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Mitsuri rather enjoys when her patrols of her assigned sector take her along the border of other Hashira’s sectors. There’s always a good chance that she’s going to run into one of her fellow pillars, and the thrill of a surprise meeting keeps a spring in her step.
The sky above her is gray and cloudy. Mitsuri loves it. She also loves when the sky is blue and bright and clear as far as she can see. Either way leaves plenty open for romantic opportunities. Cloudy days like this meant cuddling and kisses and sharing warm cups of tea inside. Clear days meant picnics and flower picking and also kisses.
She tips her head back to look at the sky and takes a deep breath. It smells like rain is coming soon. Mitsuri wiggles in place with excitement. She loves rain. She loves listening to it patter on the roof of her home or the restaurant she’s in or - anything, really.
One drip on top of her head makes her pause. Three more drips on her head make her start into a jog. Demons wouldn’t come out in the rain, would they? Above her, thunder rumbles. She’d have to hurry up her patrol if she wanted to get home before it really started —
The sky seems to open up.
It takes much less time than she expected to be soaked to the bone. It isn’t ideal , but walking in the rain can be fun. She’s almost at the edge of Rengoku’s father’s villa, too. His baby brother is so cute. Mitsuri hopes he won’t mind letting her wait out the rain even at least on the engawa. As long as it has a roof, she’ll be fine.
The gate is open when she comes around to the front of the building. Rengoku himself is standing on the engawa outside his front door, hand on the hilt of his sword like he was about to leave.
“Hi, Rengoku!” she calls, pitching her voice above the rain and waving at him. He does a funny double-take and beckons for her to come closer. Under the cover of the overhang, the air seems a lot colder than it did in the rain. Mitsuri shivers and hugs herself.
“You’re soaked ,” Rengoku points out. He sounds kind of offended about it.
Mitsuri nods and gives him a bright smile. “Yep!” she says. “Got caught in the rain. I hope I’m not intruding just showing up like this…”
Rengoku shifts his weight back and pushes his front door open. “You aren’t at all,” he says. He’s so handsome. Mitsuri smiles wider, despite her teeth beginning to chatter. “Come in, dry off. You need to warm up.” He crosses the threshold and toes his shoes off in the genkan.
She copies him, kicking her sandals off and bending to strip off soaked socks. Rengoku slides the door shut behind her and steps up into the foyer proper. His brother comes around the corner and stops, looking between Rengoku and Mitsuri with wide eyes.
“Hi, cutie!” Mitsuri squeaks. His cheeks pink.
“...Aniue,” Senjuro starts hesitantly, “I thought you were leaving.”
“I thought I was too!” Rengoku replies. “But the rain started and my friend came over.”
Friends! They’re friends! Mitsuri makes a happy noise, twisting her socks together. Water splatters the tatami under her feet. “Oops! Oh, man, I didn’t mean to do that!” She giggles nervously.
“It’s alright,” Senjuro says. “I can make tea.”
“You totally don’t have to!” Mitsuri waves a hand. Well, her socks. Water drips from the toes of them some more. “Aw, it happened again…”
Senjuro eyes her socks. “Do we have dry clothes for her?” What a good host! He’s so cute. He reminds Mitsuri of her own younger siblings.
“I was going to loan her a yukata of mine, if she’s amenable,” Rengoku says, grinning at his brother. “If you want to make tea, we won’t say no. Has father gotten out of bed yet today?” Senjuro shakes his head. “That’s alright! He wouldn’t like the rain anyways!”
The brothers lead Mitsuri into a sitting room. Senjuro gathers up the tea set sitting on the low table and disappears through a doorway off one wall. Rengoku watches her for a moment. She can feel his eyes on her.
“I’ll light the irori and get you something dry to change into.” Rengoku aims his smile at her and motions to the sunken cutout in the table. He loads in charcoal from a basket nearby and lights a match. Mitsuri sits seiza in front of it, careful not to let anything drip on the tiny baby fire. Once Rengoku is sure it’s caught and the flame grows, he backtracks out of the sitting room.
