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He near-immediately noted the way Yamanbagiri had begun to quietly shy away from him in the days past, the previous normalcy between them has been replaced with silent moments of melancholy that did not belong on the blonde's face.
If the way he refused to meet his eyes didn’t show their growing distance, then the flinch he would do each time he refused his touch would scream it. And if that was not proof enough, then the unreturned kisses would confirm it.
He felt the familiar cold nights of worry and loneliness begin to overtake him in his sleep, even with his lover sharing the same futon: yet that physical coldness was tolerable in comparison to the ever-shifting emotional coldness the uchigatana would offer him.
The final loving “good morning” greeting days ago has been followed by a muttered farewell for every other day, leaving the great sword in a stunned state of emotional whiplash each time. It was as unnerving as it was uncomfortable.
Something he considered as small as waking together and having morning tea was felt monumentally once it is gone, instead replaced with an empty bed and a sigh of melancholy. He kept their routine, in hope that the blonde will join him once more, taking his morning walk to their usual spot in the citadel. Some noticed the missing companion, but fortunately, none commented on it or his turbulent mood as of late.
Previous passing touches of endearment in encounters during the day were replaced with a feeling of being seemingly invisible to the other, and with the sound of the whip of that off-white cloak as the owner turned on his heels and speedily walked away from any unnecessary encounters.
It was driving him mad, borderline insane, and frustratingly no easy answer came to him as he stared at his freshly poured cup of tea. The blonde was set to have a busy week as the master’s secretary, strategizing and advising the current efforts in Osaka castle, leaving him to ruminate at his usual haunts.
What hurt the most is the response to his attempts of shared words of endearment between them, it caused such a monumental ache in his chest the first time he was not met with the blonde’s now far-gone sweet words. A hum of acknowledgment if he is lucky is a painful replacement for “I love you’s” of time past.
This has only further fed into the void of awful guilt that has grown in him, what keeps him afloat is the confirmation that Yamanbagiri still loves and cares for him- or at least does not find whatever offense he committed so awful as to completely abandon their shared room- it is just being restraining due to actions he has not yet resolved.
His previous self would have chosen flight instead of fight, a controlled and self-sacrificial approach that would create a peace that he now recognized to have been a band-aid over a bleeding wound. But he is no longer the same Mikazuki Munechika he was in the past: he has proven his ability and grown, and now needs to use his new state of mind to resolve what hurt he caused by failing Yamanbagiri, he wants to heal these open wounds for good.
This led him to confide to his usual tea-drinking group, his inner circle barring Yamanbagiri: Uguisumaru and Kogitsunemaru, both of his fellow tachi’s giving him a perplexed look as he finds the words to explain his troubles.
Blowing on his cup of tea, Uguisumaru gives him a neutral glance before taking a sip of the tea. A satisfied hum leaves his lips as he places the delicate cup on the table, the sounds of sipping are the only sounds in the room.
This contradicts Kogitsunemaru, who is staring at the great sword with a burning look of expectation- a look that Mikazuki hates to be pointed toward him while he tries to think. This does not take away from the air of refinement the Sanjou blade holds his appreciation of the tea brewed by Uguisumaru being duly noted by a nod towards the tachi in mention.
“You don’t know what you’ve done… Do you?” Mikazuki flinches as Uguisumaru is the first to break the silence, auburn eyes flickering from looking at the great sword to inspecting his tea. He expected such pointed remarks from the fox-eared tachi, not the usually neutral tea-loving tachi.
Kogitsunemaru nods in agreement, finishing the last of his tea before turning to better face the great sword, “I can’t say I’m not shocked, for you to forget such a pivotal subject relating to your schemes.” The fox narrows his eyes at him as if trying to find any sense of reasoning behind his apparent confusion.
He waits for any more commentary from either blade, both of who are usually direct with pointing out the flaws of his plans when he does share them. He is met with more silence, frustratingly similar to how his partner has been treating him.
