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Kilig – (n.) the inexplicable rush and joy and the delightful feeling that sends shivers of pleasure down the spine as one encounters something romantic or cute
Yuichiro is most certainly not jealous.
He stares, glowers at the newcomers with narrowed eyes and a pinched face, holding onto Muichiro’s hand tightly. Muichiro, who has a partial view of Tanjirou from behind the protective back of his twin, begins to jump up and down in excitement.
It’s clear that he remembers the older boy; from their meeting at the Butterfly Estate, and prior to that, when they had met at Tamayo's mansion.
What had been a once enjoyable evening spent soaking in the hot springs with his twin has now turned sour. He remembers Tanjirou. That disastrous pillar meeting is still fresh in his memory; the boy had practically thrown a fit to convince the other pillars that his sister wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Muichiro had been the first demon accepted into the corps, but now there were two. His eyes flicker to the wooden box balanced between Tanjirou’s shoulder blades and then away.
“Ah, Tokito-san! Muichiro! Hello!”
When the hell had they become so friendly?
Tanjirou smiles and waves at him, bright and easy. Yuichiro’s own expression closes and darkens as he forces out a non-committed greeting. Although young, his face is drawn, life’s inadequacies now surfacing in his hard eyes and roughened edges.
Muichiro is far more welcoming.
Even after the attack that had turned him into a demon, Muichiro still possesses all of his happy innocence. He’s now a slender teenager in a dark blue, cloud-patterned yukata and his thoughts run this way and that. His hair is thick and straight, bleached silver by the moonlight that beats down on him. Though one would only have to look at his fingers, delicately curved into claws, or his eyes, now golden and cat-like, with vertical slit pupils, to identify him as a demon.
“Muichiro,” Yuichiro says, tightening his grip on his twin, still looking at Tanjirou with that same, cool, dispassionate gaze. “Don’t even think about –”
He could scream when Muichiro, all too easily, breaks free of his grip and practically sprints over to Tanjirou, who resembles a rabbit caught in a trap – caught off guard, but very much happy. He’s sure that Muichiro, too, is smiling behind his bamboo-woven muzzle.
Like a barnacle, Muichiro attaches himself to Tanjirou’s waist.
Tanjirou pats Muichiro’s head with absentminded affection. His face tinged with pink, Muichiro buries his face into the crook of Tanjirou’s neck. “Ah, did the two of you come from the hot springs? Nezuko and I were planning to soak there too!”
“Yeah.”
Yuichiro leaves out the fact that he’d been the one using the hot spring while Muichiro, much like a cat, had trembled behind a tree and refused to even dip his toes into the steaming water. Muichiro hates bathing. Just to get him wet daily, Yuichiro had taught him to swim in the creek last summer, which he actually enjoyed.
“Muichiro, let him go. We’re leaving.” Yuichiro grabs Muichiro tightly, and tries to drag him away.
Muichiro shakes his head, a fishing lure in rough waters, and clings to Tanjirou like a teddy bear. He hangs on tight, like Tanjirou’s a life raft in the middle of a stormy ocean. “Want to go too. Going with Tanjirou!”
“Oh for crying out loud –” Yuichiro throws up his hands in frustration. “You don’t even like hot springs!”
Muichirou is nothing but stubborn.
His pouting lower lip screams a refute, his chin tilting up defiantly as he crows out another, “Going with Tanjirou!”
Tanjirou, as it turns out, is either a god or a miracle worker. Maybe even both.
After unlocking the box to let his sister out, Tanjirou somehow manages to coax Muichiro into the water. Yuichiro had spent weeks pulling his hair out in frustration, trying to come up with a way to get Muichiro wet, and this punk comes along and accomplishes what he’s struggled to do with a smile and a few sweet words.
“It’ll be fun,” Tanjirou had promised, addressing Muichiro, who huddled behind a rock, his face an almost comical picture of pure fear. “I’ll hold your hand too! So don’t be scared!”
Muichiro had wavered for the briefest of seconds, before peeling off his clothes and practically throwing himself at Tanjirou, latching onto him once again with his tiny, but manacle-strong arms.
Tanjirou splutters, and his head is submerged for a good minute before he comes up for air again, gasping like a fish. Muichiro looks almost delighted at how the water laps at his skin, shaking his head and sending droplets of water flying in all directions. His sister worriedly splashes her way over to his side, her eyes wide and pink, almost too large for her face.
Yuichiro is almost tempted to laugh.
Almost.
Slowly, evening falls around them. Curled over his stomach, Yuichiro hears the water gurgle out a lullaby, feels the cold pinch at his cheeks and whip at his hair. He keeps a wary eye on his twin, primed to pull him out if Muichiro shows the slightest sign of discomfort.
His worries, however, appear to be unfounded. Tanjirou keeps his word, and holds Muichiro’s hand the entire time. Contented and at peace now, Muichiro amuses himself by using his one free hand to splash water at Tanjirou, and occasionally, his sister. Good-natured as ever – Yuichiro, quite nastily, wonders where his backbone had went, remembering how spirited the other had been when confronting Shinazugawa for injuring his sister – Tanjirou accepts the face full of water with a smile.
His sister retaliates on his behalf, and the sudden, violent motion sends a whole wave of water crashing over the three of them.
Tanjirou coughs out a laugh, along with a mouthful of water, scrubbing roughly at his face with the back of his hand. “Do you want me to wash your hair later, Muichiro?”
“Wash! Wash!” Over the peal of his laughter, a sparkle lights up his eyes.
As Yuichiro watches, Muichiro moves over to hug Tanjirou; clawed fingers brush against gently against Tanjirou’s cheek, tickle against his forehead. A wash of pink paints Tanjirou’s face – Yuichiro’s sure that it’s not from the heat of the springs.
Yuichiro’s expression sours. His fingers carve marks into the loose soil beside him.
Yuichiro is most certainly not jealous.