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The light filtered through the open doors to the engawa, a soft, midday haze leaking through. The wind chime let out an occasional note as it hung above the doorway, a slip of paper decorated with Hijikata's crest as its center.
Ours, Horikawa thought. His existence will always be tied to Izuminokami's, the thought always entertaining him when there is not much else to think about or do. A soft smile crept onto his face as he stroked the long, black hair that belonged to Izuminokami, the red ribbon neatly nestled in between the strands that had been kept clean and tidy by his assistant.
"Kane-san. Can I braid your hair?" Horikawa's content whisper filtered through the tranquil air, which received a disinterested grunt by the other as he flipped over to give Horikawa more access. He undid the red ribbon, reminiscent of the identical one around his collar.
A hum twinkled out as Horikawa gleefully wrapped the strands of silky hair in his hands. He meticulously collected the bundles needed to put together Kane-san's hair, methodically twirling them until he finally reached the end, tying it off with the same ribbon.
Horikawa stroked Izuminokami's head, admiring his handiwork. He'll always be grateful to have someone to look after; to care for, as much as he could for his lover. Yes, there were his brothers who, despite only being in name, still treat him as lovingly as real siblings. But they couldn't compare to someone who's relationship he didn't need to give a real label, because they had been destined to be inseparable since they were just objects. A sword forged in the image of another; that was Izuminokami's calling into the world of existence. His inexperience and youthfulness was only one of the many factors that influence Horikawa's affection for him, and continue to up until now. His eyes glazed over to the Shinsengumi cloak draped over the other, a faded teal compared to Yasusada's, reminiscent of the time between their masters. It was part of Izuminokami's pride to display himself proudly as a Shinsengumi sword, and despite this, sometimes Horikawa would hear his whispers in his sleep, asking any deity that would hear out his calls on what was his purpose, other than an object destined for destruction. His inner struggle would always be met with Horikawa, who laid close by, holding Izuminokami's hands between his, and matching their breaths.
It would always be an unconscious thing, creating a semblance of balance between the two despite their difference in size. Matching each other's heartbeats in close proximity, and matching each other's movements in tandem on the battlefield. Even their appearance was reminiscent of the other; Horikawa's red earrings glistening in parallel to Izuminokami's combination of both red and gold, and their turquoise eyes mirroring the other's.
While Yasusada and Kiyomitsu were opposites in many ways, Izuminokami and Horikawa were cut from the same cloth, filling in the gaps for one another to craft a single being. No, they weren't perfect; Izuminokami couldn't stop himself from having an argument with anyone that opposes him, and Horikawa still struggles to communicate when he wants something in particular, but together they fill in what the other can't do, with assistance and mutual guidance.
Horikawa felt that Izuminokami's existence was more important than anything he could have wished for, his eternal gratitude to the Kanesada that birthed the most beautiful sword, and their master. After all, it was because of them that he was also blessed with the appearance of Kane-san's highly praisable human form that allowed him to fully touch, talk to and play with the other. He loved that he could really put his all into expressing how much he loved the other’s coolness.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Izuminokami shifted in his lap, and rose to sit up beside him. "You're thinking too loudly."
"Ah? Sorry, Kane-san. I'll stop thinking, you can go back to sleep." The two hadn't been assigned to any duties around the citadel, with their master deeming it an off-day for most swords, aside from those that still want to continue their duties (like Tsurumaru, who loves taking care of the horses, for what reason Horikawa couldn't understand) and those that have no choice, (poor Shokudaikiri-san!) so the pair had spent most of their day lazing indoors.
Instead of a reply, Izuminokami rested his head against the small of Horikawa's shoulder. His braid had become a bit tussled from sitting up, and a loose strand brushed against Horikawa's cheek. He brought up his hand to rest against the taller's back.
They laid there together in silence, Horikawa's hand slowly grazing up and down Izuminokami's back, their breaths being the only sound in the vicinity other than the inconsistent wind chime. He planted a soft kiss to the other's forehead, thinking of the times where he had to do the same action in the dead of the night as Izuminokami had such restless sleeps when he first arrived at the citadel. Right now, it was only basking in the other's comfort in the soft peace that laid upon their room. Horikawa had thought that the other had fallen asleep, so he moved to lay Izuminokami back down on their shared futon, but was met with piercing blue eyes that instead softened up his heart. His eyes widened as he realised; the other had kissed him, feeling the ghost of Izuminokami's long bangs brushing against his cheek. He flushed, albeit still shy at the thought of being the one receiving affection.
"You know, you can always tell me if something's on your mind. I know you always like to braid my hair when there's something." Izuminokami had seen right through him, that bastard. It's true, that he may act stupid at times and a little ignorant, but Horikawa knows that Izuminokami might understand other people's feelings the best out of most people. Despite always being the first to help out others, or to listen to Izuminokami when he hits a rough patch after a sortie, Horikawa dislikes talking about his feelings, or himself in general. His inner thoughts were stirred again, as Izuminokami brushed his fingers behind Horikawa's earlobe.
"Kane-san, it's okay-" "Kunihiro."
