Work Text:
Reni never should’ve tagged along on the others’ little field trip. Of course they said they were only going to deliver the challenge, and ten minutes later they’re still trading jabs with children. At least when he did it, he had the class not to overstay his welcome to this extent.
“Reiji,” one buffoon or another calls, “Where ya goin’?”
“You all reek of alcohol. I’m going to freshen up in the washroom. I know the way.”
None of the Reborn Mankai members deign to block his exit or interrogate him, simply shuffling out of the way as he moves about their home. He supposes he should count his lucky stars. Kashima’s overly loud conversation drifts through the door as he closes it behind him.
Sorry about him; always been a handful, that one. Kinda reminds me of you sometimes, boy.
Apparently, the baths have seen no renovations since he was last here. His own accoutrements have long since been replaced by the myriad products of the new residents. He allows himself a brief sigh as he sets to work rubbing a bit of water into his hair where it was sticking to his skin. The summer heat tempts him to tie it up for once. Were it not for the certainty of comments from his rude companions, and his own neglect to not lose the hundredth elastic off his wrist this morning, he might.
As he returns to the hall, the echo of a slamming door greets him.
Reni continues idly fussing with his hairstyle and rounds the corner at his usual brisk pace. He stops short as a heavy weight slams into his chest. His arms shoot out on instinct, one hand stabilized against the wall, the other gripping an unfamiliar shoulder.
Or perhaps not so unfamiliar. It was the brat who’d threatened him onstage at that first showdown. The one the others spoke of like he was their own child. So much so that Reni’d taken to his name quicker than he had for the rest of this motley crew. Those who weren’t previously GODza, at any rate.
He opens his mouth to pardon himself, but the scrunched up pain on Sakyo’s rapidly reddening expression gives him pause. Reni may be a demanding man who stubbornly holds grudges, but he hopes he’s not quite a thoughtless beast yet.
“Did I injure you?”
Sakyo’s voice is thick with tension. “Like you could. I was just—ugh.” He tugs his sleeve over his thumb and roughly drags it across his cheek. The movement knocks his glasses askew and he fumbles them right off his downturned face.
Reni catches them easily. They were right in front of him, after all. Knowing the financial troubles of this troupe, it would not behoove their—Who was he again? Accountant?—to have new medical expenses. Logic restored, he offers the glasses, expecting a quick acceptance and subsequent escape.
Sakyo’s fingertips barely graze the rims before a wave of shared laughter rushes down the hall from the lounge, rudely crashing over their raw atmosphere. He flinches like he’d felt the cold ocean spray hit his back.
Reni frowns, and is surprised to find it’s in sympathy. He surprises himself further by commenting. “Those clowns. Awfully troublesome for a handful of old men.” Well, he never could help himself when a biting remark reared its head.
Sakyo looks at him oddly, but not with hostility, and it seems he’s relaxing by degrees. “Yeah… like the only thing they’re good at is getting on my nerves.”
Ha. “I know the feeling well.”
Sakyo smiles, and that is Reni’s cue to leave.
He lifts the glasses he’s been so generously holding, stopping when they’re directly in front of Sakyo’s eyes. “Not that you don’t look better without them, but I assume you need these to see?”
Sakyo snatches the frames from him in a huff. “Fraternizing with the enemy, are we?”
“We? Curious. But no, I’m afraid we’d have to be enemies for that to be the case.”
“… You sure are playing nice.” He chooses that moment to finally return his glasses to their rightful place.
“Take care not to expect special treatment in competitions.”
“Don’t need it. Also don’t want it.”
Reni nods, satisfied, and turns to be on his way. He starts as something bumps against his shoulder blade. “Kamikizaka.”
“Yes,” he drawls, inwardly cringing as a bit of teasing peeks through. “How else may I help you?”
Sakyo prods him again, and he shifts to see that what he’s being prodded with is a plain blue hair tie. Disinclined to further hypocrisy, Reni takes it immediately. Their fingers brush in his haste.
“Ah… thank you.” A cursory scan confirms that Sakyo has no other bands around his wrists. “You don’t mind if I keep this?”
Sakyo must notice him looking, because his hands seek shelter in his own pockets. “Knock yourself out. I mostly carry them for my son, anyway.”
Reni hums an acknowledgement and gathers his hair up into a high ponytail. The length ensures it's still spilling around his upper back. A bun would be most efficient, but… having someone watch him kicks his vanity into overdrive.
And Sakyo is certainly watching him. It suddenly feels like a step too far to be holding the tie in his mouth, but he’s already gone and done it.
“A grown son.” Reni could kick himself for resorting to babbling around the elastic. “So you’ve been married long?”
“I don’t think never is a very long time, no.”
Reni fastens and tightens the ponytail a bit too hard for his own comfort. “I see.” He clears his throat and turns to the door once more. “If you’ll excuse me, then.”
Sakyo doesn’t try to get his attention again, though Reni feels distinctly observed the whole way to the lounge, as surely as he senses an audience’s engagement.
He squares his shoulders as he resumes his place next to Kashima. It wouldn’t do for these brats or the others to sense any distraction.
Kashima, naturally, smells the unease like blood in the water. His eyes dart to the ponytail and stay there. All the while, Kashima leans around to examine him with a growing smirk.
“Well, well. What are you all dolled up for? Hot date?”
Reni crosses his arms despite himself. “Hot enough. It’s thirty-seven degrees out, fool. Wrap it up already.”
“Right… you in some kinda hurry?”
“If you don’t intend to speak seriously, some people would rather you lot continue to leave him be.”
“So you did talk to the kid. I thought that looked like his—”
“Kashima. We should go.”
The mutterings of alright, jeez, fine contrast the swift herding of their group. Reni takes it upon himself to get the door and see that they all exit through it posthaste. As they file out, he glances over the crowd, catching on a black bun held up by a blue knot. The storied son, then. Reni only realizes he was taking note of the boy’s face when Hyuga drags him off the handle and out into the street.