Chapter Text
The Tsugikuni clan- an affluent family with respect and resources closely intertwined. One out of a handful of families that managed to prevail through the countless turmoils of Sengoku Japan. The Tsugikuni clan had it all, highly esteemed on the battlefield amid a national rampage.
At its center lay the union between a deeply religious matriarch and a highly superstitious leader. Their peaceful marriage would be interrupted by the birth of not one but two sons.
Twins, to be exact.
Needless to say, their father was immensely displeased, enraged even. The odd, flame-like scar on the younger twin's forehead sent the uptight man into a frenzy. Orders to execute the 'cursed' newborn hung over the clan. In his mind, it was necessary to eliminate any evil that would fall upon his family.
However, a mother's fury is not easily dismissible. Despite her even temperament and the fresh toll of labor, her blazing rage shook his decision to preserve their son's life.
The conflict of succession haunted them ever since- the odd mark scarring Yoriichi was an omen, a sure telling of bad luck. The imminent downfall of the Tsugikuni's hard-earned prestige would crumble in a matter of years!
Well, according to their father, it was.
This was all the Tsugikuni brothers knew as they grew up in separate rooms, wore separate clothing, ate separate meals, did separate activities, and had separate educations.
One was a future clan leader in training, and the other was an avid dreamer with a future in the priesthood.
Michikatsu was dressed in deep purple, while Yoriichi wore a simple red.
Had it not been for their identical appearances, they could not be any more different. Where Michikatsu took charge, Yoriichi preferred to watch.
Sometimes, Michikatsu pitied his brother. He could not speak or communicate well like everyone else. Not only that, but Yoriichi's expressions had always been eerily nonchalant- something Michikatsu realized was not normal after he met the other children in his family. They cried, fussed, laughed, shouted, and whispered at the very least.
They exhibited pure, unapologetic liveliness.
But not Yoriichi. Yoriichi was stark in contrast to the rest of the world.
The times they shared were interrupted by Michikatsu's lessons or the approaching footsteps of an irate father. Each time, he would stiffen up at the reminder of his duties. He'd express his sincere apologies for not being able to stay longer and smile at his twin before he left.
Even when they flew kites and Yoriichi had somehow tangled himself in its strings, Michikatsu had laughed at his brother's expense. It was a ridiculous sight. How could he not?
But Yoriichi's face remained painfully blank, void of any thoughts, feelings, or opinions.
(Perhaps it was only Michikatsu who was enjoying their time together? No, that could not have been it. Michikatsu knew he and their mother were the only people Yoriichi spent time with.)
Michikatsu could not wrap his head around it.
It wasn't until their mother stopped by when they were six that he finally saw a semblance of happiness on Yoriichi's face. He seemed particularly eager to help her walk along the engawa. For what reason, he didn't know at the time. It was just their mother going about her daily tasks- they saw her nearly every day, so what was different about that day?
At the moment, Michikatsu reasoned that Yoriichi needed more affection. It was almost pitiful how much he clung to her side, but he couldn't totally fault him when he remembered their contrasting circumstances.
If he had been born with that ill-fated mark and deemed the "bad" twin, would he have been like Yoriichi?
However, he learned only days after that his mother's stomach had become swollen with another life. She gave him the news with a hug, the warmth of her soft arms being a haven after a tiring day with his tutors.
Initially, he felt hesitant to receive a new sibling. Would they be like Yoriichi? How would their family dynamic shift with this addition? Did the arrival of a new baby mean his parents finally made up? What was his father's reaction to the news?
It was during the pregnancy period that Michikatsu finally detected emotions within Yoriichi. He observed those dull, maroon eyes lighten ever so slightly when their mother passed through, her juntihoe steadily dragging behind her. He would immediately drop whatever he was doing with Michikatsu to help walk her wherever she needed to be. He also began lingering by her room and idly watching her go about her own duties.
Michikatsu loved his mother, but he had always been more focused on training. Not only his, but the future of his entire family rested on his shoulders. He needed to become stronger and meet his father's expectations as he had been raised to do. Simply put, Michikatsu wanted to be worthy. It would make his parents proud and allow his Yoriichi to rely on him more.