Senjuro comes back with a carefully balanced tray in his hands. He sets the tray on the table and places a clay cup in front of her. Mitsuri sets her wet socks in her lap and clasps her hands together as he pours her tea. “You are so cute ,” she gushes. Senjuro doesn’t respond; just avoids her gaze and flushes.
She can’t help but laugh, though she tries to hide it behind her hands as he sets out another cup for his brother. He frowns at her - just a little bit - and Mitsuri tries harder to stifle her laughter.
“Ah! Did he tell you a joke? He has quite the list of them,” Rengoku says from the doorway. He has an orange yukata so dark and rich it’s nearly brown and a deep red obi draped over one arm. The combination looks like autumn. Mitsuri jumps up. “I can show you where to change!” He motions out of the doorway.
The bathing room is gleaming wood and fairly modern for the traditional style of the rest of the house. Mitsuri openly admires it with wide eyes. “Wow!” she exclaims. “This is so nice!” It’s almost as nice as the private bath house at the butterfly estate.
Rengoku laughs as he strings a clothesline from one end of the room to the other. “It’s pretty new,” he says. “We just got the plumbing installed a few months ago.” He sets the yukata and a handful of clothespins on a shelf. “You can hang your things here and I’ll return them when they’re dry.”
He bows out of the room and slides the door shut. Mitsuri doesn’t hear his footsteps retreat over another rumble of thunder. She hums a tune to herself as she pins her socks to the line, followed by the rest of her clothing as she pulls it off.
The yukata is soft against her skin and smells like soap and the warmth of the house. It is a little big on her, though, and she has to cross it over tighter than her own to keep it from showing anything it shouldn’t.
When Mitsuri makes her way back to the sitting room, she crosses the threshold with a sigh; it’s significantly warmer than the rest of the house. It relaxes her and makes the slight headache she’s just beginning to notice stop creeping up the back of her skull. “It’s cozy in here!” She settles at the edge of the table again and cups her hands around her tea.
Rengoku slides a little plate of dango and castella cake around the irori. Mitsuri beams . It’s just a little snack, but it’s very thoughtful. She was just starting to get hungry. Additionally, he has his own tiny plate of snacks like he knows she’s fairly shy about being the only one eating.
Lightning flickers outside the window, and Mitsuri sips her tea. It feels extra heavenly on her throat - cool enough to drink but still warm enough to quell even the biggest of shivers from the inside out and soothe a sore throat. She hums contentedly.
“Good?” Rengoku picks up his own cup of tea and smiles at her from behind it. He has such a good smile; if he was at all interested in girls Mitsuri would want all over that . But he’d confessed to her after a late night at the izakaya, flushed cheeks and slurred words, that he really, really, really liked boys - especially Uzui, and that he’d been talking to Uzui and his wives the past few weeks.
“Yes!” Mitsuri chirps, picking up a square of castella cake. “So… How’s Uzui? Are you two still talking about things?” Her smile widens, and she playfully wrinkles her nose when Rengoku’s cheeks flush.
“We are,” he says slowly. “His wives think it’s sweet we send crows back and forth. Suma-san adds to them sometimes.”
Mitsuri giggles around a mouthful of cake. “Really? What does she say?”
Rengoku’s flush darkens. “Personal things.” Mitsuri laughs a little harder.
“That’s so cute!” she squeals. “It’s romantic , sending letters to each other! Just like me and Obanai!” Rengoku waves her off with an embarrassed gesture. Senjuro looks like he’s pretending not to hear the conversation.
The two of them lapse into what Mitsuri thinks is a companionable, comfortable silence until the soft creak of tatami in the hallway belies uneven, shuffling footsteps in the hallway. Then she notices the stiff set to Rengoku’s shoulders and the white-knuckle grip his brother has on his mug of tea.
She looks between them for a moment, until the movement of Rengoku piling the little plates together and sliding them around the irori catches her eye.
“Take these into the kitchen for us?” Rengoku directs, voice gentle. His smile is strained and Mitsuri is fairly sure that it’s now being forced. She doesn’t comment on it. Senjuro nods once and reaches to take the plates.
