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“It’s not hard!” Kiriko’s bright, painfully optimistic voice insisted. Mizuki found himself disagreeing.
“What’s even the point in this?” He strained, almost entirely winded from his previous attempt at scaling the wall. It had ended in disaster - and laughter - when he’d slid back down as soon as he’d found any foothold. Maybe wall-climbing just wasn’t for him.
Hanzo sighed. “We told you, it is a valuable skill.”
“But with my kasa on, it’s impossible for me to climb any wall.” He turned to the archer, eyebrows raised.
“Because it’ll go on your back, silly!” Kiriko lightly punched the designated area between his shoulder blades. Pink flooded his cheeks as he jumped at her touch, and he had never been more thankful for his mask. She was right, of course, but he still didn’t see the point in doing it. When Genji had first suggested it, he’d brushed it off as a joke. Now it seemed like a humiliation ritual.
“It just seems inconvenient to keep putting it on and off just to climb a wall…” He protested again, though it was now getting rather difficult to keep coming up with reasons. Even if they were very valid in his eyes, they were not to the other three.
Genji shrugged. “You throw your kasa pretty fast. I’m sure you can put it on your back just as quickly.”
“Kiriko, can’t you back me up here?” Mizuki looked at her pleadingly.
“Nope!” She grinned. It seemed like this was Christmas coming early for her. He had a sneaking suspicion it was acting as payback for all the times he had dangled items over her head gleefully.
“Ugh… Well, what do I do with my kusarigama?”
“Simple. You keep holding it.” Hanzo folded his arms, sounding as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Mizuki wanted to believe he was joking but that seemed as likely as his kasa gaining the ability to phase through atoms. The older man gave him a look he wanted to see as half-hearted faith, but realistically knew was contempt.
Still, it had been Hanzo that had been helping him up every time he'd fallen whilst the other two laughed themselves silly. The briefest spark of gratitude lit within him for a moment.
It seemed like there was going to be no way out of this for him. “I just don’t really think I’m made for this…” But Genji was gesturing towards the wall.
Awkwardly, Mizuki lunged at the wall again, digging his metal hand into the cracks between the bricks like his life depended on it - his dignity most definitely did - and heaved himself upwards. The roughness of them scraped at his skin, and he grunted at the effort of ignoring the pain. He thrust his foot into the slightest of dents to gain a hold, and pushed himself up again. Somehow, he was doing it.
He knew he had to move fast, but the wall from where he was looking seemed tauntingly tall. Impossible, even. Desperately, he raised his left arm upwards with an outstretched hand.
And…
He slid back down.
“You know, that was your best attempt yet.” Kiriko leaned down to the same height he was keeled over at. He would have thanked her if he wasn’t panting too hard to even swallow. Hanzo made some noise of agreement.
“You should be proud,” Genji said from somewhere behind him, “you have made a lot of progress.” It would have been nice for Mizuki to be able to believe that, but until he made it to the top of that wall he refused to think that he had made any sort of progress at all. Wall-climbing just didn’t seem to be clicking for him.
He hadn’t stopped panting.
“Maybe we should just call it quits for today?” Kiriko said, crouching lower to get a look at his face.
But he shook his head. “No, I want to get this.” No matter what, nothing felt like true mastery until he had collapsed from the strain. Frustration had been building inside of him ever since his first failure.
Of course, he'd grasped the concept of it easily. He'd put his back into it like Genji instructed, placed his hands wherever Kiriko wanted and listened to Hanzo’s critiques of his form. But it didn't seem to be enough. Nothing clicked.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mizu-” He cut her off as he bolted forward and launched himself at the wall, hands latching onto every crevice he could find. It didn’t matter that his arms trembled, or that his legs felt incapable of supporting him. It just mattered that he was trying, even when it felt like agony. Blinking, he ignored Kiriko’s calls that he was clearly too exhausted to continue. If he could stand, he could try to climb.
His foot slipped, and he attempted to conceal his gasp. But he was still on the wall, hands planted in each nook and cranny he came across. The effort he was expending was immense, but it was needed.
Mizuki got so very near to the top, close enough he could reach and brush his fingers against it, when he felt his grip begin to slip. Panic surged through him. He couldn't fall. He couldn't fail. There was something that he still needed to prove.
He planted his right hand firmly into a crack in the wall, and flung his left arm’s chain above him. In some miracle, it soared upwards and curved over the top, clanking loudly as it fell onto the other side’s ground. It wouldn't support all of his weight, but there would be some grace given, at least.
