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The first thing he noticed about the little stray he took in was his hair, a striking color, really. It was a messy of curls and an absolute disaster. And it shined, shined even with only the dimmest of light. And the second were those eyes, they were just as striking as the hair. Even on such a small child they seemed uninterested and apathetic, a deep red that reminded him of all the blood he’d spilled. It was no wonder the town he’d passed through had been stricken with fear, thinking the small child was a demon. A shame none of them bothered to get close, because watching the small boy stuff his face in their room at the inn– well, the child looked like anything but.
The boy, with his face stuffed, glances over and stares, and that’s when Shouyou realizes his lips are tugged up into a smile and he glances away, one hand covering the lower portion of his face. His chest feels warm with a strange feeling of fondness that had been absent for so long he’d almost forgotten how it felt.
It reminded him of himself– before all of this. In a childhood that had been lost to the sands of time, a thousand years in the past. Swept away.
The boy’s gaze eventually pulls away from the man across the table and the hand over his mouth slowly lowers and the man speaks. “It’s been a week and I still don’t know what your name is.” The boy, who had been staring at his now empty plate looked up again. The boy didn’t speak, he just stared.
And that had been all the boy had done for the past seven days, he hadn’t spoken once, hardly made a sound at all. He was beginning to wonder if the boy could even speak at all.
The dull stare that seemed to look through him didn’t bother Shouyou at all and he let out a small, satisfied hum now that he’d gotten the boy’s attention, his head cocking to the side.
“Is it safe to say you don’t have one, then?“ Again, he was met with silence and he let out a small huff through his nose, but he still smiled. He leaned over the table and gently ruffled the small, thin child’s curly silver locks. “I’d say that’s a ‘yes’.” The boy, after having had enough physical contact, tried to swat away the grown man’s hand away from him– which earned a chuckle from Shouyou.
The blonde man pulled away, cupping his chin thoughtfully. The little demon began to lick the crumbs off his fingers, growing bored of the older man’s antics.
“…ah!“ The boy jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound that followed after several long seconds of silence. Those dull red eyes of his met Shouyou with annoyance. The man smiled, but he hardly seemed apologetic. The boy looked away and seemed to pout, eyebrows furrowed and glaring at the wall, trying to ignore Shouyou.
“Have you heard of Kintarō?“
The child reluctantly turned to face him again, several moments after Shouyou spoke and made a face at him, nose wrinkled and eyebrows furrowed as if in confusion. Shouyou blinked at the boy who seemed not only confused, but still very annoyed. ‘No, I suppose not.’ The man muttered under his breath. He shook his head gently.
“A name like his would be fitting for a boy like you.” The boy didn’t look up again, he seemed both annoyed and bored of all of the older man’s chatter. Shouyou, however, seemed to have no intent on ending this conversation just because the boy was bored of it all or intent on ignoring him.
“But Kintarō certainly won’t work, will it? Not with hair like that.“ The boy yawned. “…Gintarō, then.” The boy, then, made a disgusted face. His eyebrows were pushed together and his eyes met Shouyou’s own-- his small lips were curled in distaste. He shook his head immediately after their eyes met-- messy silver hair going every which way.
The blonde man blinked, resisting the urge to smile at how the boy's hair seemed to fluff up. “No Gintarō?“
The boy shook his head again, Shouyou failed to hold back a chuckle.
“Hm…let’s see, then…how about…Gintoki?“