The house was bustling with people that had congratulated him but he was not sure what was happening anymore or maybe he had never really known. He was used to it, at that point, most times he did not know what was happening and if he did he forgot quite quickly so keeping expecting reminders was not only a waste of his time but also other people’s time.
He knew he had a good afternoon, the scents that had adhered to him were known scents from people he liked, from people he loved. He was not sure who they were but the soft scent of cherry blossoms and apricots clung to his long hair and the scent of sea salt and camelia surrounded him like the comfortable and safe shell of a hermit crab.
He did feel like a hermit crab sometimes, perpetually running and on the look for a better place to hide, crawling from one house to the next with complete disregard for what he left behind… or whom. More than anything Muichiro wanted to belong somewhere but he could not fit someone else in his little shell and he was too scared to be vulnerable and leave the safety of his apathy behind to meet someone, to exchange shells just for the sake of it, to see if something else fit better, if he could grow into a new shell. So a lonely hermit crab he remained while everything inside of him screamed to find his pack.
He had made a new friend, though, the soft scent of blueberry and tea leaves from the omega boy that stood awkwardly next to him was mixed with his which typically meant that he had spent a good amount of time around that boy and he felt comfortable there, not immersed in the asphyxiating mix of all those unknown scents inside the house that were too much for anyone to deal with.
Muichiro was restless, he felt like something was wrong, like something was missing but he was not sure what it was. He felt tired and dizzy which was not normal, he worked at night, he was always one hundred percent when the sun set but not that day, that day felt… off and unusual, and he could not remember why.
It was maddening, not knowing why you were feeling some sort of way. It was frustrating not being able to remember anything, not being able to trust in himself and in that he was remembering something correctly. Everyone was an enemy, everyone was a danger to him so he was safer alone. But Muichiro was tired of being alone, he was tired of not being able to share anything: his bourdens, his fears, his dreams… if he could remember any. He wanted to have a conversation from time to time, something or someone to think about when there was nothing else to do, someone to enjoy the silence with.
“Do you want to go out and take a breath for a second?” the boy he had by his side asked. Muichiro was tempted to ask his name again but instead he just nodded, it felt… wrong, he was sure he did not have that problem with a lot of people but he felt that if he wanted to befriend that new guy he would have to know his name and not ask every time.
Maybe he was just not made to have friends, he had to follow Oyakata-sama’s orders and nothing else but he wanted… he yearned for connection, even if he did not know what he was yearning for, he just knew that having that boy by his side felt right just as it had felt right to be around the people he had shared his afternoon with. If someone asked him to explain it he would not be able to.
He followed the boy around, if he were any different he would have rejoiced in the light breeze that graced his skin, in the sweet scent of the flowers in the garden, in the quietness of the outside. But he did not, he felt numb to all of it, to enjoy the world that surrounded him, to find the meaning of life in the small things. Muichiro just flowed through everything, he walked by with his head made a mess and his head clouded. Maybe he was condemned to wander the world alone, floating over the earth and slightly out of reach, untouchable and unable to touch.
“Here?” the boy asked, pointing at a bench far enough from the bulk of the people.
Muichiro nodded again and took a seat beside the boy. What were they supposed to do now? Sitting around to take a breath seemed kind of pointless but at the end of the day everything seemed kind of pointless to Muichiro so maybe he just did not know what he was talking about and should just shut up and follow for once.
“When I was little… We were pretty poor and sometimes some of my siblings got riled up or grumpy and Nemi would take them outside for a while. I do not know what he did to calm my siblings but when he called me out we spent some time in silence. Maybe it was because there was not much silence with five little siblings bustling with energy in a tight space but I loved those times, just… sitting side by side, looking at the stars, it felt meaningful,” the boy shared.
It was pointless to try and remember, Muichiro knew as well as everyone else that he would forget about everything soon enough but there was something, something he could neither explain nor entirely grasp, that made him fervently wish to remember or maybe just made him wish to understand that one thing he was being told, as if it held all the answers to all the questions he could ever think of.
“How was it meaningful?” Muichiro asked. He took so long to form that question that Genya was not sure he had been interested in his stories to begin with. But Muichiro was interested, in a deeper part of himself, a hidden and almost voiceless part of him, he was so interested that he could barely keep his excitement in, as if Genya were the keeper of the secrets of the world and had just offered him the key for free.
