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Chapter Text

August

Obanai Iguro was walking up the steps to the doorway of Sanemi’s two story house. He arrived a bit late to the engagement party so he could simply slip into the party, greet Sanemi and his fiance, Kanae, and then leave. These formal events with a crowd of people made him uncomfortable, but he had promised to stop by for Kanae. Sanemi said he could come if he wished, but it was not a requirement. 

However, Obanai felt obligated to come to the party as he was acting as Sanemi’s Best Man since his brother, Genya, was studying abroad. For appearances sake, Obanai would spend five minutes talking to his best friend and his future wife. In and out, no issue, little stress. Then their friends and family would not call him a scumbag or skirting his duties. His grip tightened over the bottle of top shelf tequila he brought as a gift. 

His nerves were on edge and his fingers twitched as he reached the platform and there stood a woman peeking through the front door windows. He reached into his pocket and squeezed the snake toy that he used as a stress ball when he was overwhelmed. 

She was a few centimeters taller than him. Her hair was bright pink with lime green tips, which made him tilt his head. It was thick and she had braided it into two pigtails on either side of her head and hit mid back. There was no way her hair was real. She wore a bright blue mid thigh length dress with flimsy straps. Its satin material clung to her body, displaying every curve. She was bouncing on one foot and then the other in two inch chunky heels. There was no social protocol for this in any of the online guides he read. 

He watched her for a moment longer before he cleared his throat preparing to speak. The woman immediately turned around. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. He could not blame her. He was odd looking with one amber eye and one teal eye. People found his gaze unsettling. Half of his face was covered by a black surgical face mask to cover up old scars. He put on a crisp dark grey button up shirt and slacks for the occasion, which made him feel odd. He normally dressed in black chef pants, t-shirt, and apron for his job and when he was home he wore athletic clothes. He never dressed up and it only added to his anxiety. Obanai could sense her unease just looking at her. Her hands shot up to her face as she began talking. 

“Hi, are you here for the engagement party for Kanae and Sanemi? I don’t see anyone I know inside. I thought some of my old sorority sisters would be here. I don’t see any of them, just older people. I think this is the right house. Kanae said there would be white, purple, and green balloons tied to the mailbox, but there were only white and purple ones,” she laughed nervously. “Sorry, I know that sounds really stupid. They probably just forgot the green balloons or it looked bad.” She fiddled with her hands in front of her pronounced chest and looked down suddenly interested in the wood beneath her feet. 

As she spoke, he was entranced by her sweet voice, the way it ebbed and flowed with ease. She spoke so clearly despite her rambling. Not only that but her heart shaped face was beautiful. Her green eyes matched her hair and shined in the afternoon sun. There was one mole beneath each eye and her smile seemed to radiate warmth and kindness. Her smile was genuine as he noticed her eyes crinkle at the edges. It made him want to smile back at her. This woman put the gods and any of their creations to shame. 

When he did not respond to her she started talking again. “This must be the wrong place. I’m sorry for bothering you.” She bowed her head to him and headed for the steps behind him. There was a light blush on both of her cheeks. She was adorable in her frazzled state. It reminded him of himself if he could talk as elegantly as she could and say more than 10 words at a time. 

“No, this is the right place. This is Sanemi’s house,” Obanai finally responded. He held up his hand to make her stop. Her mouth made an ‘O’ shape and then her lips pulled back, smiling at him. 

“Thank goodness! I was worried I had gotten the wrong house.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Should we go in and make a fashionable late arrival?” She teased, her green eyes flashing with amusement. She held out her hand to him. He stared at the hand she offered and then stepped to the side of her. 

“Let’s go in,” he said stiffly. She put her hand down and turned towards the front door as Obanai twisted the doorknob and walked into the entryway. The woman could follow him in or not. There was a crowd of people, including most of Sanemi’s older relatives and family friends. It would have been hard to tell if this party was for an engagement or retirement party. 

He just had to get in, talk to the engaged couple, and leave. His eyes traveled over the groups of people before he decided Sanemi and Kanae were not in the main living space and he slid past crowds like a snake slithering between trees and bushes on the forest floor. 

No one tried to talk to him and he let out a sigh of relief as he spotted Sanemi in the kitchen. He was grabbing a bag of ice out of the freezer and placing it on the island countertop. His pale eyes went directly to Obanai as he entered the kitchen. He set the tequila down on the countertop next to him. 

“You made it!” Sanemi grinned. “Hey, could you grab a bowl?” He gestured towards the cabinet to Obanai’s left side. 

The chef in Obanai automatically turned and opened the door upon receiving instructions. He pulled out the large clear plastic bowl and set it on the table next to the ice. Sanemi’s eyes narrowed at the bag of ice and frowned, “What’s the best way to break this up?” 

“Do you have a mallet?” Obanai asked, which caused Sanemi to grin. 

“That’s the best way to do it?” His best friend asked. The shorter man nodded and Sanemi began looking through his drawers for a mallet. He pulled a metal mallet from deep inside a drawer. 

Sanemi looked at the mallet and then the ice with delight. He thrived on chaos even if it was a mundane task such as this. Obanai questioned why they got along as well as they did at times like this. Sanemi smashed the mallet over the ice repeatedly with a devilish grin plastered on his face.  

“Have I ever told you, you are my best friend?” Sanemi teased as he tore open the plastic bag and filled the bowl with ice. 

“A time or two,” Obanai responded. “I bought you some tequila.” He pointed at the bottle on the counter across from the island. 

“Thanks. You grab the ice bowl and we’ll go check on Kanae. She wants you to meet her Maid of Honor.” Sanemi grabbed the bottle of tequila and a few shot glasses from the liquor cabinet. Obanai took the ice and followed after Sanemi. As they walked, Obanai glanced over the room looking for the pink haired lady, but did not see her. She must have found her sorority sisters. Sanemi led him through the packed living space and down the steps to the furnished basement and walkout patio. 

Sanemi and Kanae had been living together for two years now and Kanae took ownership of the backyard. She planted copious amounts of flowers that lured in bees and butterflies alike. Kanae worked as a botanist at the local university and took pride in keeping a well maintained garden. 

Obanai and Sanemi walked out onto the tiled patio overlooking the rows of flowers and hedges. It was less crowded out here. Younger people seemed to be out here enjoying the afternoon heat. Obanai was always cold and appreciated the warmth. He set the bowl of ice down on the serving table next to the drinks. 

“Obanai.” He heard Kanae’s high voice call as she practically skipped towards him. She was wearing a white blouse with a cream colored lace skirt, marking herself as a future bride. Behind her she was dragging a woman behind her. It was hard to make out the other woman as she was in his right visual field. His vision was blurred on the right side and he had to turn his head completely to see that Kanae was dragging the woman he met at the front door behind her. 

“I want you to meet my Maid of Honor.” Kanae beamed as she placed the pink haired woman beside her. “This is Kanroji Mitsuri and this is Iguro Obanai.” She gestured between the two of them. Obanai opened his mouth to speak, but Mitsuri beat him to it. 

“We met already, actually, at the front door.” Her cheeks reddened as she spoke. Her blushing seemed to be a common reaction. It endeared her to him. 

“Oh good, then we don’t have to worry about introductions. Obanai is going to be acting as the best man while Genya is abroad, so you will be seeing quite a lot of each other,” Kanae explained. Sanemi stood next to his bride and snaked his hand around her back to hold her hip. 

