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Peace had always been something of a foreign concept for Sanemi. When would picture it, he always imagined those he loved. His brother finding a proper woman to marry and start a family with, far away from the prying claws of demons. His best friend finally confessing his feelings to the girl he’d spent years pining for. The Master finding a cure for his illness. But in all his dreaming, he never imagined finding peace himself.
He certainly didn’t expect to find it with Tomioka Giyuu. The man he’d spent so many years telling himself that he despised, that he resented and antagonized so much. It felt like a sick joke when Sanemi learned it was just the two of them left, and he made it clear to the former hashira that he wanted nothing to do with him, even if everyone else was gone. But Giyuu had never been good at listening.
It was painfully easy to fall in love with him.
He was the one there for Sanemi through the worst of it. He’d held back Sanemi’s hair as he threw up what little food he’d managed to get down. He washed the remnants from Sanemi’s face with a soft cloth, helped him put on a clean shirt when it was done. Even when Sanemi screamed and hit and begged for Giyuu to leave, he never did.
And then there was that stupid smile that made Sanemi’s heart stop the first he got to see it, the choppy short haircut he’d asked Sanemi to give him; his way of finally letting go of the past. The way his fingers ran so gently through Sanemi’s hair as he cried into his yukata, the softness of his lips the day Sanemi finally surrendered and pulled him into first kiss.
Everything about him made Sanemi feel a peace he’d never thought possible.
Even— especially now, watching as he sits beneath the sakura trees in full bloom with Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru surrounding him, threading all the flowers they can find into his hair. It’s grown a bit longer than usual, and he’d made the mistake of mentioning that he’d be cutting it short again tonight. Of course, they had to play with it one last time.
It’s utterly ridiculous, but it brings a stupid grin to Sanemi’s lips the way Giyuu sits so stiffly under their touch, fingers twisted tightly in the fabric of his pants. He’s gotten more expressive since the world changed, or maybe Sanemi’s just gotten better at reading him, but if the girls notice they don’t seem to care. They argue over his head like he’s not even there, Makio shouting at Suma for putting together flowers that don’t match, Suma crying to Hinatsuru about her wife being mean, Hinatsuru scolding the both of them for their behavior. It’s truly a mess.
Sanemi could try to help, he supposes, but leaning against this tree several feet away, just out of the girl’s immediate eyesight, feels like the safer option. He’s not sure he could handle them trying to fuss over his hair the way they do with Giyuu.
No, he’s perfectly content to stand here and watch as his lover squanders under the three women attacking him, his expression like that of a drowning cat. It shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.
Sanemi doesn’t even realize how hard he’s staring until the snap of a twig behind him yanks him back into reality. He straightens out immediately, face forming its familiar, safe scowl as he crosses his arms across his chest. When he glances over his shoulder, he finds Tengen approaching, gaze locked onto his wives and Giyuu as he comes to a stop right beside Sanemi.
Sanemi expects him to speak, to make some crude joke or comment about Sanemi creeping in the woods when he’s supposed to be sitting with them. But Tengen doesn’t say anything, he just keeps watching the others with an unreadable expression.
It drives Sanemi insane, but he refuses to break the silence first. So he follows his friend's lead, fixing his gaze ahead once more, though perhaps trying not to focus on Giyuu so much now. But the silence keeps lingering, wearing on Sanemi’s nerves like water wears down stone over time.
Just when Sanemi thinks he might just snap, Tengen finally speaks.
“You know,” he begins, voice slow and measured, lacking its usual flair and enthusiasm. It sets Sanemi on edge immediately. “When I left my clan and entered the rest of the world, people had quite a bit to say.”
Sanemi blinks, looking up at Tengen with furrowed brows. A million different ideas for what Tengen would say had played through his head while waiting, but he never imagined this… whatever this is.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Why my three beautiful wives, of course,” he declares, that familiar energy returning, but still softer than usual. “Turns out, my clan’s way of doing things wasn’t exactly… traditional. So when I came into town with three gorgeous women on my arms… Well. People didn’t take very kindly to me.”