“It was meaningful in the sense that there was nothing else for us to do at that moment, our existence seemed to reach its peak while we were sitting together. For a second it felt like that was everything the world was made for, there were no other reasons to live other than being together outside, looking at the stars. I am sure you had to have felt that joy at least once,” Genya said, maybe hopeful, maybe naive.
“Tell me another story,” Muichiro ordered; but maybe he was asking and not demanding, maybe he was not aware of the way that his tone or his choice of words was perceived by others. Whatever it was, Genya did not mind telling him tales all night if that was what Tokito-sama wanted. Maybe that night was the memory Tokito-sama needed, one of his very own meaningful memories.
“I remember this one time when Shuuya was teething, it was summer and the weather was hot even at night, it was almost unbearable inside the house, but we had to stay in and keep the door closed. He would not stop crying and I was irritable so I lost it and screamed at him… I was not one to lose my patience with my little siblings but I was done and I remember that Nemi appeared behind me, I kind of felt his presence all of a sudden, and he sent me outside to sit right by the door. I thought that he would be pissed at me for screaming at the little ones, we had enough screaming with our dad alone and we did not need more of that, but he was not angry,” Genya said, there was melancholy in his words, melancholy and grief. Muichiro was about to tell him that he did not need to continue if it hurt him but the words refused to come out of his mouth.
There was something in that story that resonated deeply with him, something that was making him shake uncontrollably all over as if his body were battling with his mind over a memory that was almost at his reach but not quite yet, as if his mind was offering but his body refused to hold a hand out to grab at it.
‘It was summer and the weather was hot even at night…’
‘The weather was hot…we were irritable all the time.’
‘It was summer and the nights were humid and the cicadas buzzed.’
‘We left the door open and were asleep.’
“Huh? What did you just say?” Muichiro asked. His heart was beating madly in his chest, almost as if it wanted to get out of him and run away. A high-pitched beep ringed in his ears and a splitting headache exploded inside his skull to the point that he wanted to hit his head until it opened to let out whatever it was inside, maybe that way the pressure would lessen and he would finally feel relieved.
“I said that Nemi was not angry with me? I know it is hard to believe now but he was a very good older brother… he is a very good older brother,” Genya corrected himself right away, refusing to let anyone believe for a second that his brother was not good.
But Muichiro was not listening to him anymore, his mind had wandered off somewhere in between the plants and the soft buzzing sound of the insects moving around in the night. Genya did not feel offended, the little he knew about the Mist Hashira was that he had suffered from amnesia for a long time, he was not rude on purpose just like Giyuu was not obtuse on purpose. They simply were and just like Suki, Aiko, Giyuu and Senjuro had accepted Genya as he was, Genya would accept Tokito-sama as he was.
He was not sure that amnesia was the only thing bugging him, though, as trauma was not the only thing that made Giyuu the person he was. He was no doctor so he could only hope that Tokito was receiving the help he needed, he did not want any sibling of his sisters to be in pain or suffering, they were all too good, they did not deserve it. But he knew better, Genya knew that most times good people got rewarded with bad things and rarely someone deserved what they had to live through. He knew that Nemi was good and he did not deserve what he got but Genya had played his part in the hurting of his brother nonetheless. Maybe he was the one that got what he deserved and Sanemi and his family were the collateral damage of his wrong doings, his punishment, and if Genya wished for something it would be that his family would not have to pay for his sins.
“Do not leave the door open, not even in summer,” Muichiro said, his eyes lost somewhere in the courtyard, maybe the flower garlands of Kanroji-sama’s home inspired good feelings in him or maybe he was relieving the past. Genya could not know which one was but there was nothing he could do if the memories were bad and nothing he wanted to do if the feelings were good so he just let it be.
“Who are you?” Tokito asked. Genya’s scent was still familiar to him but he was not sure why and he was not sure if he should trust that instinct so he became cold and guarded, just in case he was being lied to.
“Shinazugawa Genya,” the boy by his side said. He did not look surprised or offended so maybe he had not asked his name before or maybe he just thought that a Hashira had much better things to do than to remember names and if that was the reasoning he would have been right. Truth was Genya already knew what to expect.
“And what do you want?” Muichiro asked, completely forgetting the conversation they had a moment ago and the party that was being thrown in his honor. Genya could not understand how he managed to feel safe if he never knew where and with who he was, when the world was a big unexplored place full of danger and pain.
