Work Text:
Arms
“Look! Look look look look look!!”
Tomona’s hand stills on his biwa, and he raises his head as Inu-Oh’s running feet approach him. He sets aside the instrument, and Inu-Oh crashes to a seat on the floor right in front of him, grabbing both of his wrists.
“Look! Look at my new arms!”
Tomona smiles at his enthusiasm, and Inu-Oh releases his hands and holds his own arms out for inspection. Tomona touches Inu-Oh’s fingertips lightly with his own, and Inu-Oh smacks their palms together.
“Come on, come on, I’m not made of glass.”
Tomona’s smile widens, but he still keeps his touches feather-light as he passes from the fingers onto the palms. The skin is smooth and warm under his touch, damp with sweat, and he can feel Inu-Oh’s pulse thrumming rapidly as he reaches his wrists.
“What if I prefer touching you gently?”
Inu-Oh huffs impatiently. “How can you be so crazy on stage and so boring off it?”
Tomona reaches the insides of his elbows and pinches the skin there. Inu-Oh yelps.
“Hey!”
“Best be careful what you say to the man who has you at his mercy,” Tomona replies, his fingers curling around Inu-Oh’s biceps and giving a gentle squeeze. He hums in appreciation, and he can hear the grin in Inu-Oh’s voice when he says, “See? You never would have known how strong I am if you had kept on like that.” Tomona just shakes his head, his hands traveling up to Inu-Oh’s shoulders. The wig is scratchy against his fingers.
“So? Do you like them?”
Tomona nods, slowly and seriously. Then he darts his fingers into Inu-Oh’s armpits and Inu-Oh yelps again and jumps to his feet.
“I do,” Tomona says, laughing.
Scales
Tomona waits behind the curtain—still billowing from the performance—for Inu-Oh, his biwa slung over his shoulder. Inu-Oh leaps down from above him and rolls when he hits the ground, then leaps to his feet.
“Tomonaaaaaai, feel my new back!”
Tomona holds his hands up, palm out, and Inu-Oh turns around and presses his sweaty, heaving shoulders against them. Tomona spreads his fingers out across his skin and trails them gently down on either side of Inu-Oh’s spine.
“I’m so strong, Tomona, feel!”
Inu-Oh flexes, and Tomona feels the muscles in his back tense and bunch under his fingertips.
“You are very strong, and very handsome.”
Inu-Oh’s shoulders hunch, and he lets out a giggle.
Tomona’s hands skim around his narrow waist to his stomach, and he feels Inu-Oh shiver against him as he pulls their bodies flush. He turns his face into Inu-Oh’s shoulder and ghosts his breath over the skin before leaving a light kiss. Inu-Oh’s breath catches, and Tomona smiles to himself, then trails kisses up the side of his neck.
“Do you like that?”
Inu-Oh nods eagerly, and so Tomona does it more, occupying himself with the skin he can reach to give him the patience to wait for what Inu-Oh has yet to reveal to him.
Face
Inu-Oh slides the door to their room at the inn shut forcefully, pulling Tomoari along by the hand. “Tomoari, Tomoari, my face, I haven’t seen it, is it beautiful?” He sits Tomoari down on the bed and kneels in front of him, taking his hands and placing them on his cheeks.
Tomoari feels Inu-Oh’s breath puff against the heel of his hand, he feels smooth, supple skin under the thick makeup; he feels the heat of Inu-Oh’s skin. Inu-Oh’s shallow, quick breaths fill the silence as Tomoari, trembling with eagerness, starts to move his fingertips over Inu-Oh’s face. He comes across the cheekbones first and presses on them gently, finding them high and prominent. Upwards, around the eyes, to the forehead, where the brow is strong and defined. Upwards again to the hair, soft and fine. Downwards, to the nose, straight and delicate. Downwards, skirting the lips, to the chin, which he grips with his fingers. The ghost of a laugh puffs out against his fingers.
Upwards, over the cheekbones to the eyes, which flutter closed as his fingertips approach.
“What color are they?” Inu-Oh asks softly, barely a whisper.
Tomoari leans in and kisses each eyelid, feeling the way they flutter and twitch.
“The richest brown.”
“Are they beautiful?”