A frown pulls at Sanemi’s lips. It’s odd hearing Tengen like this, being almost vulnerable. He’s always been the one to throw on a large smile and try to bring up everyone’s mood even during the worst of times.
“I used to let it bother me,” Tengen continues, glancing down at the ground below him. “I allowed these people who knew nothing of my life or marriage to make me feel shame, like I was doing something wrong by loving them.”
He turns his head towards Sanemi now, their gazes locking intensely. “But there’s not. There’s never any shame in love, even if it’s not what society considers acceptable. My wives and I all love one another. That’s all that matters.”
Sanemi doesn’t even realize his hands are shaking until he breaks Tengen’s gaze, looking down instead. His fingers grip tighter into the flesh of his arm, steadying him.
“Why the hell are you telling me this?” he hisses, but his voice trembles on the way out, the venom that once laced his tongue now dull and all but harmless.
“I just… wanted you to know,” Tengen says simply, his hand coming up to rest carefully on Sanemi’s shoulder. “You should never feel shame over love. Least of all here, with us.”
Sanemi’s chest tightens, a cold, familiar fear creeping up his spine. He glances at Giyuu instinctively, then quickly back to Tengen. His gaze is knowing, his words even moreso, and it makes Sanemi’s stomach churn.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he spits, shoving Tengen’s hand away. It feels like an admission of guilt within itself.
“...Okay,” Tengen replies softly, allowing the lie to sit between them without question. “Just remember what I said, yeah?”
Sanemi scoffs. “Whatever.”
“I mean it,” Tengen insists, voice sharpening into something more serious. “We’ve all given everything to this world. Losses we’ll carry for the rest of our lives.” He swallows hard, eyes darting away. “So we get to have this, if nothing else. We get to love the people we love. And no one else gets to say otherwise.”
Sanemi doesn’t respond. He feels like a feral animal caught in an open field, like Tengen has sliced open his chest and ripped the heart from his chest, and now Sanemi just has to hope he won’t crush it with his bare hands. Or worse, show others the blackness that lurks within.
His breath is coming too fast now, vision begging to blur. Like that day he first awoke, but this time there’s no nurses to sedate him. So his eyes snap to the one thing that gives him comfort these days.
Giyuu’s lips move slowly as he mutters something to Hinatsuru that Sanemi can’t hear, a red flower being twisted between his fingers. The flowers in his hair have formed something almost coherent now, becoming more of an organized pattern than a splatter of color. It’s pretty. Giyuu is pretty.
Hinatsuru plucks the blossoms from his fingers, nails sliding into his hair to find the best spot to tie into. His gaze drifts then, eyes scanning the woods until they meet Sanemi’s. They hold each other’s gaze for a short moment before Giyuu’s expression twitches, just barely, his lips tugging into the smallest of smiles.
And all at once, Sanemi feels peace again. His shoulders relax, his breathing regulating to something more appropriate. He responds with his own smile without even thinking, heart squeezing at the light pink that colors Giyuu’s cheeks.
“He seems happier these days.” Tengen’s voice is barely more than a breath, like Sanemi’s something fragile and if he speaks any louder he may break.
“He is.”
“Are you?” Tengen asks. “Happy?”
Sanemi doesn’t turn to meet his gaze, even as he feels it boring into him. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Good.” His stupid hand settles onto Sanemi’s shoulder once more, squeezing tightly for a moment. “Then let’s get back to them, yeah? You look like a stalker just watching them from out here.”
Despite himself, Sanemi laughs, shoving his elbow into his friend’s side as they step forward together. “Asshole.”
Tengen just chuckles, clapping Sanemi on the back one last time before dropping his hand and calling out to the group. “Wow, you guys have been busy!”
All three of his wives’ heads pop up at once, but Suma is the first to leap into the air, tears already spilling as she charges towards her husband. “Tengennnnn!” she cries, collapsing against his chest. “Makio’s being mean to me! Tell her to stop!”
“Oh you little—!”