“We are celebrating your birthday, Tokiko-sama, but you seemed a little overwhelmed by the sounds and the scents so we came here to take a breath before going back,” Genya replied gently. The kind smile on his face seemed to make him shine in Tokito-sama’s eyes, eyes squeezing shut in the shape of a crescent moon and the wind tangling his mohawk.
His scent was somewhat clean, mild and shy, barely there to begin with. Blueberry and tea leaves, it was calm and happy and did not feel suffocating. Muichiro had to stop himself from reaching out to touch his head, he felt… intrigued, maybe he had always been curious, he did not know, but he was curious in that exact second, he wanted to know how soft his hair was and he wanted to know how much it would tickled his hands if he touched the shaved parts at the sides. He wanted to know how different it felt the skin of his cheek compared with the skin of the big scar that ran across his face. He wanted to recognize the elegant arch of his nose just by touch and the way his lips stretched when he smiled.
“I like the wind,” Muichiro said instead, maybe that thought had just crossed his mind and he said it out loud by accident, maybe the wind was just what he had managed to associate with Genya and his statement was deeper than whatever either of them thought.
“It feels nice,” Genya replied, closing his eyes to enjoy the moment, his nose up, as if he was smelling the scent of the night, as if the scent of all that people Muichiro did not know were not there and there were nothing but flower garlands and bushes. “I also like to gaze at the stars,” he added, opening his eyes to look up at the immensity of the sky above them.
Muichiro looked up as well, enjoying the bright stars twinkling to them as if they were the only two fools that were looking up, and maybe they were, and then changed his mind and looked at Genya, his expression relaxed, his eyes open in wonder as if he had never watch something as beautiful as that before, reflecting a sky that seemed infinite, limitless. Muichiro could never be sure but for a moment he decided to indulge himself and thought, or maybe felt, that he had never stopped to enjoy a moment as simple as that and maybe he should have, or maybe his fate was to wait for Genya to show him the wonders of simple things.
“It feels meaningful, doesn’t it? Even if it is not,” Genya said, looking straight at Tokito-sama’s eyes who had not been fast enough to look away. Maybe Genya was a powerful spirit of the moon who had drawn him in, maybe Muichiro had fallen hopelessly under his spell and would be trapped in that moment for the rest of existence; he did not mind too much to be honest, and Muichiro was honest quite often.
Mui scratched his nose as he felt it heating up but could not take his eyes from Genya’s, or maybe he did not want to. The wind picked up again and his long hair got into his face. It was not cold but for some reason his skin burst into goosebumps and a chill ran down his spine. The wind seemed to be just another natural reaction for Muichiro to know that there was something important there even if he could not understand it or remember it.
A warm hand tucked his hair behind his ear carefully, barely touching his cheek like a whisper, with the fragility of a wisteria petal falling into a calm pond, making more ripples that could be predicted on the surface of the water. And next to Genya’s warmth, Muichiro felt as cold as a corpse.
And Muichiro wanted that warmth, he yearned for it, he needed it almost desperately so he gave chase to that whisper of a touch, that kind of tenderness he did not get often enough. It was pure, innocent even, and Muichiro was sure he had been touched with kindness before but he could not remember it, he just knew that he did not have his fill yet, or maybe he was destined to never have his fill and the faint memory of hinoki wood, adzuki and sea salt would be the only thing he got left. He could add blueberry and tea leaves if he was lucky and if his memory allowed him to.
“Your hands are warm,” Muichiro said. He was not sure why he was talking but he felt like he needed to let Genya know and Tokito did not feel things very often so he was inclined to follow his hunches when they happened.
“Are you cold?” Genya asked genuinely concerned and both of his hands flew to hold Muichiro’s face in between them. His hands felt rough against his cheeks and his heart skipped a beat. Whatever it was, it warmed him up and did strange things to his tummy, Muichiro was not sure if it was his heat getting closer, his hormones going cuckoo on him in his puberty or that he was getting sick all of a sudden. Maybe he should have listened and not stay out in the rain or exposed to morning dew.
“I have never been one to run very hot but I guess I can help if you are feeling cold,” Genya said. He was whispering shyly, almost as if he did not want to break the intimacy that had been built between them, his face had blushed furiously in the span of one second and the muscles of his arms quivered involuntarily.
