Work Text:
Kashuu steps into the room the moment glass shatters.
He pauses, his hand moving towards where his sword rests at his hip–except he remembers that this is the citadel, and his sword is inside this room. It really is a wonder, how the human body works. How your fingers might move before thoughts catch up to them… even if there is not always a threat to take care of.
Like right now. There’s no thread in this room, there is only Yamatonokami Yasusada standing in front of ruined nail polish bottles. The expression on his face is one of surprise, like he’s the one who just unexpectedly walked into this scene instead of the other way around. A beat passes, and the two of them exchange glances before Yasusada tries to make a break for it through the door. Kashuu, sputtering, reaches out to grab him by the arm, and when that turns out to not be enough, he settles for outright tackling him.
“Kiyomitsu, why?!” Yasusada says as he tumbles to the floor. He tries to get back to his feet, but his partner clutches to his leg.
“Why? You broke my polish,” Kashuu says. He would dramatically point at the crime if he could, but he knows that the other would attempt another getaway. “You’re even trying to escape!”
“No I’m not,” Yasusada argues, clearly trying to escape.
It’s a struggle that lasts for several minutes, and they eventually both settle for a truce that includes Kashuu blocking the doorway. Yasusada throws glances over at the spilled polish, and he sits in silence until he finally can’t keep his mouth shut anymore.
“Is it really that big of a deal? You can just ask master to give you some more.”
That isn’t wrong. It’s easily replaceable, and all he would have to do is visit the saniwa and he’ll be given a few more bottles. It would be like he never lost the previous ones at all. Kashuu frowns, twirling his ponytail around his finger as he figures out a way to respond that would not start an argument.
Yasusada continues. “It’s not even that useful…”
Kashuu decides to start an argument.
“What? Do you know how much work it is to stay this cute?! Who do you think lifts up the master’s spirit when things get hard?”
“H… Hasebe?”
“Me!” Kashuu gestures at himself, scandalized. “It’s all thanks to me and my refreshing appearance.”
Yasusada blinks, looking back at the nail polish then at Kashuu. “I said sorry, Kiyomitsu… I won’t touch it again.”
He realizes that Yasusada won’t really understand what he’s saying here. The two of them have many similarities, even if he wouldn’t admit to that out loud. But they have to, considering how long they both spent gripped by the same pair of hands. Their differences, though, can at times feel as if they outweigh what brings them together, and it’s mostly times like this. There’s a pause, before he sighs and gets up to leave.
“At least clean it up. I need to go do field duty.”
It’s just a trip to pick up some resources. They don’t run into any trouble, aside from Tsurumaru Kuninaga startling some of the Toushirous so badly that they fall into a shallow river. But overall, it’s more like a peaceful stroll instead of going back hundreds of years into the past.
It was a little bewildering, at first, the idea that forged blades could be given sentience and a heart. Kashuu Kiyomitsu is used to being covered in blood, but it has only been a recent development where it has been his own. And while swords have battled against the raging tides of time, it is also only recently where they can do the same backwards instead of only steadily forward.
So, it was a little bewildering, but Kashuu has been a sword warrior long enough that it’s simply normal now. Being able to see all these other swords, ones that he has never crossed paths with in the past, and ones that he knows quite intimately, learn how to use their limbs and emotions has become everyday life. Seeing this group together, gathering supplies and chatting, is normal.
“Does your stomach hurt?”
Yasusada is peering at him, his head tilted to the side as if that will help him see better. He reaches over to poke Kashuu on the side, trying to prompt him for an answer.
“Why are you asking that…”
Yasusada smiles. “Your face looks like you’re in pain.”
Kashuu shoves him away, embarrassed. “I’m thinking!”
The twinkle in Yasusada’s eyes gives away the joke he obviously wants to say, and Kashuu preemptively counters it by shoving him again. There’s an answered laugh and a returned push, and the two of them spend a moment to roughhouse until Ishikirimaru gets them to knock it off. Once they’ve both calmed down, Yasusada speaks again.
“But you are thinking about something, Kiyomitsu. You have a look on your face.”
Kashuu thinks about the argument from a few weeks earlier. It was not the first time they got into a fight, and it would be far from the last, but something about such a short moment stuck with him. He looks down at his fingers–his nails are painted a bright red, some of the replacement polish that the saniwa gave to him.
“When we get back, let me paint your nails.”
Yasusada blinks. “Eh? Why?”