“I made plans to see a few venues this weekend and Mitsuri has already agreed to come with us. Would you be able to go with us or do you already have plans? It is a bit last minute. My top venue had a cancellation for next August and if we don’t check it out this weekend it will be gone.” Kanae looked at him expectantly. 

Obanai could feel himself sweating beneath his shirt. He hated expectations and short notices. He had his routines and he stuck to them almost religiously. They kept him calm. He looked between Kanae and Sanemi. He had no problem saying no to them. They knew he had major anxiety and avoidant behaviors. Sanemi should have chosen someone else to act as best man for Genya. Before he could deny their request he cast a glance at Mitsuri. Her green eyes looked hopeful and upon meeting his mismatched gaze she smiled. His heart seemed to beat faster around her and he wanted to see her again. Her vibrancy and warmth melted his icy exterior. 

“I’ll go.” He heard himself saying looking back at Kanae. He hoped he did not regret this decision. Obanai risked a glance at Mitsuri. Looking at her smile at him gave him a bit of peace. He would not regret it, not if she was there. 

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Obanai counted down, breathing in deeply on the even numbers and exhaling through his nose on the odd ones. His therapist suggested counted breaths as a way to manage his anxiety. He was sitting in his car waiting for the couple and the girl he could not stop thinking about. 

He wondered if he was making her out to be better than she actually was. After he agreed to come to the winery, Mitsuri talked to him. She told him she was excited to get to know him and help plan her best friend’s wedding. When she spoke in her cheery tone he could not look away. He had barely talked to her, but she was more than happy to stand on the patio with him. She tried asking him questions, but he gave terse short answers. After twenty minutes he made his excuses and left. 

He felt like an idiot around her. His nature was quiet, but he never had difficulty speaking his mind. With her he wanted to say so much but his brain misfired. She had genuine kindness that was so uncommon. He craved it, the warmth of her smile, her lime green eyes, and her gentle voice. 

A sharp knock on his car window broke his thoughts. He forced himself not to jump and grinded his teeth in irritation. He expected Sanemi who was known for fucking with his friends, but when he turned to look at the offender it was Mitsuri. She waved at him. Just seeing her again made him calm down slightly. He closed his eyes and then opened the car door. 

“Good morning,” Mitsuri greeted him. Her cheery spirit eased his nerves. Today she was wearing a lacy white skirt with a light pink tank top. She was also holding a bagel with a napkin. “At least I know I am at the right place since you're here.” 

Warmth spread over his heart hearing her joke. She had no ill intent in her body or soul. Obanai nodded and looked at the parking lot. They were five minutes early to this appointment. The engaged couple was nowhere to be found, but he was not surprised considering Sanemi was useless in the morning. Kanae should have known better than to schedule an appointment this early. 

“Did you hear anything from Kanae?” He asked. 

“She said they were on their way ten minutes ago. Do you want to head inside? It’s humid out here.” She took a bite of her bagel. Obanai nodded his consent and headed towards the two story hall with a patio. Mitsuri walked beside him, content with eating her bagel on the run. He could see why Kanae would want her wedding here. There was a lake in front of a rustic reception hall surrounded by greenery, grape vines, and flowers. It fit her aesthetic perfectly. He opened the door for the girl beside him. 

“Thanks,” she muttered. The two stood in the entryway where a woman in a yellow and violet summer dress looked up from her desk. 

“You must be Sanemi and Kanae,” the woman said standing up from her chair. “I am Tamayo, the event coordinator.” 

“No, we’re actually the Maid of Honor and Best Man. Sanemi and Kanae are running a tad behind,” Mitsuri corrected her and took the last bite of her bagel. “I’m Mitsuri and this is Obanai.” She stepped beside the shorter man. 

“Oh, I apologize, my mistake,” Tamayo said quickly, her voice light and airy. Her blue-violet eyes went past them to the door.

The door opened again and Sanemi and Kanae filed in. Kanae looked annoyed by Sanemi in his slightly disheveled state. Sanemi’s white hair was a mess and showed obvious signs of bedhead. His shirt was wrinkled and he was wearing his casual cargo shorts. Kanae looked like an angel compared to him with her hair pulled back into a tight bun and wearing a loose purple cotton dress, decorated with butterflies. Her light eyes were aflame as she glared at Sanemi. 

“Tamayo, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kanae and this man is Sanemi. I see you already met our friends.” Kanae held out her hand, which Tamayo took in her small one. 

“Yes, I was just speaking with Mitsuri,” Tamayo said.

“We would have been here on time if he hadn’t snoozed his alarm five times and ignored my warning.” Kanae pointed her thumb at the white haired man.

“You shouldn’t have made this appointment so early,” he yawned. He stretched his arms above his head. 

“You agreed to this time, so don’t even start,” Kanae countered, her gaze narrowing. Tamayo put on her best customer service smile.

“Would you like to start the tour? If you have any questions feel free to ask them during the tour,” she said, ignoring the fight between the engaged couple. 

Kanae nodded and pulled on Sanemi’s arm. Sanemi looked behind him at Obanai and gave him an eye roll and a quiet plea for assistance. Obanai shrugged his shoulders. “You were the late one.” 

Mitsuri laughed at his response and the sight of Sanemi being dragged around by his petite fiancé. Her green eyes flickered over to the man beside her. “Shall we follow?” Mitsuri asked. He met her earnest gaze. 

“Someone has to keep Kanae from killing Sanemi before the wedding," he said. She snorted and he was a bit stunned to hear such an unladylike sound come from her. He could feel himself smiling at her quirk though. She was not the perfect person, she had to have some flaws. If her snort was the worst he would count himself lucky just to be next to her. 

During the tour, Kanae and Tamayo talked the majority of the time. Besides the reception hall where the wedding would be held there were two cabins on the property that could host a wedding party the night before. They could hold ten guests each if some people slept on the couches. There were also two small suites where they could dress and prepare for the big day. 

Mitsuri walked beside Obanai just a few feet behind the event coordinator and couple. He sneaked glances at her from the corners of his eyes. She seemed to be taking in all the scenery and nodded at the appropriate times when Tamayo mentioned something that pertained to her. 

“How do you know Sanemi?” Mitsuri asked, trying to make conversation. 

“We met each other sophomore year of high school. He made fun of the way I dressed and egged me on. I punched and broke his nose. We ended up in detention with another guy. We both hated him equally and bonded over our hatred,” Obanai summarized. Sanemi had actually been taunting him about the bandages covering his face.  

Mitsuri wrinkled her nose. He could not tell if she was disgusted or amused. “That’s certainly one way to make a friend. I shared a literature class with Kanae. We suffered through Shakespeare together. Then we joined the same sorority and the rest is history,” she explained. 

“I never cared for Shakespeare,” he supplied. 

“Thank you! He’s… fine, but nothing special. I prefer Charlotte Bronte. She wrote-” Mitsuri paused, noticing Kanae waving her over. She gave him an apologetic look and sped past him. 

“Jane Eyre,” he finished for her even though she was out of ear shot as she approached her friend. He watched her animated face converse with the bride at the front. Obanai scratched the back of his head unsure of what to do now. Sanemi had been released from Kanae in favor of the Maid of Honor. He made his way over to Obanai.