Muichiro hoped it lasted, he hoped he would remember Genya or at least his scent and maybe one day, if he was lucky enough, he would be able to understand what he was feeling or even just bask in the sweet memory for a moment. Muichiro was not good at feelings, he was not sure if he was unable to feel or if he had always been uninterested by it. Maybe he had always been numb but now he wanted to want, he wished he cared more.
“Or we can go back inside,” Genya added as a second thought.
His hands threatened to retreat in a display of awkwardness but Muichiro was faster than that. He took Genya’s hands in his and pushed them back into his cheeks until they framed his face nicely, the warmth of his hands was inviting and comfortable, like the blankets he used for his nest in winter and the soft fur of a cat. He might not understand it but whatever that feeling was, it was good.
“I do not want to go inside,” Muichiro said, his hands still holding onto Genya’s tightly.
They remained silent for a second, or maybe for a lifetime, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Muichiro liked to watch people as much as he liked to watch animals, trees and clouds, with an almost scientific interest and, a little bit, because it used to annoy the right kind of people. He found that the more he stared at Genya, the more the boy blushed and a mischievous little voice at the back of his head provided him with the idea that seeing how red his face could become would be a good one.
Genya had purple eyes, the more Muichiro looked into them the more he liked them. They seemed innocent and curious and kind even when at first glance Genya looked anything but those three things. The little pockets of baby fat under the eye made him look even younger than he was and balanced off his impressionable height and muscle mass. Muichiro wondered for a moment if the older Shinazugawa shared that feature with his brother and, if he did, why had he never noticed before.
But then Muichiro shook with another shiver. He was not cold, at least he did not think so, the night breeze felt good against his skin compared to the stifling summer heat, but there was something around them, or about that situation, that shook him off… not in a bad way; Muichiro was pretty sure that it was a good kind of shiver, if those existed at all.
“And I think you are warm enough,” he added as if he had not just shivered in his arms.
Muichiro shimmied his way closer to Genya’s side nonchalantly and supported all of his weight in his new friend. It was nice, he thought, it was nice to enjoy the silence and star gaze together, it was nice to do those things with a friend and maybe it was nice to do that with that friend in particular. Muichiro felt a warm feeling spreading through his body, he was not sure what it was but it made him relaxed and sleepy. If he remembered anything from that encounter when he finally got home he would write about it to prevent his mind from erasing it permanently.
Genya’s right arm held Muichiro to his side tenderly and threaded his fingers into his long hair, playing softly with it and unraveling the knots that the wind had made with it. It was thick and soft and it felt nice to the touch and Muichiro could have started to purr had he been a cat at the feeling of Genya’s fingers massaging his scalp.
“Tell me a story, Genya,” Muichiro demanded and Genya took no offense neither for the order nor for the use of his given name instead of his family name when they barely knew each other.
“What kind of story do you like?” Genya asked, it reminded him of his siblings back home but it was slightly different as well. He basked in that feeling, whatever it was, tenderness or even feeling wanted by someone for once.
“Something nice,” Muichiro replied. “Tell me about the stars, about the sky, anything,” he added. He was not fussy about stories it seemed and Genya had a wide arrangement of myths and legends to pick from.
“My little sister, Sumi, she always liked the stories about the stars, one of her all time favorites was the myth of Tanabata that goes somewhat like this” Genya begun easily, some could say he was nostalgic but actually he really liked to remember the people he loved and the good moments even if there was nothing left of them. “Long ago in a far far away place, the weaving princess, Orihime, wove beautiful clothes by the bank of the Amanogawa. Her father, the sky king Tentei, loved the special cloth that she wove with much effort and praised her for it so she worked very hard every day to weave it,” he continued, threading his fingers through Tokito-sama’s long hair tentatively, not sure how much was he allowed to do.
Muichiro yawned unabashedly and changed positions until he felt comfortable with his cheek squished into Genya’s shoulder. He could not remember how they had made it all the way there and did not know what they were doing exactly but he did not care, the story was interesting and the storyteller had a gentle voice. Muichiro was happy with getting sleepy and finally taking one night of rest.