Tomoari removes his fingers from Inu-Oh’s eyelids, allowing them to open again. He opens his own eyes, knowing that his milky gaze will be pointed directly at Inu-Oh’s.
“Yes.”
Inu-Oh releases a small, shaky breath, and Tomoari can hear the smile in it.
Tomoari’s fingers descend again, over the cheekbones, past the nose, and at last, to the lips. They are soft and warm against his fingertips, and he can feel Inu-Oh’s breath catch as he explores them. Inu-Oh tilts his chin up towards Tomoari, and Tomoari brings his face close, until their mouths are sharing the same air. He pauses there, and Inu-Oh closes the gap, pressing their lips together.
Tomoari’s hands shift to cup Inu-Oh’s cheeks, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Inu-Oh responds eagerly, rising onto his knees and sliding his hands up Tomoari’s thighs. Tomoari pulls away from the kiss, and Inu-Oh follows the motion, a soft moan escaping his throat. Slowly, Tomoari leans back onto the bed, its frame creaking, and his hands skim down Inu-Oh’s arms to his hands, tugging him forward. Inu-Oh obeys, climbing up onto the bed and straddling Tomoari’s thighs, then bending over to kiss him again. Inu-Oh’s silky hair brushes against Tomoari’s face, and Tomoari tangles his fingers in it.
Tomoari rocks his hips up into Inu-Oh’s, and Inu-Oh breaks the kiss, a sharp gasp hissing through his teeth. Tomoari opens his eyes again and brings his hands up to cradle the sides of Inu-Oh’s face.
“You are beautiful.”
A sound caught between a sob and a moan slips from Inu-Oh’s lips, and he bows his head, grinding his hips down.
They make love until the afternoon sun has sunk low to the horizon, casting purple and blue over the undersides of the clouds, and then they lie together, skin to skin, with nothing between them.
Inu-Oh leaves their bed reluctantly the next day for his appointment with the shogun, pressing lingering kisses to Tomoari’s lips, his eyes, his throat, and, when he at last says goodbye, the tips of his fingers. Tomoari smiles as he watches Inu-Oh go, safe in the knowledge that he will return soon.
In the meantime, he bathes and dresses himself, every mark he encounters on his body from their lovemaking a delightful discovery. As he is combing through his hair, he hears shouting from outside. Swift steps carry him to the window, and he listens. When he picks his own name out among the voices, his heart stills in his chest. He casts his comb aside and hurries out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. Outside, the sun is heavy and hot, and he comes to a standstill on the dusty street.
“Tomoari’s troop is hereby disbanded!”
A wave of dizziness crashes through him, and desperately, he stumbles into a run that carries him faster and faster down the street, until he’s running full tilt, hardly noticing the people he bumps into. At last, his shaking fingers encounter the cool wood of the sign he’s looking for, and he runs inside.
But it’s too late, it’s far too late, and he knows that, but he can’t stop fighting, and then it’s all over.
After he’s released from shogunate custody, he tries to go to the palace, where he’s heard the shogun is still hosting his beloved, but all he can do is beg and cry at the gates for them to let him in.
When he tries to sneak in, they break his legs and throw him back onto the streets.
He clings to his own name—Tomoari, “we are here,”--but without the other half of that name, it sounds hollow. So he tells their story, his voice and his biwa broken and out of tune. He sings of their love because he can do nothing else. And when death comes, he welcomes it.
He waits, after that, biwa cradled in his arms, damp earth packed in tightly around him. He waits, and he wants to forget what he’s waiting for, but he can’t. Inu-Oh is there in every thrum of the strings, in every melody he recalls, in every word his lips know how to shape.
And at last, he’s there.
He comes brightly, brighter than Tomona remembers him ever being. He is joyful, and beautiful, and his beauty awakens something in Tomona; the spark that only Inu-Oh knew how to ignite. His biwa, once rotted through, is restored whole, and the first notes he plucks from its strings are sweeter than life itself. Their youth is restored to them, and Tomona’s eyes are opened for the first time in centuries to see Inu-Oh’s eyes blinking back at him—yes, they are a rich brown—from behind a gourd mask.
He reaches forward to touch it, and Inu-Oh shies back.