“We are going to pay an arm and a leg for this,” he grumbled. “They’re building a butterfly house. Kanae will pay triple the cost for that. What a pain.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You have the money,” Obanai said. Sanemi worked as a structural engineer at a large company and his higher ups determined he would be moved to a leadership position within the next five years. He already made several million yen yearly. 

“You want Kanae to be happy, right?” Obanai asked, meeting his friend’s intense gaze. Sanemi sighed and nodded his head. “Then you will pay for whatever you need,” Obanai commented. 

The taller man ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “You’re right. Look at you already doing the best man’s duty.” He glanced over at the three women, settling on his fiance. “I’m pretty lucky to be with her.” 

“She’s the only one who will put up with your shit,” Obanai said with dry humor. Sanemi punched his arm before changing the topic. 

“It looks like you and Mitsuri hit it off. She can be ditzy, but she makes up for it with kindness,” his friend said. Obanai narrowed his eyes. He felt flames of anger simmer under the surface of his skin when Sanemi insulted her. 

“Don’t say that.” He heard himself saying, bristling. “She’s not a ditz.” 

Sanemi raised his eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Obanai defending the woman. It was not common for Obanai to take a liking to any person, let alone someone of the fairer sex. To his knowledge, Obanai had never shown interest in a woman. Sanemi would have bet all his money on his friend being aromantic and asexual considering his lack of romantic relationships in the 13 years he has known him. Or at least, none that he was aware of. 

“Have you talked to her much?” Sanemi asked. 

“Enough to know she’s smart and capable of more than she leads on,” Obanai said. “Just because she’s talkative doesn’t mean she’s a ditz.” 

Sanemi nodded and walked in silence next to his friend. Obanai watched the three women from afar. He was aware of every movement Mitsuri made, attuning himself to her gestures and postures. When she was nervous she bounced on her feet. When she was happy, her cheeks flushed a faint pink and her eyes crinkled. He wanted to be the one to make her happy.

At the end of the visit, Kanae made the decision to book the winery. She and Sanemi disappeared with Tamayo to sign some paperwork and iron out the details. This left Mitsuri and Obanai alone again. They sat on chairs opposite of each other in the lobby area. She was sipping on a glass of ice water. 

Obanai tapped his fingers against his knee trying to work up the courage to talk to her. To ask her questions. He simply wanted to know her. To bask in her brilliance for another minute while she was still within reach.

Mitsuri was typing on her iphone with her lips pursed in concentration. It would be rude to interrupt her thoughts by speaking. He licked his lips and stared at the wood floor. Without others present, she did not have to pretend to like him. The intrusive thoughts slithered into his mind. 

“Can I have your number?” He heard her ask. His mismatched eyes looked up. Mitsuri was holding out her phone to him. On the screen, it read Iguro Obanai for the contact name, but the number was empty. “If not, no worries. I know some people don’t like handing out their personal numbers. I just thought it would be a good idea since we’re both involved in this wedding planning stuff.” 

He grabbed her phone, their fingers brushing against each other. He tried to ignore the shot of electricity that ran up his arm. Her hands were soft. He typed in his number and handed her phone back to her. 

“It’s a good idea,” he confirmed. She threw him a closed smile, their eyes locked on each other. Her hair was down and wavy, most likely a result of the braids she liked to wear. She had lime bangs that just barely touched her eyebrows. 

“Sweet, I think this will help us manage the lovebirds better,” Mitsuri joked, crossing her long legs. “We might have to act as witnesses in the court case and we’ll have to get our stories straight if Kanae kills him.” 

Her dark humor made him grin. He could get used to talking with her and he would enjoy it. Mitsuri was a salve to calm his nerves with her cheerful nature and lighthearted conversation. Sanemi and Kanae made their way back to the lobby.

“We have another appointment to make, so you guys are free to go. Thank you so much for coming!” Kanae said. She waved with one hand and with the other she dragged Sanemi behind her. 

“Thanks,” Sanemi added in a lower voice. 

“It was no problem. What am I for if not to help?” The pink haired woman hugged her friend. They exited the building, each walking to their respective cars. 

Obanai opened his car door and sat down in the driver’s seat. He was glad he came just to have a few minutes with Mitsuri. 

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. The text icon popped up and he pressed the message. It was from five minutes ago. 

Unknown Number: Hey this is Kanroji Mitsuri. Feel free to text or call me any time 😊

Obanai stared at his screen before looking around the parking lot hoping to catch a glimpse of her. She was pulling out of her spot in a green Volkswagen Beetle. As she drove past him she waved. His heart beat rapidly wondering the next time he would see her. 

When he got home to his pale yellow bungalow, he turned on the living room lights and headed to the second bedroom. He took off his face mask, tired of the heat that resulted in wearing it for hours on end. There were no mirrors in his house except for the one in the guest bathroom, so he wouldn’t risk seeing himself. The blinds were down, eliminating anyone from looking in. 

There was a large enclosure for his white corn snake, Kaburamaru. The snake was resting under the heat lamp when he heard Obanai walk in. His tongue darted out in greeting. The man crouched down and reached down to pet the snake. He lifted his scaly head to meet his friend’s hand, pushing against the coolness.

“Hey,” he murmured to the snake. It had been his friend for over ten years. After leaving his mother’s home, he found Kaburamaru in a dumpster. The creature had been sealed in a garbage bag and thrown carelessly in the pile of trash. He saw a plastic bag moving and heard a hiss. Obanai tore the bag open and the snake bit him. With Kaburamaru’s fangs sinking into his forearm, he saw himself in those red eyes. He was scared from the abuse he endured and was left to die in a dumpster alone and afraid. Obanai took the snake back to the Rengoku household and kept him ever since. 

Kaburamaru slithered closer to him, lifting his head higher. It was his way of showing he wanted to be held. He brought his arm down and Kaburamaru coiled around his arm and up to his neck. The white snake would settle around his throat like a scarf the entire day if Obanai let him. He patted the snake’s head and stood up. 

Ding!

He pulled his phone out and looked down at the screen. Kaburamaru’s red eyes flickered to the light, his tail twitching in anticipation. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: We should get to know each other. What sort of work are you in? 

Obanai felt himself smile internally. It had been a while since anyone had taken interest in him. The last friend he made was Gyomei, a customer from work. 

Iguro Obanai: I’m a Sous chef at Nichirin. You?

Kanroji Mitsuri: oh, that’s the place with Asian fusion foods I’ve been meaning to go. now I have to go :)  I’m a 1st grade teacher

That sounded like the perfect job for her. She spent every day inspiring and educating children. He would have benefitted from having a teacher like her as a kid. His mother homeschooled him and isolated him from the rest of the world. He cringed thinking of the woman. 

Iguro Obanai: I can see that. You must enjoy your work.

Kanroji Mitsuri: most of the time. The kids are great but the parents are a bit much 🙃 if your kid doesn’t do their homework I can’t give them 100% on it Smh 

Iguro Obanai: self entitled parents? I’ve had customers send back plates of food because they didn’t realize the Yaki Udon had udon noodles. Idiots.

Kanroji Mitsuri : Geez, that’s like asking for a grilled cheese and getting upset for the cheese. What’s your favorite color? I like pink.

Iguro Obanai: I never would have guessed. White or black. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: Those don't count cause they are shades. Pick a different one.

Iguro Obanai: ... Purple

The question was mundane and elementary but it was simple and easy to answer. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: hmmm, I would have pegged you for a green guy.