Kiriko made a shocked sound, and Mizuki could tell she was glaring at Genji when he commented on what a good technique it was. A laugh escaped him as he used the purchase the chain gave him to hook his fingers over the top.
At last, he heaved himself over the threshold, straddling the brick triumphantly. Every muscle burnt, but he found himself not caring. The proud grin on Kiriko’s face was worth it. He tried not to think about how difficult it'd get when he actually had his weapon and kasa.
“Admirable, really.” Hanzo complimented, and for once it seemed like his permanent frown subsided just a little. Even if it was wrong, smugness filled Mizuki with the knowledge he had given even famed grouch Hanzo Shimada something to smile about.
“You have done well, Mizuki.” Genji added, after a nudge from Kiriko.
He wanted to insist that it'd been simple, really, that others may have struggled a lot more. But that would be a complete and utter lie. Instead, he just shrugged.
“Thanks.”
“You think you're okay to get down?” Kiriko called, brows knitted together.
“I'll be fine.” He replied. It couldn't be any harder than getting up here, right? He'd practised these sorts of jumps before anyway. The briefest flicker of wonder as to why Shion had never trained him how to climb was sprung in his mind, before he silenced it.
Kiriko didn't look convinced, but said nothing, only moving closer to the wall as if she could catch him.
Carefully, Mizuki swung his leg back over and made a point of not looking at the ground beneath him. His head was already spinning from the exercise; he didn't need any more reasons to regret this. The chain still dangled on the other side, and he released more and more of it - as far as it'd go. Each clink of it hitting the concrete provided more reassurance. Then, with a whispered prayer, he jumped.
The air felt freeing. For a few moments, it almost felt as if he were soaring in the clouds. But he remembered his training, and soon all delusions of flying vanished as he tucked into a roll, the chain sliding back over the wall into a loud clanking pile behind him.
He'd done it.
Kiriko looked as if it was taking all her self-restraint to not fling her arms around him in celebration. Admiration was somehow present on Hanzo’s face, and Genji gave him several claps. He wanted to revel in the praise for just a few seconds, but he quickly chastised himself for the thought. He still had a long way to go.
“Mm, I think this calls for donuts!” Kiriko grinned, apparently giving into her wants and linking her arm with his. For once he didn't fret at the idea of one.
“I think I shall have to pass.” That was to be expected. Hanzo seldom joined them on any outings that weren't related to bringing down the Hashimoto in some way. Mizuki had nothing against him, aside from the paralysing anxiety the archer seemed to instill within him, but it was somewhat a relief that he barely joined them.
What he didn't expect, though, was Genji. “I have already made plans for this evening.”
“Aw, c’mon Genji.” The Miko pouted slightly. It was easy to tell these were tactics tried and tested many times before. But Genji stood firm.
“No, I am meeting someone… Sorry, Kiriko.”
At that, she perked up. “Someone, ooh, Genji! Who?”
“It is a private matter,” Kiriko’s eyes widened and Genji sighed, “I will tell you later.”
Satisfied, she began to march her and Mizuki off, barely allowing time for him to give his thanks to the brothers for their help. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows between the buildings. Every few steps, his lover's face would be bathed in an orange glow, and he couldn't help but admire her.
“How are your legs? You looked ready to drop dead.” She asked, despite pulling him along at such a speed they might just fall off.
“Just… Achy,” he winced, “Kiriko, can we slow down a bit?” It wasn't far to the apartment, or the donut shop, but he'd really rather not collapse.
There was a disbelieving ‘mmm’ from her. “I think you pushed yourself too hard, Mizu.”
“I just wanted to get it right. Like Hanzo said, it can be a valuable skill.” He justified himself, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. The bakery was in sight now and the view of a flat wall to lean against was suddenly one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.
“There's no harm in getting it wrong, though. But… It was kind of funny watching you fall.”
“Kind of? Kiriko, you were laughing so hard I thought you were going to piss yourself.” Even now, she was chuckling. He reckoned it was going to be something she'd start randomly giggling about for the next few weeks.
A smirk passed across her face as she opened the door to the bakery. “Kind of.”
He sighed and shook his head, following her in and immediately pushing his entire body weight into the wall. Relief flooded his legs and back. Unfortunately, it was short-lived. Kiriko was such a regular to the bakery that they could often have her order done in under a minute. Such was one of those times, and Mizuki reluctantly followed her back outside.
Immediately, she offered him a donut which he took, albeit mostly just to see the happiness on her face. Something about sharing her one true love with the other one seemed to bring her a bliss nothing else could give her.