This familiar coldness seeps into his bones and presses at the insecurity building within him. Steadying himself from making any rash statements or actions, he breathes out deeply and places his empty cup down.
“It is unusual for either of you to keep me in the dark when I ask for aid, this old man is seemingly having lapses in his memory,” he raises his eyebrows and finishes his sentence by squaring his shoulders and his usual laugh- some padding to not give his building frustration away.
Of course, both look right through him, his closest friends, tea time companions, both whom he would call family more than brothers-in-arms, know him best. He drops the act, meeting their pointed looks with a frown.
The green-haired swordsman beats the other to the answer, “Think about it. When was the last time you saw Yamanbagiri in such a mood with you?”
As he is pondering the question, Uguisumaru pours all three of them another cup of tea to give him that time to figure it out. His mind blanks as he tries to place a moment where the blonde was so painfully cold to him that wasn’t before they coupled.
“I… cannot say that I remember. Perhaps I am getting old..,” he admits to the two, staring at the delicate floral painting of the teacup and letting his shoulders slouch. He is met by a squawk of exasperation by the matcha-haired touken and a huff by the fox.
“Now that’s ridiculous, even for you old man.” Kogitsunemaru finally speaks up, irritation rising at what he likely thinks is him just playing the fool.
“Everyone was so upset,” he adds as he begins to raise his voice, ”I was furious at you for weeks! How could you not remember such a big event.” Mikazuki doesn’t flinch at such a claim, sighing deeply as he tries to maintain his composure.
He feels as if the two are now taunting him, speaking down at his inability to resolve his relationship issues, as he feels the impending collapse of his steady composure - he puts his colder and more authoritative Tenka Goken façade back up.
It is not enough though, as that mask falls apart in front of them.
“Don’t speak down on me, just because we are comrades of equal rank that doesn’t mean you can be a b-.” The rest of his insult is cut off by Uguisumaru, quickly playing damage control.
“Now now, there’s no need to be so brash. Both of you know better than that,” he chides them and waits until both backdown. “Let us not ruin a perfectly good pot of tea over such petty misunderstandings.”
He turns to the great sword, offering him his most passive smile, ”Mikazuki. To place it simply, you are an asshole.” He doesn’t know what unnerves him more, the way the matcha-haired tachi said that with such a non-threatening punch, or the fact that he has been called an asshole.
Mikazuki chokes on the sip of tea he was in the process of drinking, giving the other a look to further elaborate on the insult hurled at him oh so gently. Of course, the tachi does not complete his silent request and instead lets him ruminate as he catches his breath.
As he finally stabilizes his breath it comes to him.
Fuck.
The widening of his eyes is all the confirmation the other two tachis need, waiting for him to process the revelation he had finally reached.
No wonder Yamanbagiri has been so distant, the anniversary of his disappearance and of the great invasion was upon them.
No wonder the citadel seems to be holding its breath as if waiting for something to happen.
And it is no wonder Yamanbagiri has begun to relive the feelings of what must have been such a difficult time.
“Fuck.” Is all the great sword can say as he looks at his companions with a lost look, he knows neither can offer an answer to his problems with Yamanbagiri though. “I can’t believe I forgot, it has felt as if it was so long…”
“Wounds take time to heal, especially those given by someone you love,” Uguisumaru adds gently, placing his hand on Mikazuki’s shoulder.
The tension in the room had all but disappeared, instead replaced by looks of sympathy by both tachis. Kogitsunemaru nods in agreement, his anger subdued as he watches the great sword go through the fluctuation of feelings.
As if reading his mind, the fox answers the question that had begun to plague him, “You are the only one who knows how to best apologize to him.” Mikazuki turns his attention toward the tachi and listens attentively.
“Yet remember to listen to him old man,” he continues, “ your habit of fixing all problems by yourself has improved, but it is not perfect.” The impact of those words punch him in the chest, he can’t be upset at such a direct outing of his character flaw- he knows the other is right.