Iguro Obanai: I’m full of surprises 

The conversation flowed easily with her asking different questions throughout the day. He learned she had five siblings, four family cats, and a cat at her own place. She enjoyed painting, drawing, sculpting, and baking. When she had free time she volunteered at the animal shelter. Her favorite foods were omurice and pork cutlets.

He shared less. He mentioned his adoptive family, but left out mentioning Kaburamaru. Many women hated or feared them. Obanai did not think he could handle Mitsuri’s rejection of the white snake. Not today at least. He wanted to live in a fantasy for another day before Mitsuri realized he was a weird, awkward, dark, ill humored man with nothing to offer. 

Chapter Text

Mid August

Yellow curtains were pulled back allowing the morning sun to come through her bedroom window. It was 5am. Wavy, pink hair flowed over the pillow, the woman’s covers were in disarray, covering one of her legs as she slept diagonally on the queen bed. Her white cat with green-blue eyes laid on her side, his face pressed into her side. 

“Captain Sushi.” Mitsuri rubbed underneath the kitten’s chin. He meowed at her in response. She felt his body begin to vibrate as he purred. Opening her eyes, she saw him knead her ribs.  

When she moved out of her family’s home the first thing she did was adopt a kitten. She unpacked one box before she realized how lonely her house would be without someone else. The sound of shuffling through her kitchen utensils would have been drowned out by her siblings running down the hall. She never lived alone until now. She had five brothers and sisters and her parents, then she had a roommate throughout college before moving back home. Besides that, Mitsuri had to start her hoard of cats before she turned 26 to become a crazy old cat lady by 30. 

Everyone in her family was loud and constantly buzzing around each other. There were no silent moments. She had shared a bedroom with her sister up until she moved into the rental property. She could hear a pin drop if she chose to in her new place. At first she was thrilled. No one could bother her, pester her, or run into her room shooting nerf darts at her. Mitsuri loved her family, but she needed a place of her own to grow. Except it was quiet, lonely, and dim without everyone bustling around in her parents’ home. 

When she got settled she would invite her family to join her on weekends. Granted they lived four hours away in Taitō. They had to coordinate with their work, school, sports events, and other responsibilities. It made it an endeavor to visit her now. She decided to leave her hometown, family, and job after she broke up with her ex. 

Kyo, her ex fiancé, worked at the same school as a school administrator. She broke things off with him right before she moved in with him luckily. Kyo told her she was too childish, too careless, and too selfish to have children. He would hate for her to be their mother. She had told him her dream was to be a mother despite how old fashioned it was. Mitsuri loved children. It was why she became a teacher. To shape and enrich their lives. If anything she would be an exceptional mother with her prior experience between her siblings and students. 

Looking back, there had been red flags when they first started dating. He flooded her with his affection and attention, commanding her time and asking her to blow off her friends in favor of spending time with him. She let him in her naivety. He had been her first love. They had only been dating for eight months when he proposed. He cared for her and would never harm her, she lied to herself. 

After he proposed his emotional abuse became more apparent. At his request she dyed her hair and eyebrows black. He liked a traditional woman and critiqued her appearance. He pinched parts of her body, pointing out a roll of fat on her stomach and thighs. He wanted a petite woman. She loved him so much she wanted to mold herself into the perfect woman for him. When she went to the gym, she gained muscle instead of losing weight and then looked “too masculine” for Kyo. She forgoed meals to lose weight, starving herself to appease him. To make her his perfect wife. 

His love for her was an obsession. He wanted a possession, not a partner. Kyo meant to break her down and shape her into his ideal woman. She let him. It took him berating her ability to be a good mother to realize he did not love her as she did him. Mitsuri trembled as she told him she was done with their relationship. She threw his engagement ring at him, leaving behind everything she had at his house. 

The day after she broke up with her fiancé, she looked up job postings in faraway towns and landed a job in the same town as her good friend, Kanae. That had been in February, right before Valentine’s Day. 

Now it was August and she felt so much better. Kanae asked her to be her Maid of Honor in June right before she moved. Her sister, Shinobu was in her first year of residency at top tier hospital in Boston and would not have the time to help Kanae plan the wedding.

The day she moved to this town she adopted a kitten. He was almost pure white except for two black ears and a red stripe running down his spine. He looked like a piece of nigiri hence the name Captain Sushi. It made her giggle. At the vet’s office the receptionist did a double take when she read the name off the paperwork.

“Good morning,” she said, turning to her side and pulling the kitten to her chest. She grabbed for her phone she thought she had placed on the nightstand. It wasn’t. She brushed her hand over the cotton sheets and blankets before finding it underneath her pillow. Her heart skipped seeing a notification from Obanai. 

Iguro Obanai: Sweet dreams 

Her new friend was a man of few words. She recognized him as a kindred spirit. A generous person with so much to offer. He did not act like she was a nuisance or that she was annoying him. His responses were terse,  but he always answered her questions no matter how trivial they were. 

She felt her body tense when she asked him his favorite color. It was stupid and childish, but she was not sure how to start a conversation after spending the last two years teaching 7 year olds simple social skills, math, reading, and art. After she sent that question, she facepalmed her forehead. She was out of practice talking to people her age. Mitsuri had been messaging him off and on for the past week. 

Mitsuri Kanroji: Good morning, I told myself I was going to run this morning, but Sushi is cuddling me 🥲

Truly, she had every intention to run five kilometers before getting ready for school, but Sushi’s warm body and his purring made her lazy. How could she possibly move him when he was so happy? Mitsuri ran her hand down Sushi’s back as she turned on Little Lion Man from Mumford and Sons. She found her eyelids drooping between Sushi’s soft, downy fur, the smell of fresh linen, and the sound of indie music relaxing her into a meditative state. She laid in bed for 30 minutes longer before she had to get ready for her first day of school. 

The cat swept his tail under her nose and batted at his owner’s face. Mitsuri opened up her eyes and scratched behind Sushi’s ears. “You’re so needy,” she murmured and rubbed her eyes to get rid of the sleep sand on the inside corner of her eyes. The 25-year-old pushed herself up and rolled off the edge of the bed.

When she finally stepped out of her house she noticed the sunrise. It loomed overhead in a splash of purple, orange, pink, and red. The sun was just peaking over the horizon as she squinted her eyes. Yesterday, she had sent a picture of it to Obanai on her run. 

She wanted to share her version of the world with him. She had made a fool of herself when they first met, rambling on about balloons. Mitsuri shook her head at the memory. You’re not a fool. She told herself, banishing the negative thoughts. 

He was still talking to her. Obanai did not seem to be the type of person to talk to someone he did not want to. He was honest and straightforward. It was refreshing. She wanted to get to know him better. 

It also helped that he was cute. He was five centimeters shorter than her. His amber and teal eyes pierced her soul. They were gentle when he stared at her, the lines around his face softening when their eyes met. With others she noticed his body was rigid and his eyes flickered to the closest exits, seeking ways to escape. His choppy black hair looked so silky as if he took pride in it. There was also the mask he wore, which she had not asked about yet. She assumed he was a germaphobe, especially after he did not shake her hand upon first meeting or share her bagel. 

In the past week, she learned little about him. He was adopted when he was twelve, but he did not elaborate further. Obanai worked at a restaurant that she had wanted to go to, but did not want to invade his space. 