Sanemi drowns them out after that, a talent he’s mastered since begrudgingly becoming good friends with the Uzui family. The fights between Makio and Suma are as common as they are fake, both clearly just enjoying getting a rise out of the other and their husband.
Like always, Sanemi’s gaze finds Giyuu, still sitting just a few feet away, though now alone. He stares up at Sanemi with a half-hearted smile, cheeks still a soft pink that matches the sakura blossoms lying around him.
Normally Sanemi would turn away, sit as far away as possible from the former hashira so no one could ever suspect something. But today, Tengen’s words ring in his head. He had given everything, truly everything. His mother, his siblings, his closest friends and comrades, Genya. The world had taken everything from him— could he not take back this one thing? Just this once, just here? What punishment could the Gods give him that he had not endured already?
So he doesn’t turn away. He swallows his fear, calms the tremor of his hands, and he sits. Not right beside Giyuu, but close. Close enough to raise brows, close enough to touch if he reached out. Giyuu’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, his lips parting in surprise.
“You look ridiculous,” Sanemi forces out before Giyuu could even consider asking. He’s not sure he could handle being questioned right now.
“Careful,” Giyuu replies with an amused huff. “They were talking about doing your hair next.”
“Hell no,” Sanemi chuckles, shaking his head. “They’ll have to tie me down to do that.”
Giyuu gives a small laugh in return, and it still makes Sanemi’s chest ache. Neither of them says anything more, they simply hold each other’s gaze, those dumb smiles still lingering on their faces.
Sanemi watches one of the flowers fall loose from Giyuu’s bangs, dangling loosely in front of his eye. His hand twitches with familiar restraint, a distant voice screaming at him to control himself, that this is dangerous. But then he glances over, sees the way Makio has wrapped Suma into a tight embrace while Tengen and Hinatsuru watch with satisfied, if tired, expressions. And something about it feels safe.
So he lets himself reach out, his fingers drifting through Giyuu’s soft, dark hair slower than they should. Giyuu holds his gaze as he does, visibly surprised but clearly trying to hide it. Sanemi catches the loose flower between his fingers, plucking it from Giyuu’s hair and tossing it aside.
“Thanks,” Giyuu whispers.
“Y-yeah,” Sanemi breathes, his hand still hovering uselessly in the air. Giyuu’s own hand rests casually beside him, fingers running through the grass.
When Sanemi lets his hand finally fall, he rests it directly atop Giyuu’s. He thinks maybe Giyuu will snap back to his senses, snatch his hand away and avoid Sanemi for the rest of the day. But he doesn’t. Instead he twists his wrist just enough, allowing Sanemi to slide their hands together, fingers interlocking.
Suddenly he’s grateful for Giyuu’s quiet nature— he isn’t sure he could hear the man speak over the sound of his own heartbeat right now. He should pull away. Go home, pretend this never happened. He should. But he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired of hiding, of sneaking around like a little boy with a crush. Giyuu deserved more than that. And maybe Sanemi did too.
“Should we do your hair next, Shinazugawa?”
Sanemi doesn’t let himself jump away when Tengen calls out, despite how much his instincts burn for him to do so. He keeps his fingers tight around Giyuu’s and he turns his head, masking his fear with a cocky grin.
“Ah, but you have so much more than me, Uzui,” he taunts, watching as his wives’ eyes widen with excitement. “I think you should be next.”
“You—”
“He’s right, Tengen!” Suma squeals, tugging down on her husband’s arm. “Sit down, sit down! Let’s do your hair!”
“I don’t think—”
“Oh come on,” Hinatsuru insists. “You’d look so flashy with sakura blossoms in your hair.”
“Well, yes but—”
“Sit,” Makio orders, and finally Tengen relents, dropping to the ground as his wives surround him in an instant.
“You’re terrible,” Giyuu murmurs, shaking his head with faux disappointment.
Sanemi just laughs. Maybe he is terrible, and maybe one day he’ll have to answer for all his crimes, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. Just this once, for this single day, he will allow himself to feel peace.