Chapter Text
Despite their near infinite differences, both Tomioka Giyuu and Rengoku Kyojuro had one thing in common: they quietly admired each other from afar. Well, Giyuu admired Kyojuro quietly, and Kyojuro admired– no, adored Giyuu loudly and passionately as though no one could hear him if he acted at a moderate volume level.
When Kyojuro had first noticed his mushiness around his comrade, he made his first crucial error, which happened to be informing the incredibly-loud-but-trying-to-be-considerate Love Pillar herself, Kanroji Mitsuri. Caught up in the honour that shrouded her as her mentor spilled his emotions out, she forgot how to control the volume of her voice and shrieked for anyone within a mile’s radius to hear, “YOU THINK YOU MIGHT BE IN LOVE WITH TOMIOKA-SAN, RENGOKU-SAN?”
And Kyojuro had never been more thankful that Giyuu had been sent on a mission that was several tens of miles away.
Unfortunately for him, Mitsuri’s recklessness had meant that: a) a decent chunk of the corps knew Kyojuro’s biggest secret, b) Uzui Tengen had undoubtedly heard and Kyojuro had roughly five minutes to convince him to not tell Giyuu, and c) people would want Kyojuro to confess, which he was certainly not prepared to do.
It was by chance that Giyuu would stumble into the Butterfly Mansion two days later with his legs marred with gashes, barely able to keep his body upright as Kyojuro was leaving his routine hearing test. It was an even larger coincidence when Giyuu would rasp out Kyojuro’s name and instantaneously collapse into his arms, plunged into a deep slumber after so many gruelling hours of battle and pain. Scarlet coloured stains began to seep through Giyuu’s clothing and pooled on Kyojuro’s skin as he gently scooped the body into his arms, relieved to feel the steady (although concerningly faint and slow) beating of his heart. Giyuu’s porcelain skin was as smooth as it appeared, and it felt chilled as though he had clambered out of a freezer moments before. His sleek hair was tousled and messy, and he took shallow, erratic breaths that definitely didn’t offer him an ample amount of oxygen.
Striding back through the doors to Kocho Shinobu’s estate, Kyojuro made his (and Giyuu’s) presence known by shouting about the situation to anyone who would listen. By the time he had finally placed Giyuu onto a bed, Kyojuro felt the familiar tinge of an ache setting into his arms. He loomed quietly in the corner, observing Shinobu as she plunged needles into his skin and dressed his wounds.
“There’s no need to be so worried, Rengoku-san”, Shinobu said with an air of carefully practiced medical calmness. Then, she added, “He’ll be quite alright, I expect him to be healthy by the morning. I’ve administered some painkillers and glucose, if you were wondering.”
“Thank you, Shinobu. Am I permitted to stay with him?” came the soft, hopeful reply.
“Why, of course you are! Good night, Rengoku-san. I shall return at dawn to check on him,” Shinobu murmured, attempting to suppress a yawn. After a firm nod from Kyojuro, she swiveled on her heel and dissipated into the darkness. The only sound to break the silence was the occasional squawk from a far-away crow or one of the Butterfly Girls padding down the hallway. Apart from that, Kyojuro might as well have been in a haunted house with a dead body.
Giyuu could barely walk in a straight line. The first time he caught a glimpse of the demon, it felt as though he had travelled backwards in time to revisit his Final Selection. The demon that had taken his only friend’s life wore the same visage as the one stood all but metres away from him. He couldn’t bear to look at it for any longer than necessary, and he would do anything in his will to shorten that length of time. So, without much hesitation, he jumped into a ferocious battle, swinging his blade precisely and aggressively, to the point he drove it into his own skin more than once. The fight was over quickly– or that’s how it felt to Giyuu— but he was exceptionally exhausted. He felt dizzy and faint, his mouth was sticky with his own blood and neither of his legs would cease their intense shaking. His only option was to pray that he could will his broken body to someone who could help.