Through Kanae, she learned he had a snake he rescued when he was a teenager, but he had not mentioned the snake to her. Kanae also told her he had barely talked to her or her sister despite knowing them for three years. He could be off putting due to his sharp, smartass tongue when he insulted Sanemi or their other friends. Mitsuri had seen some of it through their messages. Kanae was surprised he had spoken more than ten words to Mitsuri after the winery trip. This mysterious masked man piqued her interest. 

When Mitsuri made it to the school, she picked up two large boxes containing her lesson plans, art supplies, and one plant. They weighed next to nothing in her arms. This week was set for boring meetings, ice breaking activities with her coworkers, and setting up her classroom. She found her classroom and started organizing it the way she wanted. Mitsuri put four sets of five desks in circular patterns all around the room. With her class list, she put a name on each desk. She had 20 first graders in her class, which was nothing compared to the 30 she had in the previous years. 

She organized her desk with the typical office supplies, stapler, tape, paper clips, pens, highlighters, and pencils. A picture of Captain Sushi and her sat beside her computer. She was holding him up to a fish tank at the pet store and his eyes went wide seeing a fish as big as him. When she had it organized the way she wanted, she sent a picture of herself in her olive green overalls and a cup of iced coffee to her family and friends including her newest one. 

The rest of the day was rather boring between meetings and orientation. The only other orientee was a giant man with dark short hair and sightless eyes. He was a second grade teacher and went by Mr. Himejima. He was soft spoken and took on the gentle giant persona to a ‘T’. Periodically, Mitsuri would glance at her cell phone hoping to see a notification from Obanai. However, each time she did, she was sorely disappointed. He was a night owl and usually sent her a text by 10 A.M. By 2 P.M. she decided it was best to ignore her phone and focus on decorating her wall. She turned on music with a mixture of pop punk and alternative rock. 

In preparation for her first year, Mitsuri taped long sheets of paper up and down the wall above the cubbies. She painted a huge tree with large green leaves as she sang a pop punk cover of Taylor Swift’s Exile. Her arms making long strokes across the length of the wall. Droplets of paint splattered against her face. She lost herself to her art for an hour before she was satisfied with her project. A tall tree loomed over the class with bright leaves and warm brown trunk. Sprinkled around the tree were flowers, rocks, and a steam in front of it. 

The first day of school she would have the kids decorate it with different types of fruit of their choosing. It would incorporate art, fine motor skills, cutting with scissors, and creativity she felt was lacking at her previous school. She had to limit her crafts to once a week, but here she was allowed more freedom.  

Mitsuri took a step back to look at her work and smiled. Her students were going to love it. She set about cleaning up her paint brushes and washing her face and hands. When she was done, she looked at her phone. She felt a small thrill when she saw Obanai’s name on her screen from a few minutes ago. 

Iguro Obanai: Do you want to come to Nichirin tonight? You mentioned wanting to go and I’m working tonight

Mitsuri bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. Her heart rate quickened. He was not asking her out exactly, but he was asking to see her. A warmth filled her core as she reread his message. She imagined him rubbing the back of his neck shyly and a blush crept over her cheeks. It was not a date, she told herself. He was working and wouldn’t have time to entertain her. She bit her lip as her thumbs tapped her keyboard. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: Are you offering to cook for me? :) 

That was way too flirty. She pinched between her eyebrows and nearly wrote sorry before she saw his response. 

Iguro Obanai:  If you pay, yes. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: haha Yes, I’d love to! I have to go home and shower first

Iguro Obanai: I’ll see you later 

Kanroji Mitsuri: I can’t wait!

With the final message, the pink haired woman threw everything she had in her purse and ran out the door. She nearly crashed into Mr. Himejima on her way out. He dodged her with ease.  She waved an apology and screamed, “I’m sorry” after she remembered he was blind, but kept running. 

Come here, Baby. Obanai remembered his mother commanding him. It put him on edge. As a child perhaps five or six years old, he sat between her legs and she braided his long hair. She adored him as much as she loathed him. 

You’re so beautiful. His mother smiled at him. She kissed the top of his head. Shivers ran down his spine, his veins turning to ice. He turned his head to look at her. She stilled as their eyes met. His amber and teal eyes met dark brown, which darkened becoming angry. His father had the same eyes as Obanai did. Slanted eyes with heterochromia. A physical reminder of the man who left her. 

You’re as handsome as your father. Her voice shifted almost to a growl. She grew cold and stiff. His body told him to run, but he stayed in place frozen against the wooden floor. She slapped him, her palm flat. She grasped his shoulders and squeezed his shoulder, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin. 

Stop, Mama. He heard himself whimper. She did not. She pushed him to the ground and hit him again until he stopped making noises. Tears rolled down his face. When she was done she apologized to her sweet Baby and kissed all over his face. He did not realize then that her actions were abnormal. She had always treated him this way. An act of kindness followed by a jolt of abuse. 

The last time he had seen her she had cursed his name, blamed him for her wretched life, and told him she should have aborted him. She looked like a demon spitting venom, her brown eyes blazing with fury. Her black hair was a mess on the top of her head. The smell of whiskey on her breath. She had only been wearing a robe as she used a rusty knife to carve lines from ear to ear on her baby. Her hand underneath his jaw forced him to look up at her. She wanted him to smile for her like he used to. Smile for me, Baby. 

He was twelve years old then. He winced when he heard her pacing outside of his room. The one she locked him in every night. He stopped smiling after she threw him down a flight of stairs, breaking three ribs and his right forearm. The hospital did not question the countless bruises on his torso or shoulders. They put a cast on his arm and a prescription for pain pills, which his mother took. She didn’t want him to become addicted. 

His older cousins held him down as his mother ruined his mouth. One held his arms, another his legs. The sharp point of the blade pressed against his unblemished skin. He still remembered the searing pain as the blade’s jagged edge etched across his cheeks. He had tried to struggle against them, but that forced his mother to cut unevenly. Pain stretching over his face. 

That night he ran, knocking over a candle in the process. He had been careless and bumped into a table on his way past the front door. The candle toppled over and lit the curtains on fire.

He had run barefoot away. Due to his wounds he couldn’t call out for help. In the middle of the night, he ran until his feet bled on the gravel road. There were no other houses around. The house was in the country in the middle of nowhere outside of Osaka. By the time he found someone the fire had burnt the house down along with his mother and three cousins. Their blood was on his hands. Four people were killed because he left. His surviving cousin had told him as much, her voice hoarse from inhaling smoke. She was the only survivor. He never saw her again and he was adopted by the Rengoku family. The rest of it was history. 

On Monday morning, he was startled awake by that memory. He felt himself shivering, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He dreaded sleeping most nights. When he slept, old memories surfaced, some of them worse than others. If he was tired enough though, he would have no dreams. He forced himself to stay awake as long as possible. There were bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep. Most nights he stayed awake until 5am and then let exhaustion take over when his eyelids failed to stay open. Insomnia was something he dealt with for what seemed like forever. 

For the last week and a half, Obanai woke up to messages from Mitsuri. She woke up around 5 A.M. to exercise and prepare for school. She said it took her at least two hours to fully wake up. Yesterday she sent a picture of the morning sky. It was a swirl of dark red, purple, orange, and pink surrounding the sun peaking over the horizon. It was nearly as beautiful as the woman taking the photo. 