“However, Orihime was not happy,” Genya said. “She worked so hard for her father to feel proud of her that she had no time for herself, she could never meet anyone and fall in love as she always wished to do. Concerned about his daughter, the doting father arranged a meeting with a cowman by the name of Hikoboshi. Hikoboshi was a good person and a hard worker and he lived and worked on the other side of the Amanogawa so Tentei thought that it was a good idea. His daughter could have some company and get to know a kind man that she could fall in love with while she worked,” Genya tried to keep his voice low and calming even when Tokito-sama kept moving around, he hoped to notice if the young Hashira lost interest before he got a backhanded and cruel comment.
And he would have been right in worrying because Muichiro had actually lost interest in the story, he did not even remembered what it was about but Genya’s voice was lulling him to sleep and he did not care to understand what words was he saying but he wanted him to keep talking so he did not interrupt him.
“When the two met, they fell instantly in love with each other and married shortly thereafter. However, once married, Orihime would no longer weave cloth for Tentei and Hikoboshi allowed his cows to stray all over Heaven. In anger, Tentei separated the two lovers across the Amanogawa and forbade them to meet,” Genya said, he remembered his little sister always crying at that part and Hiroshi rolling his eyes at the display, he could not concentrate enough in the memory when he felt the weight of Tokito-sama suddenly leaving his side.
He watched the Hashira with interest, not really sure if he should shut up or keep going. Muichiro pulled his legs to the bench they were seated on and rested his head in Genya’s lap. The older boy was left frozen in place, surprised at the familiarity the other one was displaying, and with a blushing face.
“The story… keep going,” Muichiro said as if it was the most normal position for them to be in. “And keep touching my hair, it feels nice,” he added, taking Genya’s hand with his and pulling it to rest on his head.
“Time went by and the lovers could not find each other even when they tried their hardest and Orihime became despondent at the loss of her husband and asked her father to let them meet again,” Genya continued, his fingers moving carefully in between Tokito-sama’s hair, softly massaging his scalp, and admiring his beauty while the young one had his eyes closed. “Tentei was moved by his daughter's tears and allowed the two to meet on the seventh day of the seventh month if she worked hard and finished her weaving,” he said, he kept his voice enticing to make the story sound interesting but shushed enough to let Tokito-sama sleep.
The bench was not the most comfortable surface to sleep in and it was surely not the best one to be sitting for long periods of time, Genya could give testament to that since both his legs were getting numb with Tokito-sama’s weight over them. His feet felt cold and his legs tingle but Genya was not willing to let that ruin that moment moving around, maybe Tokito-sama had not been able to rest in a long time and Genya had been graced with that trust so he should be honored.
“Orihime worked non-stop to finish her assignments and on the day that had been agreed on the lovers were able to see each other, however, they found that they could not cross the river because there was no bridge. Orihime cried bitterly, uncontrollably, so much that a flock of magpies came by and promised her to make a bridge with their wings so that she could cross the river for their next meeting. And they still do it every year but if it rains on Tanabata, it is said that the magpies cannot come because of the rise of the river and the two lovers must wait another year to meet,” Genya finished the story in a strange note, he had never quite liked that story in particular and had never understood why Sumi was obsessed with it, maybe he should as Aiko if he had the chance, she seemed like the kind of person that would understand Genya’s little sister’s reasonings.
But even when Genya was a dreamer at the core, he was not stupid, he knew that demons were not the only dangerous thing that walked the earth and he knew that he had to be careful with the kind of people he chose to surround himself with. His mother was a great example of what not to do, his father was a great example of who not to be.
Tokito-sama’s breathing became rhythmic as he fell asleep in Genya’s lap, tiny snores could barely be heard over the sound of the people celebrating Tokito-sama’s birthday even when the birthday boy was nowhere to be found. Genya kept petting his hair and admiring him, he was so little, he seemed so fragile, and even then he was a Hashira, an excellent swordsman and a dedicated demon slayer. Genya found Tokito-sama to be someone to admire and take care of: at the end of the day he was only a gifted child who had endured more than his share, so much, actually, that in order for him to survive and live a semi-normal life, his mind had decided to erase everything all the time. His amnesia, Genya was sure, was nothing but a protection against the horrible things he probably had to go through, just like Aiko’s mind had blocked the painful memories of her past.
And Genya hoped, if nothing else, that Tokito-sama could remember that afternoon and that night, that at least the nice fuzzy fillings Genya had experienced had been shared by the other boy and that he rested well and safely in his lap. Genya hoped that the memory of that night was not the most important one because it seemed rather poor to be an important memory but maybe it could be one of those times through which he could give some, even if only minimal, meaning to life.