiroshi himself could not recommend.
Even then, he could not regret anything. Marigolds, he would always remember those flowers when he thought of Senjuro and he would always think of Senjuro when he found the flowers. Thankfully he really liked flowers.