Work Text:
The days and weeks have been incredibly rough. No one serious thing has happened or anything like that. It's just that the daily grind has snuck up on you and robbed you of your mental and emotional energy. You couldn't even tell it was happening, until one day you were out, walking the neighbourhood of Hanamizaka, having finished your shopping, and now on your way to collect the items from the blacksmith.
The familiar sounds that normally lift your spirits grate on your ears.
The normally-delicious scent of the food cooking at Kiminami Restaurant turn your stomach.
Even the sight of the stray dogs and cats playing under the sakura tree somehow got under your skin.
None of them had done anything wrong. Yet, it felt as though everything today was purpose-built to throw you into sensory overload.
You couldn't bring yourself to follow through on your tasks any more. You couldn't approach the smithy with all of that damned noise. Instead, you turn on a heel and stalk toward the water. Maybe getting a little fresh air and some quiet will help you to ease your frazzled nerves.
As you reach the slope to walk down the hill, however, a pair of red horns and a mop of wild, white hair appear.
Itto? Now? Maybe he didn't see you. Maybe you can turn and...
"Hey hey, compadre!"
Damn.
You sigh and put on a fake smile. "Heya, boss," you wave at him, unable to fully hide your exhaustion.
He pauses mid-step, and an expression of shock ghosts over his features before he can recover. He then smiles again, that overly friendly grin so large that his eyes squeeze shut. "Man, I am lucky I ran into you! You gotta help me."
Your stomach tightens as you fight not to give a dismayed groan. Not another task. Come on. You're too tired.
You gently sigh and adopt an apologetic smile. "Look, Itto, I..."
"Ah-ta-ta! Not taking no for an answer! C'mon!" He grasps your wrist and hauls you along behind him, moving at an angle towards the water, but also further west.
Away from the city.
Towards the wilderness.
You start to resist. "W-wait! Itto, slow down!" You try to dig in your heels to break his hold or turn him around, but he is just too strong and oblivious to do either of those things. The only thing you succeed in doing is upsetting your balance and forcing yourself to stumble along behind him.
He finally stops and releases your wrist a short walk away from the shore where a few squat rocks are arranged around a pile of kindling. He gives a big, jovial chuckle and gestures with arms outspread at the meager camp site. "Here we are!"
You gather yourself and blink. No one else is around. No footsteps in the sand disturb the site. In fact, this site looked old and abandoned.
You blink again and look questioningly up at the oni. "Uh... what is this?" Your voice is slightly tense, even suspicious.
"What, can't you tell?" He rests his fists on his hips and grins down at you. "We can build a fire on the beach and roast some lavender melons!" His eyes close again, clearly pleased with himself. His eyes snap open and his expression relaxes as if in realization. "Oh yeah! Also," he trails off and starts rifling through his pockets. A long, uncomfortable moment passes. You listen to him mutter to himself, and your gaze wanders toward the water. The sun was low in the sky to the west, casting an orange glow that reflects on the water. You begin to relax a little, when Itto's loud and overbearing voice pierces your budding calm.
"Aha! I knew I had it!" He holds up a small instrument in his fist, raising it to the sky as if in a toast.
"Is that..?" You curiously cock your head.
"Yup!" He lowers his hand and turns to show you his drum - the one he uses for the gang's normal drumalongs.
A small spark of gladness warms your spirits. Has he brought you here for a private drumalong?
He grins and motions toward the camp site before wandering toward one of the larger stone stools. He doesn't bother brushing off the moss and lichens before he sits himself down, resting the drum on the seat in front of him.
You follow suit, finding a suitable rock to perch upon. The greenery on the surface serves as a decent cushion against the hard stone slab.
Itto leans down and strikes a flint against a stone. A few tries is all it takes to spark the dried wood and grasses, and before long, he rolls a chunk of firewood onto the small flame.
When he sits back,, he falls silent. The sinking sun turns the sky from a fiery orange, to a beautiful, deep purple, and the area grows dark.
There is something oddly calming about the world around you disappearing into the dark. The small fire before you is just enough to light the circle of stone seats, including Itto's face, which to your surprise looks intense and thoughtful as he stares into the flames.
An idea passes through your mind. You take out your bag and produce two bright purple melons. You watch Itto, but he seems far away in thought/
The sound of squelching snaps him from his trance. His eyes dart toward the source of the sound, and he sees you jamming two sturdy sticks into the earth, each tipped with lavender melons, held up to the fire.
A smile curls the corners of his lips. He thought he would have to work harder to get you to participate. When you look up at him again, he pretends to need to stretch, giving an obnoxious, over-the-top groan of satisfaction that is clearly pageantry. He didn't want to get caught staring at you.
You smile at him. What a goof. You had broken the silence with sounds that could have been horrifying and disturbing if he didn't see the fruits on a skewer for himself. You return to your seat and pull your legs under you in criss-cross fashion.
"Alright!" He grins and pulls his legs up the same way, cradling the drum on his lap. "It's time for The Almighty Arataki Itto Mini Stress Relief Drumalong!" His voice booms much louder than necessary, in full Itto fashion, as if he was making an announcement to a crowd instead of hanging out with you alone.
Something about his boisterous and obnoxious manner has grown on you in a way that defies explanation. He starts to tap on the drum in a simple, but musical rhythmic beat. As you begin to bob your head to the beat, he begins to sing.
It is easy to forget that Itto has a beautiful singing voice. He is normally so grating and so intent on looking full of himself that most people outside of his gang don't get to hear it.
It isn't that he is particularly skilled. Rather, his soulful sincerety and commitment to the notes of his song make his joy infecttious. Despite his average skill, he has an above-average presence in the way he sings.
You begin to drum your hands against your knees in time with his song, lending your own flavour to the music.
Before you know it, your stress and sensory overload begins to melt away, carried up to the sky with the woodsmoke and the booming aria that accompanies it.