Obanai could not figure out exactly what it was about her. Only that he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her warmth was indescribable even from the two times he has met her in person. He wanted to be in her presence again to feel the air of kindness. It seemed infinite. 

Due to his upbringing, he had been fearful of women and bordered on hating them. With therapy, he realized it wasn’t hatred, but an adverse reaction to his abuse. It had taken a lot of time and exposure to get him to this point. The only women he spoke to on a regular basis were from work or his friends’ partners. Though he only spoke with them when he visited Sanemi. 

He had never had a relationship with a woman. Or a relationship period. There had been hookups in the dark. Meant to be quick and meaningless. They had been a curiosity more than actual interest. No one captured his interest, not until a pink haired girl asked him if she was at the right house. He could not deny his attraction to her as much as he would like to. 

Mitsuri was consistent with her messages and kept asking questions or telling him about what she was doing or planned to do that week. After her summer off, she had to prepare two weeks ahead of time before the children started school. His responses were lackluster in comparison. He spent most afternoons and evenings working at the restaurant, going to the gym, taking care of Kaburamaru, and attending therapy once every two weeks for the last three years. She did not need to know about the last bit. 

There was a stigma attached to the word ‘therapy’. Most people assumed those who went to therapy were crazy, unmedicated wrecks willing to ruin other people. It had taken him a long time to finally decide to go. Obanai had fiddled with the idea, called a clinic, made an appointment and then failed to attend said appointment.  Eventually, Dr. Ubuyashiki, the therapist he had snubbed seven times, found his address and knocked on the door at the scheduled appointment time. It broke protocol and boundaries, but ultimately it was the only way Obanai was ever going to get therapy, Ever since that time he had gone to the clinic for his sessions. 

Obanai rolled over in his bed and stared at his cell phone screen. 7:53 A.M. on a Monday morning. He groaned realizing he had only slept for three hours. However, there was a message from Mitsuri at 5:02 A.M. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: Good morning! I told myself I was going to run this morning, but Sushi is cuddling me 🥲

Then at 7:35 A.M. She sent a photo of herself in green overalls with a white t-shirt at her desk, littered with stacks of paper, pens, and pencils, and a tall cup of iced coffee with the caption And back to school I go. 

He felt his scars pull on his cheeks as he smiled. A gentle reminder that he could never hide from his past. He grimaced. He should not even be talking to a girl like Mitsuri. Not an idiot, worthless, piece of trash like him. He would stain her. He did not deserve to talk to her. Obanai placed the phone back on the nightstand and rubbed his eyes. These circular thoughts were running rampant. Filthy, disgusting, vile creature he never should have been born.  

He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, forcing himself to only focus on the pain. This method was not a good or safe coping technique but it was effective immediately compared to rationalizing his thoughts and removing himself from the situation. He deserved to be hurt. Obanai tightened his fist using his sharpest fingernail on his palm. It broke the skin and he felt a drop of blood form. This numbed him to anything else. 

Shit. He would have to call Dr. Ubuyashiki. He unclenched his hand and stared down at the scratch him made. A single drop rested on his pale white skin, littered with semi circular marks from previous injuries. It was like returning to a place of comfort whenever he felt his nails cut into his palm. Tension and relief overwhelming any other emotion, blocking out the anxious thoughts. This was why he cut his nails nearly to the quick in order to prevent this from happening. 

Obanai traced his fingers up the interior surface of his arm. There were more lines ensconced in his skin. More scars made from past memories. Some were made by him, others from his mother and cousins. Looking at his scars, he recognized the regret, insecurity, and shame in every mark. He growled and tossed his pillow across the room. It had been two months since he last hurt himself. 

Recovery was not a linear slope as Dr. Ubuyashiki had told him when he first started. He inhaled through his nose slowly, and blew out through his mouth. Forcing himself to slow down his heart rate with as many breaths as it took. 

Once he had calmed he threw the dark grey sheet aside and planted his feet on the carpet. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made his way to the bathroom. The cut burned under the warm water and soap. He pursed his lips and found a band aid in the drawer to cover it. Obanai placed his fingers under the counter and squeezed. Firm pressure tended to help, it was better than bleeding. 

Focus on three things, Obanai. He could hear the therapist say. He felt the cool surface under his palms, the sound of the air conditioner kicking on, and a piece of black hair in the sink. After a few minutes his grip on the counter loosened and he went back to his night stand. He grabbed his phone and put it in his pocket. He would respond to Mitsuri later but not right now. 

Walking to the kitchen, his teal eye looked at the calendar and noted it was one of Kaburamaru’s feeding days. Routines helped ease his nerves. He opened the freezer to retrieve his snake’s meal and placed it in the sink to thaw. He was going to work the dinner shift today and had until 4 P.M. to get to work. It was going to be a long day. Running a hand over his temples through his shoulder length hair he pulled it into a ponytail. The sensation of his hair touching his neck was too much right now. He pulled out his phone now and sent a message to his therapist. 

Iguro Obanai: It happened again. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki would respond when he was able to. They were already set to meet at 2:30. Maybe he wouldn’t. He tapped his toe on the ground counting out the hours until then.

Around 2:00 P.M. Obanai dressed in his work attire: Black chef pants and a long sleeved shirt, covering his scars, complete with face mask. His smooth hair was still tied back. He walked out the door and to his white Jeep. He still had not responded to Mitsuri because he had no idea how to respond to her. 

His mind was blank looking at her last message. It failed to construct any word, even a simple fine or good. Not only that but if he did respond she would too and he would be expected to send another reply. He could not do it right now. 

Obanai pulled out of his driveway and took the highway heading to the clinic. He was tempted not to go. Lying in bed for an hour was preferable to talking about his nightmare and morning with his therapist. It was his avoidant tendency telling him to not go.  But he had already told Dr. Ubuyashiki what he had done, slicing into his palm. 

He grumbled incoherently as he took his exit.  It was a moment of weakness. One he hated himself for. He had not harmed himself in two months and between the nightmare and his feelings of worthlessness and self loathing it dampened his defenses. Shaking his head he turned into the parking lot. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki took him back to his office immediately. The office had light blue walls in an attempt to create a relaxing environment. His office had two grey couches with blue wisteria pillows on either side. A glass coffee table rested between them. Beyond the couches was a dark oak desk. 

“Obanai, would you like to start by explaining the message from this morning?” The tall man asked in a neutral tone as he gestured for him to take a seat. Obanai sat down. 

They sat in silence as Obanai tried to formulate an explanation. Dr. Ubuyashiki knew his patient well at this point. Obanai’s self hatred mixed with his history of abuse made him revert to silence and avoidant style behaviors. His client also did not show up to his first seven scheduled appointments. It was obvious the younger man needed help but would not get it unless forced to. That was why he went to Obanai’s house for their first session. Obanai had never missed one since. Minutes passed without talking before Obanai showed his palm to the therapist.

“I would like you to explain what led you to this,” the counselor said. “You had been managing the impulses well for two months.” Obanai looked away and put his hands in his lap.

“I had a nightmare. My mother was braiding my hair before she slapped my face and beat me into the ground. I pleaded, but she kept hitting me. I had only been five,” he spoke, his hands gripped his knees. His therapist nodded allowing him the time and space to continue. 

“I could not fight back. I was powerless,” Obanai said, he forced the tension in his shoulders and arms to relax. “She kept calling me her Baby as she kicked me down. When I woke up I thought about her last words calling me disgusting, filthy trash and I repeated her words to myself. I was barely awake when the shame and guilt overwhelmed me and I cut into my palm.”