Nodding, he pensively looks at the other two and then at his teacup. Strangely, he feels lighter now that he knows the cause of Yamanbagiri’s emotional turmoil. Yet at the same time, his guilt has intensified- emotions as a strange thing.
Apologizing for his outburst, he smiles sadly at the two tachis. The trio enjoys the rest of their tea time, pushing aside the problem for now.
The rest of his day is spent reflecting on the events of last year, a surprisingly frustrating task. He realizes that he doesn’t remember much of what led up to his attempt at self-sacrifice and even less remembers the 48 hours after he was wielded by Yamanbagiri Kunihiro.
They had never talked about it, he waited for the blonde to bring it up but the discussion was never held, and his recovery from near-destruction was mostly in silence with some chiding from his partner.
Foolishly he had concluded that it was something that he had no interest in reliving through discussion, so he never brought it up either- and soon enough the days in their citadel returned to their normal hustle and bustle.
There was no mention of it even when he told the blonde that he was approved by their master and leaving for kiwame, only a longing look that he had thought was the fear that anyone feels when someone close is about to enter a stage of transformation. He never noticed the anxious look Yamanbagiri likely had at him being so far from his grasp, either.
His return from kiwame, his return from long surveys away when he wasn't with the first unit, all of these returns were met with a relieved look from the uchigatana. Had he truly been so ignorant of the reason Yamanbagiri was so relieved when they were separated? Of why he requested to hold Mikazuki once they were alone, a role reversal that only surfaced when he was gone for more than half a day.
He is a fool, a title not meant to be attached to a Tenka Goken, but how to make it up to the blonde? Neither of them particularly was prone to loud displays of affectionate attention, and such an elaborate display of repenting for his sins would only scare him away.
A dinner would only further create a tense environment between them, and that would include the assumption that Yamanbagiri would even give him the benefit of a doubt and accept his invitation.
The silver lining to this situation was that he had not moved out of their shared room, a fear that if that reality would come to fruition that would cause Mikazuki to collapse into a state of despair due to his shortcomings.
Their room, of course…
There was only one approach that would successfully tide over the frustrations of the blonde: absolute gut-wrenching honesty, which would leave no alternative interpretation but the deepness of how he repents for causing harm to his beloved sun.
This is a plan that he cannot attack from his usual approach of well-timed statements and an almost puppet-master-like influence of his ideals.
Instead, he needs to prove to Yamanbagiri once more that he will be in his rawest and more vulnerable state with him, and he has no plans of changing that by leaving or trying to self-sacrifice.
So for now, he waits.
He waits until he knows that the unit has returned from their expedition and that Yamanbagiri has had the appropriate time to rest up from the endeavor.
It is early evening when he enters their shared room, holding his breath as he opens the screen doors. “Yamanbagiri?” He calls out gently as he walks into the room, the muted pattering of his steps is the only sound he is greeted with, his eyes focus on the lump on the futon that froze at the call.
He waits for any acknowledgment, holding his breath as he tries not to intently watch the lump of blankets. Yamanbagiri has always had a knack for knowing when someone is looking at him, even when they are far away or if he is turned around- he wants to not overwhelm the blonde more than he likely already is.
No response or acknowledgment comes further than the curling of the body under the covers. Breathing out slowly, Mikazuki walks towards the futon and sits on his knees next to it. He holds a hand out to touch the lump of blankets, yet restrains himself from touching the uchigatana before speaking once more.
“Yamanbagiri… my moody sun. I’m sorry…” He begins, watching as the body next to him tenses and curls into itself further. “I never meant to hurt you and I promise not to l-“
The rest of his hastily made heartfelt speech is interrupted by the blonde's rough and tired voice, “Don’t say that. Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”
His breath hitches from such a direct denial, yet his willingness to resolve this issue does not waiver. He cannot further ruin what they worked so hard towards creating, he knows he has to stay strong. Yet the way Yamanbagiri rejects his attempt to touch him by shifting closer to the wall pains him, but he cannot cower away from this any longer.