He stands and escapes through the door Mitsuri assumes is the kitchen just in time for the footsteps to come back down the hallway, much quicker this time. “Whose fucking clothes are in the bathroom?” The footsteps stop in the doorway to the sitting room.
Rengoku’s only movement is to pull his eyes from the door to the kitchen and shift them to the man Mitsuri can only assume is his father once she sees him - that’s the same jawline, the same nose, the same red eyes and thick, blond hair. But the man in the doorway is unshaven, frowning, and has heavy shadows under his eyes. His hair is limp and greasy at his shoulders and where it slightly sticks to his forehead. She makes eye contact, and the man’s frown darkens further.
“You know I don’t like strangers in my house,” he says. This tone is nowhere near friendly, let alone fatherly. It sounds venomous and purposefully sharp enough to cut.
When Mitsuri looks back at Rengoku, the strained smile is still in place. “I’m aware,” he starts.
“Shut up. You say yes, sir and throw this cow out.” Rengoku’s father points at her and shakes his head.
“When the rain stops, she will be on her way,” Rengoku asserts. His voice is firm, but it also sounds tired in a way that makes Mitsuri want to hug him and never let go. His smile has finally faded away to something just as tired as his voice.
“ Now ,” his father snarls. He taps the ceramic jar in his other hand against the doorframe. Mitsuri looks at it, then Rengoku-san’s face, and then back at Rengoku.
“When the rain stops.” Rengoku does not budge. When she catches his eye, his expression is full of shame. Shame, she assumes, in that she had to be in the middle of this increasingly uncomfortable situation.
Rengoku-san snorts dismissively. “God, you are such a headache,” he grumbles. “No-good disobedient brat.” The jar sloshes as he audibly drinks from it, and then his footsteps follow the tatami back to another room on the opposite end of the house. Mitsuri hears the slam of the rice paper door in its track in spite of the distance.
She winces.
Rengoku’s posture softens from the ramrod straight back and he wilts like the flowers she picks always inevitably do. “I really hoped he would stay in bed the entire time you were here,” he admits, rubbing a hand over his face.
“It’s okay!” Mitsuri reaches to pat his shoulder, but retracts her hand when he twitches out of the way to prevent her from touching.
“It isn’t.” Rengoku shakes his head. “You should not have had to experience that. I’m deeply sorry.”
Mitsuri twists a lock of her hair around her fingers. “I forgive you,” she says. “You can’t control your family. I get it, sort of. I’m the oldest of six and nobody else wanted to help me take care of my little brothers and sisters. Not even our parents.”
The rain is an uncomfortable staccato above their heads.
“I’m glad to have a friend like you,” he says quietly after a few long moments.
Mitsuri smiles gently and sets her hand over his on the table of the irori. “I’m really happy we’re friends too!” He lets her touch him this time, and matches her smile. She pats the back of his hand. “This doesn’t bother me. I’m sad that he was so mean to you, but I’m not going to let it ruin my opinion of you. If that matters?”
Rengoku laughs, dry and humorless. “Not really, but thank you.” Her smile fades a little bit. “It isn’t my reputation I’m ever worried about, anyways.”
The sound of the rain above them starts to fade. Weak sunlight brightens the paper of the door leading to the engawa at the back of the house. “You’re always welcome with me at my house if you want a break?” Mitsuri offers. Rengoku hesitates. “Your brother can come too!” A little bit more tension slips from his shoulders.
“You don’t have to house either of us,” he protests anyways.
“I know!” Mitsuri nods. “I want to. Maybe even one day you’ll get caught in the rain by my house,” she giggles. “Then I’ll let you come in and drip water on my tatami and serve you snacks and tea and lend you a yukata while your clothes dry anyways.”
Rengoku’s smile becomes a little less sad and a little more genuine. “Just want to return the favor, huh?”
She tilts her head. “It’s not ‘returning a favor’ to me. It’s what friends do.” Outside, birds are chirping like they’re excited the rain storm is over. Mitsuri doesn’t want to leave Rengoku until he’s smiling like he usually does, but she can’t wait to go back outside.
Mitsuri loves it when it’s sunny outside. Especially after it rains when everything looks so much brighter.