“I want to see you,” Tomona says, his voice soft, his hand still outstretched.
Inu-Oh ducks his head, casting his eyes into shadow, and his hand curls around the side of the mask so his fingers can tap on it agitatedly.
“You tried to show me your face once before, but I couldn’t see it. I want to see it now.”
Inu-Oh shrinks further, his other hand coming up to cover his mask. His nails scratch audibly against it.
“Here.” Tomona squeezes his eyes shut and holds his hands out palm-up. “Will you let me look at you like this?”
He can hear Inu-Oh fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot, fingertips drumming on the mask, a low hum coming from deep in his throat. He waits, standing absolutely still, and at last, Inu-Oh bounds up to him.
“Okay,” he says, and there is fear behind the bravado in his tone.
Tomona reaches out for him, placing his hands around Inu-Oh’s small, rounded ribcage and feeling it rise and fall sharply with each breath. He lifts him off the ground and sets him down on the bridge’s railing. Inu-Oh giggles nervously and swings his legs back and forth, heels striking the plank of wood behind them.
“We will start with your legs,” Tomona says, kneeling. “I know them well already.”
He places his hands on the tops of Inu-Oh’s feet, and yes, these are the same. He knows them by heart already, but he makes himself move slowly as he slides his fingertips inexorably upwards. Inu-Oh’s leg jerks when he reaches the underside of his knee, and Tomona smiles to himself, then slips one hand back down to swipe his fingers across the sole of his foot. Inu-Oh yelps and yanks his foot away from Tomona, and Tomona tilts his head back and laughs. After a moment, Inu-Oh joins in. More than anything, Tomona wants to see Inu-Oh’s face, but he reminds himself to be patient. He slides his hands all the way back up Inu-Oh’s legs as he stands, and they come to rest on his thighs.
“Your arms came next,” Tomona says, taking a step back and holding a hand out.
Inu-Oh doesn’t hesitate before putting his long-fingered hand into Tomona’s. Tomona puts his other hand on top of it and gives it a soft squeeze. He knows this hand, has seen it and touched it many times before. It’s the arm attached to it that he’s curious about.
He reaches up and tugs at the string binding the sleeve tightly around Inu-Oh’s wrist, pulling it free in one quick motion. He can feel Inu-Oh’s gaze burning holes into him as he pushes the sleeve up as far as he can reach. He returns to Inu-Oh’s wrist and lowers his fingers to touch it. He finds coarse, bristly hair, too sparse to be called fur, and beneath that, leathery skin and wiry muscles that twitch and jump with every touch.
He realizes then that Inu-Oh has stopped breathing, and he pauses to turn his face towards him. “Is something wrong?”
There is a whisper of movement as Inu-Oh shakes his head quickly, hair dragging over his shoulders.
Even so, Tomona pulls the sleeve back down and releases Inu-Oh’s hand. He laces his fingers with his other hand next, and he gives it a squeeze.
“Your back next.”
Inu-Oh stiffens, fingers drumming on the back of Tomona’s hand. But then he nods sharply, and, releasing Tomona’s hand, jumps down from the railing. There’s a soft snap as Inu-Oh unties the sash at his waist and whips it off of his body, and then he squirms out of his yukata.
Tomona approaches him from behind, and the moment his fingertips make contact with Inu-Oh’s shoulder, he can feel how rapidly his heart is beating. He withdraws his hand and asks, “Are you afraid?”
Inu-Oh nods.
“Of what?”
There is a moment of stillness, and then Inu-Oh shakes his head.
“Can I touch you?”
Inu-Oh nods.
Tomona steps closer to him, until they are no more than a breath apart, and he lowers his hand to Inu-Oh’s back. He finds scales, thick and ridged, like an ogre’s toenails left too long untrimmed. The thought makes him chuckle softly, and Inu-Oh instantly whips his head around.
“What? What is it?”
“Ah, nothing,” Tomona replies, rubbing his thumb over the surface of one scale in a soothing gesture. “It’s just that these feel like a toenail.”
Inu-Oh reaches back, and his long fingers skim over the scales. “You’re right,” he says, a nervous laugh escaping him..