He overheard his father and a couple of the elders discussing the devastating impacts of the strife. He had yet to witness such strife himself, but the gory details and harshness deeply unnerved him (the staunch odor of burnt flesh, intestines strewn about, and eyeballs hanging by a thread-).
It was horrifying for a boy like himself even to imagine. All he had was his practical training- would he flounder in between a sea of bloodied bodies and find himself crushed under the weight of a dozen others?
He was just desperate to progress faster in his lessons.
Now that a new sibling was on the way, he wanted to become adequate should any harm graze their vulnerable head.
And then, on a cool summer night, Tsugikuni Tanjiro was born. It was a commoner's name, but his mother insisted the Gods whispered in her ear for it. Michikatsu might have remarked the name's alliteration had he not been so occupied with the newborn cradled against his mother's chest.
A head of black, lightly tinged with scarlet, covered its head. As he kneeled closer, its tiny eyes slowly blinked open to reveal a rich shade of red, akin to Yoriichi's but more vibrant. They looked up to him with a sleepy gaze.
He carefully wiped a trail of drool on the corner of their mouth with his sleeve. In response, Tanjiro closed his eyes and smiled, round cheeks squishing his pink face.
"Tanjiro, this is your older brother, Michikatsu. Michikatsu, this is your new brother, Tanjiro. You will look out for each other and Yoriichi. After all, a brother's love is precious," their mother whispered. Her silky black hair draped over them like a curtain, shielding them from the outside world.
Michikatsu absentmindedly nodded, not really listening to his mother's words when Tanjiro seemed so delighted to see him. The lines of his mouth were wide open, letting out soft gurgles. A cute sound for a cute baby. He lowered a finger to press against Tanjiro's nose, easily sinking against the pinkened fat.
Above them, he could faintly hear his mother's fond chuckles.
Yes, Michikatsu would definitely protect his brother.
…….
The arrival of his younger brother brought unprecedented joy to Yoriichi's life.
Yoriichi gently smiled down at Tanjiro's lying form. The other's stubby arms reached up for him, flailing around in excitement.
Their mother had gone outside for her daily walk, so Yoriichi was tasked to look after Tanjiro. There were plenty of servants milling around, but he would never turn down the offer to look after the latest addition to his family.
Tanjiro's eyes squeezed shut from the laughter bubbling in his chest when Yoriichi lightly brushed his sides. He squirmed around on the mat, his feet kicking the air in glee from the attention of his elder brother.
Yoriichi felt his heart squeeze in adoration at the sight. Tanjiro's smiles may have been toothless, but they conveyed so much joy that Yoriichi almost felt lost the first time he witnessed them.
He wasn't used to such kindness being directed toward him. His father publicly shunned him, and the rest of their clan members and servants were discouraged from befriending a non-heir.
The only love he knew came from his beloved mother and twin.
But now, Yoriichi had three people in his life he cherished.
His hand, not much bigger than Tanjiro's face, gently cradled Tanjiro's cheek, relishing in the softness. Tanjiro's giggles fit gradually came to a stop as he sluggishly nuzzled against Yoriichi's palm. He released a small yawn, struggling to keep his little eyes open in the process.
Yoriichi began humming a melody his mother used to sing. It was off-beat and somewhat disjointed, but Tanjiro seemed satisfied. Chubby fingers latched onto Yoriichi's, the grip tight but nowhere near constricting. It felt…weighted. Eventually, Tanjiro's round face smoothed out under the quiet humming of his older brother, coaxing him to sleep.
He wiggled his imprisoned hand in amusement, but Tanjiro's grip stuck, and it wasn't like Yoriichi was going to wake him up.
Instead, he opted to cradle the infant against his chest. He committed the endearing moment to his memory and the overwhelming tenderness to his heart.
….
Years had passed since Tanjiro's birth, during which he became infamous for his unapologetic brightness. The cherry-eyed boy made sure to greet every servant he encountered by name, and most importantly, with genuine joy. It was safe to say the youngest Tsugikini was everyone's favorite.
It wasn't like anyone had anything bad to say about the boy, and even if there was, it was better to keep it to themselves. Tanjiro's elder brothers may have been babies themselves, but it was evident to anyone that he was the apple of their eyes.
