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Dark eyes studied the reflection. A steady hand put the finishing touch on an eyelid and Izou leaned back to take it all in.
His make-up was perfectly applied, hair neatly arranged at the sides of his face, the back pulled into an elegant bun. Izou began to fuss with the locks that fell loose around his shoulders when he heard the door slide open.
Irritation rose, and it was at the tip of his tongue to start berating the visitor to knock but as he looked over his shoulder, Kikunojo hovered in the doorway, looking awkward, and immediately Izou's ire softened. His family never had to knock, not like everyone else did.
"Brother, may I speak with you?" Kiku's voice seemed timid. With a frown, Izou shuffled to face him, waving Kiku further into the room.
"Of course. Come in." Carefully, Kiku slid the door closed before stepping closer, his hakama swooshing together with the movement. Kiku dropped gracefully into a seated position in front of Izou, spine straight. Even with the perfect posture he put on, Izou could tell something was bothering him. Silence descended over the two brothers and the atmosphere was so thick, Izou felt like he could cut it with his katana.
Annoyance prickled at him, but he forced it down. Obviously, it was something big for Kiku to hesitate like this. Cutting straight to the chase, Izou asked, "What's wrong?"
What followed was several minutes of a meandering conversation that clearly had no purpose. Izou let it go on, hoping Kiku would work up the courage to get to the point eventually but right as he was opening his mouth to complain, Kiku burst out.
"You don't have to do this anymore!" He bowed his head, fingers clenching the fabric of his pants so tight that his knuckles were white. Izou raised a brow.
"Do what?" he asked, perplexed.
His brother's head shot up, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I know you dress like this because of me! Don't force yourself on my account."
Kiku angrily gestured at the entirety of Izou—his made-up face and kimono—and Izou's other brow joined the first. As dancers, the two brothers were used to dressing up in more feminine clothes and make-up, it wasn't anything to be ashamed of.
It was only after they were on their own that they experienced... backlash from others. 'Boys shouldn't wear make-up outside of the stage' etc, etc. It had fallen on deaf ears, or so Izou had thought. Even after they joined Oden, the two brothers had continued dressing like dancers, having little sessions where they styled each other's hair and 'made each other look pretty'. It was a bonding experience, something they both enjoyed.
They had been doing them less often recently, but Izou had assumed it was simply because they were both busy with their training.
Although Izou had noticed that Kiku quietly shed the kimonos, dressing more and more masculine even as he kept his hair long. Izou hadn't cared enough to comment, hadn't even thought there was something to comment on.
Clearly, that wasn't the case.
"I don't know what you mean," Izou said slowly. Automatically he smoothed his hands over his thighs feeling the silk catch on his skin. He went to tack something else on but Kiku was already talking over him, voice laced with pain all about how he knew Izou was just trying to make him comfortable but he didn't have to. Kiku was a man, a samurai and—
That was enough , Izou decided and reached out to grab onto Kiku’s hands, stopping his brother's rant mid-sentence.
“What’s all this about? I don’t dress like this for you. I enjoy our little dress-up sessions because they’re fun and I like that we both enjoy them. But this—” he gestured at himself with one casual hand before returning it to squeeze Kiku’s, “this is for me. I like it, I feel pretty.” He tilted his head, looking at Kiku quizzically. “Does it bother you?”
He could hear his brother struggle to swallow past the lump in his throat, fighting back tears. “Does… does it make you feel like a woman?” Kiku finally managed to ask.
“No,” Izou answered immediately and his sharp eyes didn't miss the way Kiku flinched. The answer came out a little harsh and he softened his voice, thinking he knew more of where this was going. “It makes me feel good to look like this. It’s a different kind of powerful. It’s like… armor in a way, for me.”
“Armor?”
Warming up to the idea, Izou went on, more animated than before. “Yeah! Like after I put my hair up and make-up my face, no one can hurt me. I’m untouchable. I’m beautiful and deadly.”
“Hmm,” Kiku considered that, eyes growing distant.
“What is it for you?” Izou asked softly and Kiku’s eyes widened as he jerked his head to meet Izou’s gaze. “When we dress up, what do you feel like?”
It took a moment for Kiku to answer, “P-pretty,” he stuttered at last, hesitating. Izou nodded and squeezed Kiku’s hands in silent support. Kiku took a deep breath. “But I… I don’t think I just want to be a pretty man. When I dress up and see myself in the mirror, I–I want to be a woman.” The confession sat between them. “Is… that bad do you think?”
“Kiku, never ,” Izou told her very seriously. “If you feel like that then there’s nothing wrong with it. You can be my cute little sister,” he stated firmly.
It felt like a promise.
She burst into tears before pulling Izou into a tight hug that he returned. Rubbing his hands across his sister’s back, Izou leaned his cheek against her hair, rocking them back and forth as she cried into the crook of his neck. Just like they were children again, Izou muttered platitudes into her hair, waiting until her sobs died down.
Slowly her crying quieted into little hiccups. When Kiku pulled back, eyes and nose a rosy red, Izou felt like something had settled between them. Maybe he hadn’t consciously noticed before but there had been an odd tension. Something he couldn’t name or identify but that hovered in the background all the same. Maybe this was it; maybe now Kiku could live the way she wanted to.
“I don’t think I want to tell the others… not just yet anyway. I need to get used to the idea,” Kiku said, idly wiping away her tears with a middle finger, the gesture feminine and graceful with just one small motion.
“Nothing’s changed,” Izou said honestly. “You’re still you, regardless of anything else. But I won’t tell anyone. I’ll be here to support you in whatever you need, like I always have. You can take as long as you need.”
Kiku nodded, the remaining tension in her shoulders relaxing. He reached out and rubbed the top of her head. “Until then, you can be my little sister when it’s just us, yeah? Maybe soon you’ll let me do your hair and make-up again.”
The smile he got in return could have made flowers bloom, it was so bright and sunny.
“Yes,” Kiku agreed with a giggle. “Yes, thank you, brother, I would like that.”
Izou cupped her cheeks and rubbed away any remaining wetness that still lingered on the skin with his thumbs. He pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead.
“I love you, little sister.” Her hands came up to wrap around his wrists, the palms calloused just like his own.
“And I love you, big brother.”
They sat together, huddled in their own private bubble and Izou’s heart couldn’t be fuller.
A sudden crash made the both of them jump. The hallway outside his door erupted into noise and Izou’s head whipped to glare at the door angrily, nostrils flaring.
“Those idiots , if they crash through my door again, I swear I’ll—”
Kiku laughed before she got to her feet, easily helping Izou up, the moment well and truly broken. “Let’s go and see what’s happening, hm?” she asked slyly, eyes gleaming with mirth.
The flush on her cheeks was rapidly fading, no one would be able to tell anything had been wrong just a few minutes before.
But Izou knew better; things had changed for the both of them. Both siblings had walked away with newfound understandings and acceptances. And with that, a better bond, their connection becoming stronger than ever before.
He offered out an arm and she eagerly wrapped her hands around it delicately. Together they went to see what all the commotion was about.
A brother and sister, happy to be surrounded by the rest of their chaotic found family.