After what Giyuu counted to be two days’ worth of walking, he began to recognize more of his surroundings, and almost cried out of relief as he laid eyes upon a head of familiar fiery-coloured hair. With the mangled remains of his strength, he hurled his body upwards and towards his coworker, where he collapsed for a final time into his safe embrace.
.
Giyuu awoke in a sterile room to someone humming a soft tune and rubbing their thumb in circles on the back of his hand. His heartbeat doubled in pace when he looked up to see a pair of big yellow eyes staring back at him, silently tracking his movements. At that point, they were both too worked up over urging the blush to drain from their own faces to notice the other in the same predicament.
Kyojuro cleared his throat “Good morning, Tomioka-san! Would you mind me asking what happened for you to end up so exhausted?” Giyuu shrunk back into himself and muttered something incomprehensible, but he appeared to not be in the right mental state, so Kyojuro had to cut him some slack. Even first thing in the morning, with frizzy hair and blown-open eyes, he thought Giyuu was drop-dead gorgeous.
When he noticed a tremble in the older man’s lip and saw his eyes begin to shine with tears, he resumed his previous act of rubbing circles into his hand in a silent mention of care. Honestly, that was enough for Kyojuro– to see the ever-stoic Water Hashira reduced to tears gave him the knowledge that something was wrong. He assured Giyuu that he was alright and he didn’t have to say anything if he didn’t want to, but Giyuu seemed determined to actually open up. After a brief retelling of his childhood and his most recent mission, Giyuu felt more ill than he ever had before. He also felt like the unbearable weight that had been crushing him for years had lifted slightly. It hadn’t rolled off of him fully, but someone was there to take some of the weight and let a sliver of sunlight in.
A few minutes later, Shinobu knocked firmly on the door and let herself into the room. She checked Giyuu over and cleaned and redressed his wounds, while attempting to entertain a sad excuse for some small talk. When it became obvious that it wasn’t going anywhere, Shinobu decided to conduct a light interrogation on Kyojuro based on Giyuu’s behaviour throughout the night. Giyuu noted that she seemed thoroughly unsurprised and actually giggled when Kyojuro voiced his report, beaming the whole time.
Kyojuro often thought he cared too much over things that barely mattered. It was in his nature to protect others in any way he physically could, and was truthfully a reason he became a Hashira. Which was why he had offered to take Giyuu for lunch before accompanying him home (just to make sure he was safe, of course– nothing else). He definitely hadn’t consulted half of his colleagues and jumbled together their ideas to get Giyuu to open up more.
In Giyuu’s eyes, Kyojuro was everything he lacked. Brave, fierce and unashamed to be himself– Giyuu admired him. He was bright and jovial and lightened the atmosphere by simply existing. Seeing the two walk side by side was akin to watching the sun and moon engage in a conversation. With each step they took, Giyuu began to fall slightly behind Kyojuro, who strode forward and swung his arms enthusiastically, contrasting with his own silently elegant paces. He had learned the art of silence, not only to give himself the advantage when sneaking upon demons, but also to blend in with the crowds easily. Whenever Kyojuro noticed he was inching further away from Giyuu, he would either stop and wait for him to catch up or hurry back until they were perfectly next to each other again.
They walked in an almost comfortable silence and occasionally brushed hands until Kyojuro built up the courage to reach down and link their pinkies together. Giyuu fought his natural instinct to flinch away– because he really didn’t want to– and ended up with his hand twitching limply but not attempting to escape. People stared at the two men as they passed, but Giyuu couldn’t tell if they looked at the fact they were holding hands or at Kyojuro’s obnoxious hair colour, and he found he didn’t actually care either way. When he was with Kyojuro, the rest of the world felt muffled and muted, as though they were the only people who mattered.
When they arrived at the restaurant Kyojuro picked out, Giyuu was pleasantly surprised. It was a modest place that wasn’t over-the-top or boasted wacky food combinations, and Kyojuro said he frequented it often due to the food quality and friendliness of the workers.
