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Kashuu Kiyomitsu is a man of very little wants. All he wants are attention, beauty, charm, fashionable clothes, a whole other things, love and definitely being loved unconditionally, unwaveringly. Honestly, it’s not that hard to give someone as lovely as him!
He’s very lovable!
Even Yasusada, the simpleton that he is, knows it!
So it’s truly… annoying, yes that’s the word (not heartbreaking, because he’s stronger than that; not sad, because tears will mess up his make-up), when there are people who don’t appreciate his looks and beauty. Especially so when they say their critiques so very loudly so that others can hear it.
That even Yasusada, the simpleton who pretends to be a goody-goody student buried face-first in his reading assignments, hears it!
“—hey, you don’t have the right to insult Kiyomitsu, you know?”
“Eh what do you mean ‘right’?!” Why is there such a thing as a ‘right’ to insult him?! Nobody should have that! “Also, why are you butting in on my business, Yasusada?!”
Because Yasusada is a simpleton through and through, he doesn’t care much for things such as common sense. “Kiyomitsu’s heart is very fragile, so you should quit it, okay.”
“My heart isn’t fragile!!! What the hell are you saying?!”
“What are you, his bodyguard?!”
“Hey—!” Why the hell are they ignoring him?! Someone as wonderful as him! Does this mean that he’s really not loved after all?! Though to be considered as someone having a bodyguard isn’t half-bad… but that’s not the point!
“I’m his…” There’s a pause as Yasusada closes his book and looks like he’s considering what to say next. The longer the pause stretches out, the wider the nasty smiles of his bullies get, the redder his face feels. “…it’s nothing to you, ne?”
Why is that?!
Why can’t Yasusada just say the simple truth meant for a simpleton—that they’re childhood friends, with an inseparable relationship born of being born to houses beside each other?! Why does he have to furnish it with so much suspense?! It’s bad for his heart! Even though it’s in no way fragile!
“Let’s go, Kiyomitsu.”
“We still have class!”
“Let’s go,” Yasusada’s grabbing him by his arm and it shouldn’t make his face grow hot, except for anything but annoyance that he’s being manhandled and his clothes will wrinkle.
His classmates, who said very mean words about his enthusiastic interest relating to make-up and nail polish, are actually still saying some other words that he can’t hear because Yasusada’s muttering something about ‘lose your head and die’ against his ears.
He sighs and mourns the loss of his chance to make a wonderful impression to his classmates yet again.
* * *
Kashuu Kiyomitsu is a man of very little needs. All he needs are attention, beauty, charm, fashionable clothes, a whole other things, love and definitely being loved unconditionally, unwaveringly. Honestly, it’s not that hard to give someone as lovely as him!
He’s someone you’d love to spoil rotten!
Even Yasusada, the simpleton that he is, knows it!
“Lose your head and die!”
See, annoyingly simple and clingy Yasusada can be, he knows how to treat Kiyomitsu right.
Classmates of theirs who make fun of his make-up, who tug on his crimson scarf that’s so striking (though not as vivid as his eyes), who shove him unkindly against metal lockers and wooden tables that causing him to chip his nails as he brace himself—said classmates are now cowering in fear that’s so different from how high-and-mighty they were hours earlier.
“—wait—stop—please—!”
Because Yasusada is a simpleton through and through, he doesn’t care much for things such as common sense: “You hurt Kiyomitsu, so of course you’d die, ne? Heh, heh, of course, right?”
Giggling like a particularly delighted child, Yasusada swings his sword down in an arc that reminds Kiyomitsu of the moon illuminating this after-school activity of theirs.
“Don’t talk to Kiyomitsu ever again,” Yasusada scolds them like a particularly fiery mother, but given that they’re already bleeding to death on the school’s unused shed, it’s not like they can respond or anything. “Don’t stare at him. Don’t—”
“Ehhhh, you still not done, Yasusada?”
He’s starting to get hungry from all this. It’s absolutely filling to see someone work so hard to punish those who hurt him (not that they were successful in hurting him, he’s strong, he’s not fragile, he’s always beautiful and being hurt means losing that beauty). But there are some things that cannot be completely taken over by mere feelings and sentiments. He needs to, like, actually eat food. Diets are all well and good to maintain his figure, but proper nourishment at proper intervals is key.
“I’m getting hungry! You have to treat me!”
“Eh, have?!” Yasusada punctuates his indignation with another stab to the guy he’s been skewering in the past two minutes. It’s the ringleader of the guys who have been particularly vocal in their complaints about how Kiyomitsu’s queerness might spread to others. “I already spent my allowance for the week!”
“Then you have to cook for me!”
“Why is that the next solution?”
“Because I’m hungry and you’re taking forever!”
“Ehhhhh.”
“I’m cute so you should pamper me.” Despite saying that, Kiyomitsu watches Yasusada intently in case the other protests about that. He doesn’t think he can take it if Yasusada doesn’t agree with his cuteness. “Come oooon.”
“Oh, fine,” Yasusada exhales loudly, wiping at his sword with the special wipes he’s taken to carrying around with him. “Give me ten more minutes.”
“Five minutes,” Kiyomitsu bargains, moving from his perch of watching over Yasusada’s punishment time towards where Yasusada is. “I’ll help you, but only because I’m really nice!”
And because Yasusada is simple: “You’re really nice. Thank you, Kiyomitsu.”
“Hmph.”
He sighs and mourns the fact that his fingers have a twenty percent chance of getting dirtied by helping Yasusada with the clean-up. But then again, the fact that Yasusada is willing to protect him like this isn’t so bad.
It’s been like this since the first time they’ve met. Yasusada, the overbearing childhood friend of his who gets particularly irritated when he hears, sees, senses Kiyomitsu not being treated right by anyone.
Kiyomitsu sighs again.
It doesn’t seem like it’s changing anytime soon—though it isn’t so bad. If he were a little more honest, he’d even admit to it being actually nice.
For now though—
“Yasusada, I’m tired. Carry me home?”
“Ehhhhhh.”
But Yasusada, simple as he is, agrees in the end.
Just like always—Yasusada is, really, everything that Kiyomitsu ever wants and needs.