“From what you have told me your mother was a complicated woman. Although I never met her, she had her own demons. You did not deserve to be hurt by her,” Dr. Ubuyashiki explained as he crossed his legs.

“Logically, I know she should not have done what she did.” Obanai leaned over and put his head in his hands covering his eyes. “However, I cannot separate how she should have acted versus how she did act. I still want to make excuses for her actions.” Dr. Ubuyashiki raised a brow.

“Yes, I know I have to accept I will never know the truth.” Obanai glared at the therapist. “However, I cannot help but speculate. Did she hate my father so much that she took it out on me? Was I a scapegoat? Did she hate herself? Was she abused as a child? I’m trying to rationalize her, but maybe she did not even realize what she was doing," he said out loud. 

“What explanation would be acceptable for you? Right now you are going down a slippery slope,” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked pointedly. 

Obanai took a deep breath and glanced at the clock. Their session was half way over. Most of it had been spent in silence, waiting for him to talk. He removed his hands from his face. “None. She should not have hurt me," he said. “But-”

“Period. She never should have harmed you. Period,” his therapist confirmed. Obanai opened his mouth to speak again and then stopped. He shut down the buts, ifs, maybes in his mind. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts settle. 

“She never should have hurt me,” he repeated. 

“I want you to repeat that mantra the next time you think about harming yourself. She never should have harmed you and you try your best not to harm yourself. Recovery is not linear,” his therapist repeated his own mantra. Obanai almost laughed since he had used the same phrase earlier this morning. 

More silence before Dr. Ubuyashiki asked, “At the last session, you told me you had an engagement to go to. How did that go?” 

“Okay. I stayed longer than I anticipated.” This made Ubuyashiki smile.

“You must have been enjoying yourself then,” he supplied. 

“Sort of. The couple introduced me to the Maid of Honor and it would have been rude to leave directly afterward,” Obanai said. Ubuyashiki hummed, making Obanai continue speaking. “She was…nice.” 

“Nice? I think that might be the first time I ever heard you compliment a woman.” 

“Not the first. I’ve said before that Kanae is a great botanist and praised her garden.”

“That’s skill, not personality. Have you talked to her since?” His therapist asked.

“I went on a tour with her, Kanae, and Sanemi to see a potential wedding venue. She asked for my number and we’ve been messaging each other for the past week,” Obanai explained almost shyly. 

“Oh. I am proud of you, I know it can be difficult to socialize with women,” he commended. “When are you going to see her next?” 

Obanai felt his throat close up. He wanted to see her, but he would leave it up to fate or the next wedding related event. He licked his chapped lips, feeling anxious again. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki tapped his pointer and middle fingers against his cheek. “I have homework for you then. I would like you to set up a meet up with her before our next session. Something easy like going to a park, hike, or a museum,” he explained. 

He almost rejected. The homework assigned was always optional, but Obanai found the assignments helped with his anxiety, self loathing, and coping methods. “I’ll try my best,” he accepted. 

“That is all I ask of you, Obanai. Just try.” Dr. Ubuyashiki smiled at him. “Our session is complete.” 

Opening up his Jeep’s door, Obanai contemplated how and where he would try to see Mitsuri. He pulled up her last message trying to think of a response. He had to work in approximately 30 minutes and it took 20 minutes to drive there. He hardly checked his phone in the kitchen. Without further thinking, he sent her exactly what he wanted to say and forced himself to press the send button before he could stop himself.

Iguro Obanai: Do you want to come to Nichirin tonight? You mentioned wanting to go and I’m working.

Kanroji Mitsuri: Are you offering to cook for me? :) 

Iguro Obanai: If you pay, yes. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: haha Yes, I’d love to! I have to go home and shower first. 

Iguro Obanai: I’ll see you later then

Kanroji Mitsuri: I can’t wait!

Obanai wanted to see her. He just dreaded what would happen when he did, especially after his shitty day. He gripped his steering steel firmly, focusing on the tension in his biceps and forearms as he held it. The leather was smooth beneath his fingers. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered to himself before turning the car keys. “You will be okay.”

Obanai ducked into Nichirin through the back door that opened up to a large sink and commercial grade dishwasher. Ryo was already filling the sink with a sanitizing solution, diluting it with water. She waved at him, the sound of the sink overshadowing any other greeting. 

Beyond that was the freezer and refrigerators cast in stainless steel. He ran his hand along the familiar metal, growing some semblance of comfort in the normalcy of it. In this kitchen, he had full control. He was in charge outside of the head chef who had Mondays off. 

Two of his prep chefs nodded in greeting as one stirred a pot of broth and the other organized his station and the grill. Between 2-5 P.M. the chefs split their time between cleaning, prepping vegetables and cuts of meat, or taking inventory for the following day. The two chefs he saw were reliable and stayed on task, so he told them to continue with their work. Obanai grabbed a clipboard from the small office attached to the kitchen. 

He was almost on autopilot as he looked through the fridge, making note of what he needed to order and how much for the following week. It was methodical, counting out the number of each food and rotating the older and fresh food bins to ensure nothing was wasted. A line cook walked in and Obanai set him to work at the grill. 

When 5 P.M. came around Obanai was done taking inventory and starting looking over the kitchen for anything he missed as he delegated roles to the last two chefs to wander in off the street. He only had to bark insults at the last one to come in 15 minutes past his scheduled time before assigning him to butcher meat and less enjoyable tasks. 

Obanai was at the end of the assembly line, plating food and ensuring the quality was up to the restaurant’s standards. In the dinner rush, he had nearly forgotten that Mitsuri agreed to come in. He was in his element as he sent back a dish that was too cold to serve. 

As the rush faded providing a loll in service, a waitress walked into the kitchen. Her black hair tied into two buns on either side of her head. She looked directly at Obanai and he went up to her as he wiped his hands on the towel on his left shoulder. 

“A customer is requesting to see you when you have a moment,” Aoi said. “She said you invited her.”

Obanai swallowed. She had actually come to see his restaurant. Mitsuri said she would, but in the rush he failed to think of anything to say to her in person. 

“Tell her it will be a bit before I can come out.” That was a lie. “Did you get her order?” He asked, his mouth felt dry. 

“Yeah,” Aoi confirmed. “She wanted the pork cutlet with cabbage salad and steamed rice. An extra side of tonkatsu sauce too.”

He nodded and dismissed Aoi. Obanai told the chef preparing the meat and grill to take a break and he would cover until he got back. He breaded the pork and threw it on the grill. When it was done, he placed it beside a bed of steamed rice and cabbage salad. By the time Obanai finished plating her dish with an extra bowl of tonkatsu sauce the other chef finished his break. He told the kitchen he was taking his break before washing his hands and removing the towel and apron tied over his front. 

Obanai grabbed Mitsuri’s meal and headed out into the dining area. He spotted her in an instant sitting at a high table pushed against the window. It was hard to miss pink and lime hair. Beyond the family of three and a couple. Her head was turned watching the street outside. Cars sitting at the stoplight and people walking by. One hand used a straw to stir her coke while the other rested under her head. Her hair was still wet from the shower. She had donned a lacy yellow tank top with a flowy heather grey skirt that draped over the wooden stool. She kicked her feet in the air absentmindedly as she waited. She could have been a painting in the Met for all he knew.