The younger frequently trailed after his brothers- if you couldn't find him, it was easier to look for one of the twins. It was rare to see Tanjiro not with his big brothers. And it would stay that way for a time.
"If you two are going to be the strongest samurai, then I'll be your healer. I'll patch you up after all your battles so nothing hurts!" Tanjiro declared, puffing up his growing frame in determination. The little Tsugukini would find a way to help his brothers, no matter what —even if his father forbade him from the battlefield.
Michikatsu's grip on his wooden sword faltered. Yoriichi only stared at Tanjiro, whose face reddened by the second under his siblings' silence.
"I think that's a wonderful goal, little brother," Yoriichi finally spoke, his loose hair swaying under the light breeze. A soft smile crossed his face at the bold statement.
Tanjiro immediately perked up at his approval.
"And I'll talk to father and see if he can arrange an apprenticeship for you. You would do well under some guidance," Michikatsu followed up. He raised a hand to ruffle Tanjiro's small head of hair.
Their youngest brother was absolutely beaming at their approval, the broad grin nearly splitting his round face in half. Tanjiro leapt into their surprised arms and pressed his cheek against their yukatas.
"Thank you, aniki," he shyly mumbled. Yoriichi ran his fingers through Tanjiro's hair while Michikatsu offered reassuring pats on his back.
"You can always rely on us," Michikatsu gently reminded him.
Tanjiro tilted his head up to meet their faces. His ruby-tinted eyes sparkled. "Can we all sleep in my room tonight?"
"Perh-"
"Michikatsu!" The sword master instructor interrupted. His stern glare broke their hug apart.
Michikatsu looked over his shoulder where the unmarked training dolls were and repressed a deep sigh. He wanted a day to himself- one that he would actually spend with his siblings and mother before her health worsened. How nice it would be to laze around under the sun with his family.
But he knew if he wanted these smiles to last, he needed to become proficient at wielding a sword first.
A slight pout formed when Tanjiro noticed Michikatsu's attention shift elsewhere. He tugged on the purple cloth.
"Aniki?"
Michikatsu shook his thoughts away to glance down at his awaiting brother.
"I doubt Father will be happy if I join you two, but I'm sure you and Yoriichi will be fine. Just make sure to inform mother."
Yoriichi frowned this time. "But brother-"
"Michikatsu!" The instructor called for the last time, a final edge to their tone.
Michikatsu tightened his grip on the sword.
Tanjiro began to resign himself as well. He knew very well his oldest brother had important duties he and Yoriichi did not. Father was hard on him, and bothering him was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Okay, have a good practice today then, aniki. We'll be waiting for you!" Tanjiro squeezed him once more before stepping back. He shot him another bright smile in encouragement, with Yoriichi nodding in agreement beside him.
"Take care, brother," he said. But this time, Yoriichi's expression was warmer, the lines of his mouth pressed in a smile.
Michikatsu found himself stuck on the sight. Their loving faces were crystal clear to him, even as he jogged away and looked over his shoulder at their distant figures waving bye to him.
…..
The welts he earned that day were uncomfortable, but at least he had washed away all the dirt and grime he had accumulated. Outside was pitch black, the hallways of his estate silent save for his careful footsteps toward a different corridor.
Michikatsu tiptoed down the pitch-black hallway and felt a wave of relief when he mutely opened and closed the shogi doors.
"Michikatsu?" he heard Yoriichi whisper. His head poked out from under the cover, his hair messy and disgruntled from a cozy slumber.
He stealthily made his way into the plush blankets, where he could see Tanjiro fast asleep, curled up in a tiny ball against Yoriichi's side. Before he knew it, his head found itself on the pillow as he scooted closer to them, his body gravitating towards the inviting heat.
Tucked under his neck was Tanjiro's head, breaths of warm air brushing against his skin.
He sighed in contentment when Yoriichi finally brought the blanket over their heads to cocoon them. Just as Michikatsu's eyes closed, he felt Yoriichi hold his hand.
He didn't protest against the contact, instead weaving his fingers tighter into the embrace.
Their mother's words were right. A brother's love truly is precious.