The look on his face is one of pure bafflement, like he really can’t comprehend why Kashuu would want to do this despite their many talks of why Kashuu enjoys it. Well, they’re less of a ‘talk’ and more of a small argument that leads to them attempting to spar it out in the dojo by the end. But Kashuu thinks that, maybe, this time, he could get through to him.
Or they’ll just end up in the dojo again. Either way, it’s fine with him.
When they head back, Yasusada keeps looking at his own hand, then back at Kashuu’s. He does this a few times before he just flat out sniffs his own. “Is my hand going to smell bad?”
“Are you implying mine does?!”
It’s an easy back and forth. A harmless insult, followed by a retort, and then a laugh as they try to dodge each other’s swings. It’s such an easy exchange, day after day, but Kashuu doesn’t really mind that much, except for the times that he does. And this time is kind of bordering on moments that he really cares about while also thinking it’s silly to be hung up on it.
They make their way back to their shared room, Yasusada settling down on the floor with an air of distrust surrounding him that he normally only carries into battle. It’s funny, and Kashuu almost wants to play a joke on him, but he knows that getting Yasusada to agree to doing this again after that would be difficult. So, instead, he rummages through the different colors that he has lovingly collected, trying to decide which may be best. He eventually settles on a light blue, one that nearly perfectly batches the haori that drapes over his partner’s shoulders.
“Now, stay still,” he orders as he sits in front of the other, immediately reaching for his right hand. The palm feels rough against his, the forever present reminder of their persistent swordplay. He thinks, for a second, that Okita Souji must have had hands like these–and then shoos the thought away like how one might try to chase away a curious cat.
Yasusada is terrible at staying still. He squirms, and always turns his around when he hears someone walking by the door, and keeps complaining about an itch that he has to scratch or else. What should be a simple process takes much longer, with how many times Kashuu has to correct mistakes when he paints over the nail and onto skin instead because of this. He’s highly considering just getting up to find rope to tie Yasusada up with, but he knows that would definitely turn into a fight. It’s fine. It’s all good.
“You don’t get bored doing this?” Yasusada asks once they finally move onto the second hand. He’s staring at the one already finished, obviously fighting the urge to touch the still wet color. “It takes so much time.”
Kashuu pauses, his eyes cast downward to not look at him. “You know… when a sword breaks, a swordsman can just get a replacement, right?”
“Huh?”
Nail polish smears onto the finger as Yasusada jerks suddenly at the question. Kashuu makes an agitated noise, and grabs a tissue to clean it off. He continues to speak, still not lifting his gaze to the other. “It’s not unusual for a swordsman to have more than one sword. And if theirs was damaged and not fixable, they could just get another one. They’re just objects, after all.”
Bristling, Yasusada shoots back. “That’s–it may be true, but that doesn’t rob us of our use, Kiyomitsu! Everything we did still mattered!”
Kashuu smiles. “Is that true for only swords?”
“Eh?” Yasusada frowns, and it’s like something finally clicks in his brain. “Are you trying to make me feel bad about breaking your nail polish?”
“Yes,” he answers immediately. “I can just ask master to give me more, but that doesn’t make me any less attached to what I lost. It makes me happy.”
There’s silence, and Yasusada shifts awkwardly. “Oh.”
Right.
They finish the second hand quietly and without much more incident, but while Kashuu blows on Yasusada’s fingertips to help them dry faster, Yasusada speaks up again. “Can I… paint yours?”
“What.”
Kashuu looks at his hands, and he can already picture what a giant mess that they will become if he allows this. It’s going to be such a pain in the ass to clean up later. His cuteness level is going to go down so many levels, and how is he supposed to compete against the tantous that way? Terrible. Simply terrible.
“Sure,” he finds himself saying anyway. “I’d need to take what I have on now off though.”
“You… you need to get naked for that?”
Kashuu ends up laughing so badly that he accidentally smacks his face against Yasusada’s hand, smearing some blue polish across his cheek. He doesn’t mind too much, but he does mind the way he gets whacked on the arm in retaliation. They end up wrestling, and he has to redo some of the nails again when they get messed up in the commotion. But that, too, he doesn’t actually mind in the end.
He thinks, hopefully, that maybe some of their differences diminished today. And there’s something comforting in the fact that the one person who is always by his side understands him just a little more as they both traverse on this path towards being human. And maybe, together, they’ll actually figure it out.