The coldness between them hurts, but the frigidity is nothing in comparison to the reality of how truthful the blonde's words are.
He is a hypocrite, after all. He has always used his words as a veil from what is beyond his control, always viewed it as his responsibility to shield the others from the painful reality of their mission, lies were but a given to him.
Yet there is something that he has promised to be truthful about to Yamanbagiri:
“You know I love you so much right? I trust you with my everything,” he softly pleads as he tries to win back the uchigatana’s trust he had foolishly thought to already have regained. Or, to at least earn his attention for a moment longer.
He is met with yet another irritated huff and stays hidden in the safety of the sheets, finally, does he acknowledge his existence but the shakiness of the blonde’s voice gives away his tumultuous feelings.
“Once is hard to experience, but thinking I was about to through it twice? It’s a heartache no one else could even begin to relate to,” the physical shakiness of the blonde under the covers only intensifies further.
As Yamanbagiri's frustration finally bubbles over, he turns around and sits up, letting the blanket drape around him the same way his cloak usually would.
It would be an endearing view of a Yamanbagiri of the past if he were not looking at the great sword with enraged, but watery sea-green eyes. The view presented to him was a painful one, that should not be attached to the Yamanbagiri Kunihiro of the past or of the future and present. He struggles to meet those watery eyes but tries to as he lets the blonde vent his frustrations at him.
“No one else knows that fear, Mikazuki.” The tightness of his voice made his chest ache, which only made the next words hurt more, ”That paralyzing feeling that you can’t express to anyone. I couldn’t admit my fear and worry because you were gone and I had to continue to lead.”
He moves in to grip Mikazuki’s outerwear, the first direct form of contact in a few days. It would be relieving if it were not for the gravity of the situation. “You don’t know what it's like to wake up and fight day after day with no way to find out if your partner is truly there or not,” the blonde tightens the grip at his top as he looks at him with wide eyes. ”To ask yourself over and over if you’re in a dream or another nauseatingly never-ending cycle.”
As if possessed by an intense influx of his own emotions- Yamanbagiri releases him and jerks backward. His eyes look at him in not anger, but in defeat, as he unsuccessfully tries to keep his composure.
Mikazuki realizes that this is painfully reminiscent of that painful moment they both silently decided to never discuss again- when his being was being melted back into the time loop, when he was forced to don all white as his being was slowly destroyed by supernatural forces. When the heartbreak turned anger morphed into defeat as he forced Yamanbagiri Kunihiro to "shatter" him, the number of times they had to relieve this moment lost to time in the same way he had been.
Yamanbagiri's melancholy voice and bitter smile breaks him out of his thoughts.
”A nightmare you caused me to experience,” he whispers during the fleeting moment of stability. A moment is soon gone; as was the carefully guarded emotional wall the blonde had built around himself, and instead a destructive whirlwind had overwhelmed him.
Mikazuki watched this intense shift of emotions in concern and heartache, unsure if he should reach out to the blonde that had begun openly sobbing. It takes hearing Yamanbagiri hyperventilate to snap him back into action and ignore his intrusive thoughts of running away, reaching forward and pulling Yamanbagiri into what he hopes is a comforting embrace.
Tense, but not unwilling, Yamanbagiri lets his body fall slack and allows himself to be brought into the great sword's arms. The awkwardness of his body position due to his uncontained sobbing is the least of his problems, his arms wrapped around himself as he is held.
Mikazuki tries to withhold himself from tensing out of concern for his beloved, keeping himself calm as he feels his top being roughly gripped as his embrace is acknowledged. Concern over a ruined top is nowhere on his mind, instead, it is on the blonde that revealingly and thankfully did not reject his embrace.