‘Friendly’ was one hell of an understatement. The workers were all less-enthusiastic Kyojuros who’s souls had been claimed by the hospitality industry. They all switched between the happiest people on Earth and bored, underpaid beings who craved a good night of sleep more than anything. Giyuu was greeted by a chirpy voice ambushing him with questions about who he was and how he knew Kyojuro. Thankfully, his saviour gently shut the voice down, and then led Giyuu to a table in a quiet corner. From the fact that he had yet to pick up a menu and was instead attempting to nonchalantly stare at Giyuu, he gathered that Kyojuro had either already ordered in the earlier kerfuffle or knew his order off by heart and was waiting for him to choose.
He fidgeted with the menu between his fingers, unsure what to do now he knew Kyojuro was mooning at him from across the table. He only realised he had been bouncing his leg when Kyojuro lightly knocked his own knee against him, and he could’ve sworn he watched a blush creep up his neck. Turning his attention back to the menu, he let out a small gasp. This caught Kyojuro’s attention: he focused back on Giyuu instead of cooling down his boiling face, and found to immediately regret it. Giyuu’s eyes twinkled with the purest joy he had ever seen, and his face curved into an endearing smile that made his dimples more prominent. Any breath left in Kyojuro’s lungs faltered and dissipated as he drank in the sight that sat in front of him. Up until that point, he had never really understood what people meant when they said their “heart skipped a beat” at the sight of someone they loved- but now he did.
Instead of voicing his opinions out loud, he settled with “Wow Giyuu, what’s got you so excited? Seen something you like?”
“Simmered salmon with daikon!” Giyuu exclaimed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kyojuro made a mental note that that was the key to Giyuu’s heart (This was wonderful news- they had a shared interest in food!).
He wanted to ask him more, wanted to engage with this new version of Giyuu that had been released, but a waitress sauntered over and began taking their orders. Giyuu seemed physically shaky after he interacted with the waitress, and after a brief inquiry, Kyojuro had learned that Giyuu (who had slumped over the table and was incredibly embarrassed over his habit) disliked talking to people he would likely never see again.
“I swear I’m not a control freak who hates having any piece of knowledge about them public,” Giyuu spluttered, “I think it’s just pointless telling strangers things they don’t need to know. Also, what if they think the food I like is disgusting and they judge me!?”
“Honestly, Giyuu, I’m sure they don’t really care. If anything, they’ll be glad you’re here ‘cause you’re basically paying them,” was Kyojuro’s thoughtful response, but he could tell he wouldn’t be able to shift Giyuu’s perspective.
Their conversation’s importance dwindled from there, but they spoke of idle things with each other. Things that made them forget who they were and what their roles were in the world. Things that made them just Kyojuro and Giyuu. Within thirty minutes, their food was on the table and they were devouring it like two starving lions. Kyojuro hummed in appreciation as the taste of sweet potato filled his mouth. He glanced over to Giyuu, who had fallen back into his usual silence, and saw him leisurely chewing on the piece of salmon with his eyes shut. Something like childish wonder seemed to encase him.
Giyuu opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of Kyojuro’s questioning face. He shrugged to himself and weighed out the chances of Kyojuro using it as blackmail against him– before realising that was stupid and Kyojuro was literally the sweetest person ever.
“My older sister, Tsutako, used to make this for me when I was ill or sad. I remember sitting on the floor as she made it and she'd either sing to me- her voice was angelic- or would tell me about her fiancé and how she thought I would get along with him.” Giyuu lamented, his smile fading slightly. “The older I get, the more I realise how much she did for me- she was barely a decade older than me and she looked after me after our parents passed away. That was so long ago, I don't even remember what they look like,”
Kyojuro’s eyes softened upon the realisation that Tsutako was no longer alive, and he was glad someone as private as Giyuu had opened up to him. He didn't want to make too much of a fuss out of it, in case it made him close himself off again.
“Hm. I think Tsutako would get along wonderfully with my mother!” Kyojuro grinned as he remembered her. “Before her passing, she was lovely- as a person, a mother, a singer and a cook. Do you think they ever met in heaven?”
“I hope so.” Giyuu paused. “D-do you think they watch over us? Like guardian angels?”
“I would like for that to be the case.”