~~~
It wasn't long until they were back in the apartment, warmth enveloping them as soon as they opened the door.
“You are going to take a bath.” Kiriko said, setting the donuts down on the counter.
“What, why?”
“Because you're clearly in pain, and whilst my ofuda can help with some of it, I think you're much more deserving of a proper self-care night.” She was already steering him toward the bathroom. It would be a lie if he said the thought wasn't tempting, and he decided to not protest. Kiriko nodded with satisfaction.
She began to run the water, stirring in floral-scented bath salts and bubbles as she did so. A sweet, uplifting aroma wafted through the room, soon complimented by the herby candle she lit.
“I'm cooking for dinner, then.” Mizuki said, watching as she organised the bath into one he dreamt of. She opened her mouth, most likely to argue, but appeared to think better of it and closed her lips. Instead, she left him with a chaste kiss to the cheek so he could get undressed.
Already, he was pondering what to cook. He had cooked most nights this week, mainly because Kiriko had been the one doing the shopping, or the laundry, or whatever prep the Yōkai needed. He didn't mind, it was always a blessing to see her enjoyment of his food.
As he slid into the bath, he settled on something simple: pasta. Kiriko came back in several seconds later, beginning to massage his scalp in the doting way she always did.
“Your hair is getting a bit long again…” She murmured, lifting some of the strands.
“I'll cut it tomorrow.”
“Mm, who says I don't like it long?” Her voice warmed, fingers moving back up and down his head. It would be nice not to cut it as often.
“It's not as practical, but I'll give it a shot.” Smiling, he turned to face her, and she laid a kiss onto his forehead.
The gentleness she held for him was something that Mizuki revered. It was sacred. When she did anything for him at all, the world melted away into a blur of dull colours and vague shapes. The only thing he seemed to consistently make out was Kiriko. He knew she didn't like the pedestal, but he couldn't help himself. As long as he acknowledged it, it was okay right?
Her lips curved upwards as her hands moved down the back of his neck, apparently oblivious to his thoughts. “I mean it when I say you did a good job today.”
“Are you sure?” Doubt laced his tone, and he fought to not let his insecurity over it surface. She was right, he told himself.
“Duh, of course I'm sure.” She twisted his head slightly to face her, sincerity written all across her face.”
“It just seems like you three have genes for it or something… It took me ages to get anywhere close to the top.” Three hours. It had taken him three hours.
Kiriko shrugged her shoulders. “So? It's a skill. I mean, us three have been doing it since we were children! Of course it's gonna seem like we're naturals even if we weren't. Genji definitely wasn't…” Her tone was light, a hidden giggle within it.
“Genji wasn't a natural?” He perked up.
“No, he was not,” she grinned, “he fell over his sword in training a lot. If you ask him about it he'll say it was only once, but… It was way more.” She whispered the last addition. There was something painfully endearing about the way her eyes shone now, it tugged at his heart. If possible, he wanted to make her happy like this forever.
Mizuki found himself laughing. It was hard to imagine someone as dexterous as Genji tripping over his own sword, but if he tried hard enough he could.
“What about Hanzo?”
Kiriko seemed to rack her brains. “Eh, he was kind of a natural, I guess. Way too serious, though.”
“So nothing's changed then.” He responded, shifting slightly in the water.
“Not really,” she sighed, “I've been trying to get him to come out of his shell a little but… Meh, what can you do?”
The bathroom turned silent save for the occasional swishing of water whenever Kiriko deemed it time for him to move. Each time he instinctively wriggled at her fingers on his ticklish neck, she'd burst out laughing and he ended up doing it far more exaggerated than the action called for.
Eventually, her eyes turned to his hair again. “Mm, I do like it when it gets a bit longer.”
“I already said I'm keeping it,” he murmured softly, “just gotta make sure it doesn't end up looking like a bowl cut.”
“Even a bowl cut would look good on you.”
“I think you'd suit one.” The image was easy to imagine, and Mizuki tried his best to not let it elicit any chuckles from him. She would suit one, in his imagination at least, but it would look a bit peculiar.
Kiriko, on the other hand, looked mortified. “Oh, I don't think so.”
“Really, why not?” He reached and poked her gravity-defying ponytail. She still refused to tell him how she got it like that. Right now, his best guess was lots and lots of hairspray, but he hadn't found any in the bathroom yet.
Even in the candlelight, he could make out pink flooding her cheeks. “Uhm… Just don't trust Genji if he asks to show you a picture of me.”