Tomona steps around to face Inu-Oh again, fingertips ghosting over his waist. He can feel the moment Inu-Oh’s eyes land on his face, and he has to fight to keep his own eyes closed. He brings his hand up to Inu-Oh’s chest, and he encounters the same wiry hair and leathery skin that he had on his arms. Inu-Oh’s heart beats hard against his fingertips, rapid and uneven.
“Your face comes next,” Tomona says, voice dropping almost to a whisper.
Inu-Oh steps back, fingers gripping the mask again as he shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not beautiful.”
“Why should that matter?”
“I was beautiful before, and you wanted me. But this face has only ever scared people.”
“I’m not afraid. It’s your face, and I want to see it.”
“It’s hideous.” The words are spoken like an incontrovertible fact.
Tomona opens his eyes, and his gaze catches on Inu-Oh’s lower eye, peering up at him from behind the mask.
“I am not afraid,” he repeats.
Inu-Oh’s nails scrabble against the mask, and his eyes flick back and forth over Tomona’s face. After a long moment, he says, “Close your eyes.”
Obediently, Tomona does so, and he holds his hand out, palm-up, for Inu-Oh to take when he’s ready. He hears him untie the cord, and he waits, heart in his mouth, to hear him let the mask fall. It takes several breaths, but at last, he hears it clatter against the wooden planks.
Inu-Oh’s fingers are trembling when he takes Tomona’s hand to bring it towards his face. He stops short of it, and Tomona is close enough that he can feel Inu-Oh’s breath on the heel of his hand. Then Inu-Oh seems to steel himself, and he brings Tomona’s hand the rest of the way. Tomona’s breath catches in his throat when his fingers make contact.
He feels cold, leathery skin under his fingertips. It’s stretched thin, like leather on a tanner’s rack. He can’t move his fingers for a long moment, the silence so thick all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. And then he does. He finds a protrusion of bone first and presses on it gently. Upwards, around one eye, to the forehead, uneven and lumpy. Upwards again to the hair, coarse and thick. Downwards, skirting the other eye, to the rounded jaw, which he traces with his fingers. There is saliva coating the skin in places. Upwards, past the mouth to the lower eye, which flutters closed as his fingertips approach.
Inu-Oh swallows thickly.
Upwards, to the upper eye, which sits sideways. And then his fingers descend again, over the protrusions of bone, past the lower eye, and at last, to the mouth. It is wide, stretching from side to side across Inu-Oh’s entire jaw. The teeth are uneven and jagged in places. The lips are almost non-existent, stretched thin over the gums. Tomoari brings his hand up to cup the side of Inu-Oh’s face, and his fingers are trembling. Tears prick at his eyes, and he leans forward to press a fervent kiss to the skin between the lower eye and the mouth.
A hoarse, shaky exhale escapes Inu-Oh, and he says, “I’m sorry, I—I don’t think I can—”
“It’s all right,” Tomoari whispers, voice choked away by tears, as he rests his forehead against Inu-Oh’s. “I don’t mind.”
“I don’t understand,” Inu-Oh chokes out, his shoulders beginning to tremble with sobs.
Tomoari swallows at the lump in his throat, and he strokes the sides of Inu-Oh’s face with his thumbs. “Can I look at you?”
Inu-Oh takes a shuddering, uneven inhale, and his shoulders hunch, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Please, will you let me see you?” Tears slip out from beneath Tomoari’s eyelids.
Inu-Oh nods shakily.
Tomoari’s eyelids tremble as he starts to open them, slowly, but Inu-Oh doesn’t ask him to stop. Bit by bit, his beloved comes into focus. Muddy grey skin stretched over lumpy bones; a grinning mouth with jagged teeth; coarse, tangled hair framing an elongated face; and warm, brown eyes glassy with tears. Tomoari’s vision blurs, and he blinks hard to clear it. He can’t speak past the lump in his throat, so instead he speaks with kisses, planting them everywhere he can reach on Inu-Oh’s face until he tastes Inu-Oh’s tears, streaming only from his lower eye, mingling with his own tears on his lips.
You are beautiful, he says. You are beautiful, and you are mine, and I want you.
They make love, and it is halting and careful where before it had brimmed with heat and passion, but when they lie in each other’s arms, looking up at the star-studded sky, they are still the same two who had declared “we are here.”