The simplest of tones were used to say his name. His name, used thousands of times, he hears it everyday from his lover and friends, yet, this time, it opened up a dam in his heart. Because he could sense the yearning in Kane-san's voice, to allow him in to help.
All of a sudden, the clarity of a faint ocean wave could be heard in the back of Horikawa's ears.
Ah, but the closest body of water was a pond near the stables.
He heard the clashing of water against wood; against sand, against metal.
The grip on his shoulders brought him back, as he stared into the deep blue of Izuminokami's irises, and it brought him comfort despite sharing the same colour as the sea.
He felt pressure against his back, as he was shoved into the other's chest, and felt arms wrapped around his shoulders. He reached out blindly, feeling the bristle of Izuminokami's forgotten braid as he returned the favour to his lover.
A faint droplet of liquid rolled out one of Horikawa's eyes as he clutched onto Izuminokami's back.
The wind chime still rang outside on the engawa.
"The ocean... I see it in my dreams. They, they didn't want to save me, or any of us, we were los-" Izuminokami softly hushed him as Horikawa's breath quickened, daftly rubbing the space on his upper back between his shoulder blades, soothing the other from his panic.
The tears flowed out, as his breathing slowed to match Izuminokami's. Crying was not unusual for swords, but the feeling and emotions that came with it were unpleasant, for it was an unknown process for those that were once inanimate objects to come to terms with new emotions and feelings. Horikawa didn't cry, he felt even more vulnerable towards the ocean as he did, succumbing to the running liquid down his face.
Bubbles of unpleasant images as he remembered the inhumane motions of being thrown out, disregarded as anything important. He would never be found, and no one was to try find him in that endless sea of metal.
It wasn't anything personal. After all, they didn't discriminate between the swords that were thrown away. But the tiniest part inside Horikawa's heart yearned to have been sent back with Izuminokami. They weren't allowed to change history, something he was fully aware of, but sometimes he wished he could just be there for him in reality, in that museum, like he could be in their citadel. Then maybe, he didn't have to relive the memories over and over again in his dreams and in the gaps of his current life as a Touken Danshi, where he mindlessly drifts to the sound of waves.
"I just.. wanted to be there with you. I just wanted to be something important." Horikawa's voice cracked as his vulnerabilities trickled out. He heard the other’s breath hitch.
"...you are very important to me, Kunihiro. Don't ever forget that you protected him as well, despite everything that happened after." Izuminokami didn't show that he knew about Horikawa's growing nightmare, but it seemed that he might have had an inkling about it. His voice grew fond at the shared thought of wanting to protect Hijikata-san when he died, except only Horikawa had the opportunity to be there. They couldn't have said anything, as inanimate objects for a singular purpose of killing, but to be separated in war is one thing that Izuminokami also wished he could change. Whether it was to drown together, or go back home together, they were unfortunately fated to do neither.
Now, they could be here together with human bodies that could feel warmth and comfort, and they were now bound to a different master with a different purpose. Izuminokami heard that Horikawa poured everything into helping out around the citadel when he arrived, explaining that he "wanted to make it comfortable for Kane-san when he came," but even after that, he never stopped, only adding "taking care of Kane-san" to the top of his list.
Izuminokami's fingers played with Horikawa's short, raven hair as he held him close. He moved down to his earlobe, the crimson earring catching the slightest bit of light drifting in from outside. A sign of belonging to one another.
Horikawa looked up, patches of red around his eyes and nose, and gave the other a quick peck on the cheek. Izuminokami returned the favour to his lips, hoping it would convey everything from his gratitude and love and devotion to his lover, hoping he could replace the ocean that tore away at Horikawa’s heart.
This blissful comfort would always be missed in the heat of battle, the outcome unknown to those on the field. They didn’t have many opportunities to show affection to each other around other sword warriors in the citadel, despite everyone being fully aware of their partnership, but during sortie it was too much of a conscious stream of what-ifs that disallowed them from doing anything. Even worse, when only one of them was dispatched, and the other was left waiting at the citadel, and the sorrowful thoughts loomed amongst them. But now, they could forget all of that in the light of each other’s company, that they are there for each other.
Izuminokami moved to let them lay back down on the futon, with Horikawa on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. An interesting phenomenon, gifted to something that’s known most of its life as a sword.
The incessant wind chime kept ringing in the distance, a disruption to the silence in the citadel. But it was a reminder, that they were here, even through the painful separation done at the hands of their former master.
Horikawa was important, and Izuminokami could never think otherwise. He was his guide when he was born far later into the world, given guidance by the wakizashi to lead their master through war. Just because he had been disregarded by those pushing for modernity, he wasn’t less of a person, and Izuminokami hated that he was made to think this way because of the loss of his real sword body.
Izuminokami kept playing with the other’s hair as he hummed, with Horikawa slowly drifting to sleep on him. He deserved rest, and Izuminokami was determined to give it to him.
The warm air was still, granting a peaceful atmosphere to their room, and the two of them slept for a little longer, forgetting all the things that haunt them in the comfort of their home and each other.