Gently he places his palm on Yamanbagiri’s head, guiding him to rest his head on his shoulder and letting the muffled cries run their course. He closes his eyes, keeping himself together lest the growing ache in his chest overwhelm him.
His pain of the last few days is laughable in comparison to what Yamanbagiri had been ruminating about for so long, he reminds himself as he blinks away the tears forming in his own eyes.
Not trusting his voice, he runs his fingers through the blonde locks in hopes of providing comfort.
Thankfully his efforts are transmitted successfully, as Yamanbagiri adjusts himself to be more comfortable in his embrace.
The sobs soon turn into quieting cries, a sign of his exhausting emotional reserves. His sniffling and the occasional hiccup makes him jolt in Mikazuki’s arms, who only embraced him tighter, uncaring of the discomfort of his wet and likely snotty top.
The great sword leans in to place a kiss on the crown of blonde hair, then rests his cheek on it as he closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “I love you so much Yamanbagiri, I’m sorry for hurting you and betraying your trust,” he knows his words are not enough to earn the forgiveness of the uchigatana but it is a start.
Yamanbagiri sighs, his hiccups calming but not fully leaving, “I know old man, you can be so hard to trust sometimes.” The blonde’s voice is quiet, his bitter smile hidden by the shoulder he has hidden his face in.
Mikazuki stays quiet, ruminating about Yamanbagiri’s words; in his time post-kiwame he has learned the importance of letting others talk, especially with his beloved Yamanbagiri who even post-kiwame still struggles at times. He squeezes him in a comforting way in hopes that it gives the blonde the confidence to continue speaking his mind if he wants to, thankfully this seems to have been the right move.
The blonde raises his head, finally meeting Mikazuki’s eyes for the first time in a week. Those teary sea-green eyes are always beautiful, even with the storm that brews within them. He can’t help but cup the other’s cheek, wiping away any stray tears with his thumb.
This uchigatana is breathtaking, both in battle and in private, his greatest mistake was almost losing him due to his selfishness he confused as selflessness. The uchigatana seems to have caught onto his enlightenment, as he turns his head and presses a chaste kiss onto Mikazuki’s palm.
“I love you Mikazuki, I would follow you to the ends of the world again,” Yamanbagiri sighs, keeping his tone even, “but you shouldn’t make me chase after you.” The storm of those green eyes is scary, only further emphasizing the long-term impact of the great sword’s selfish actions.
Mikazuki frowns, looking away from the burning look of the other before sighing and meeting his eyes again, “I know, and I’m sorry Yamanbagiri.” His odd-colored eyes try to convey the genuineness of his apology, and the guilt that has finally reached him because of his actions of the past, “And I’ll do better, I promise to.”
Gone is the unreachable great sword Mikazuki Munechika, instead all that is left is his own vulnerability- the feeling he has feared being alone with for so long.
Yet, if facing it is what it took to show Yamanbagiri the seriousness of his commitment, then he will expose himself raw to the man that has done nothing but take care of his heart.
Yamanbagiri continues to look at him in silence, truly trying to determine if his words are genuine or not this time. As Mikazuki waits for his judgment in silence, he is finally met with his answer in the form of a kiss, one that he more than eagerly returns.
One of his hands moves to the nape of Yamanbagiri’s back and the other cups his cheek, bringing him closer as their lips continue to meet after so much time apart. With the cloudiness of his recent worrying gone, his mind finally blanks as they kiss, the focus instead on enjoying the blonde’s affections that he wholeheartedly missed.
It seemed as if Yamanbagiri missed him as well, as he feels him move to sit on his lap and pull him closer. Those battle-worn hands were gentle as they enveloped themselves in Mikazuki’s dark locks of hair, unspoken words exchanged through their kiss that he hoped would not end anytime soon.
Mikazuki was a fool to not recognize how much hurt he had caused to Yamanbagiri, and he knows that his forgiveness will have to be earned. The first step in that was making up for the lost affections of the previous weeks, now that he has the blonde back in his life full-heartedly.