Watching her live in her own little world made his mind hazy. She looked beautiful, comfortable enough to sit by herself. It made him braver as he made his way to her table. He set the ceramic plate and bowl in front of her. The sound of it made her turn her head. Her green eyes blazed as they met him. 

“Obanai,” Mitsuri greeted him with a pleasant smile. Her soothing voice easing his nerves, drawing him into her. He welcomed her warmth, letting himself stand in her light for a short time. He would never regret seeing her. Not when she was looking at him with her kind green eyes solely focused on him. They never strayed from him. 

“Do you have time to sit with me? Talking in person is so much better than text.” He sat down beside her. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Thank you for inviting me. I was super excited to try this place ever since I moved here,” she continued. 

Despite his dry mouth, he heard himself ask, “When did you move here?” 

“A month ago.” She picked up the chopsticks and used them to place a piece of the tonkatsu in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back before she shut them. “This is amazing. It’s so juicy!” 

Obanai could feel his cheeks heating under the mask as she praised his cooking. He played with the hem of his shirt, running his finger over the threads to ease his anxiety. He never knew how to respond to praise. Usually he said nothing.  

“Did you add lemon to the breading? You have to give me the recipe,” she said as she took another bite, this time dipping it in the sauce. Mitsuri wiggled in her seat, pleased by the meal. 

“If I did, you’d never come back,” Obanai said. It was forward and he started to backtrack. “I mean-“

Mitsuri’s face lit up as she laughed. Her left hand covered her mouth trying to siffle the sound. “I’d come back to see you.” She looked back at her plate and started on the cabbage salad. Her cheeks flushed. 

His brain short circuited. She wanted to see him. She wanted to see him. A lump formed in his throat overcome with emotion. No one had made an effort to see him outside of those he considered family. Yet here she was sitting next to him enjoying the meal he prepared for her. It mystified him. Whatever deity that made her want to see him he would worship. 

“I’m glad you like it, Mitsuri.” He felt himself grinning under his mask, scar tissue pulling. His breath was hot against the cloth. 

“No, I don’t just like it, Obanai, I love it. I’ve never tasted anything better.” She brushed her hand against his arm laid on the table and he expected himself to finch away, but he did not. For whatever reason, his body and mind trusted her not to hurt him. His face felt hot and he knew he had to be red in the face due to her praises. 

They sat in companionable silence as she ate her meal. It was comforting to watch her enjoying his meal. Objectively, he knew he was a good chef, but it was different making a meal for someone he had a personal connection to. He listened to her munching on the cabbage salad. No doubt she was kicking her feet under the table as he felt a light rush of air on his legs. 

They sat within a foot of each other and he smelled her perfume, a mixture of sakura blossoms and vanilla. It invited him to look at the flesh of her slender neck, down to her clavicle. His eyes dared to travel lower, to take in every inch of her, to memorize her every curve, but he stopped himself. 

He was attracted to her, but there was no possibility of anything happening. He would not tempt himself or disregard her. With her looks and figure, she was probably ogled at by men and subjected to their disgusting comments and unwanted attention. Obanai had no right to ogle or lust after her. An inkling of this morning’s self loathing trickled in like a stream. Except it seemed to stop when he noticed her tilting her head towards him. She wanted to see him, he reminded himself therefore vanishing his negative thoughts for the time being.

“Can I try something else? If you’re not busy, of course.” Mitsuri set down her chopsticks. She looked around the restaurant. There were only a few tables occupied, less packed than when she got here. 

“Mondays are normally slower than the rest of the week. I’ll make you whatever you want,” Obanai agreed to her demands. She touched her pointer finger to her lip, lost in thought. 

“Can I have the Yaki Udon without the udon?” Mitsuri said seriously, meeting his gaze. She tried not to smile as the corners of her mouth twitched and she puffed up her cheeks trying not to chuckle. He opened his mouth, at first shocked by her words and then let out a raspy laugh. Fuck, she referenced one of their first text conversations. 

Her laughter joined his and patted his hand. “Sorry,” she said between laughs. “I couldn’t resist.” 

“No, that was perfect,” he replied. He never used that word, but she was perfect. Sweet, elegant, and unique. “Did you want a second dish? There should be some time left on my break if you do.” 

Her mouth opened partially and her green eyes looked uncertain. Mitsuri rested her palm over the back of his hand. He did not move. Obanai liked the feeling of her smooth skin over him, something he never expected to enjoy. It felt normal. It was what a 27 year old should be doing. 

“Shit, I forgot you were on your break. Did you have anything to eat?” She asked with concern. Mitsuri brought her hands to her lap. “You should go eat.” She insisted. 

“I don’t normally eat,” Obanai admitted, her concern was palpable. Her eyes widened. “I don’t eat at work,” he explained. Mitsuri did not need to know he ate once every two or three days depending on his mood. He could not exactly remember when he last ate come to think of it. 

“Oh. I would be starving if I didn’t eat snacks while I was at work. Hopefully, you have something prepared for later. Umm, I would love a bowl of miso ramen without meat if that’s easy enough.” 

“Consider it done,” Obanai said and turned in his seat. He headed back into the kitchen to retrieve her food. He tried to ignore the looks his kitchen staff shared when he came back in. The sous chef put ramen noodles into boiling water before ladling miso broth in a serving bowl. Ramen cooked quickly, so he poured the noodles into the broth. He added chopped green onions, soft boiled egg, pickled bamboo, and a sprinkle of sesame oil. It took all of ten minutes. Obanai grabbed Mitsuri’s dish and returned to her table.

“Done,” Obanai said as he placed the steaming bowl in front of her to She bowed her head to him in thanks and clapped her hands together, clearly excited by the food. It warmed him seeing her reaction to him serving her. She wore her heart on her sleeve, any emotion she experienced was projected on her face. The pink haired woman picked up her chopsticks again and took a bite of the ramen. 

“Hmmm,” He heard her moan. It was almost sensual. He swallowed, uncomfortable because he could feel hunger gnawing at his insides. She had an uncommon brilliance in everything she did. He only wanted a moment of her time in this thing called life if she let him. 

“I am going to head back to work,” he said awkwardly. Obanai stepped back and was about to turn when she spoke. 

“Thank you again, Obanai,” she said, green eyes shining as they watched him. She focused solely on him at that moment. Everyone and everything dissolved leaving only the two of them. Mitsuri sitting on the stool and him standing like an idiot. “I’ll make you food the next time I see you.” Her light, bubbly voice shattering the ice in his veins. 

If he said anything he would have fumbled over his words. He simply nodded, giving a small wave as he turned away. He was a goner. Obanai went back to the kitchen. His safe place where he controlled the environment. His heart rate quickened and he felt like a weight had been lifted at her words. Almost no one offered to cook for him. Mitsuri was too kind. 

His social circle was rather small and composed of men that had the bare minimum for cooking skills. He would rather go hungry than eat whatever they cooked. In high school, Kyojuro decided to make sushi and ended up burning the rice. 

He shook his head, not wanting to dwell too long on his emotions. Obanai went into work mode for the rest of night. He handled customer complaints, barked orders for more vegetables to be prepared, and ensured the plates had everything before being sent out. At the end of his shift, he rubbed the sweat off his forehead with a towel. He made it back to his Jeep and opened his phone. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: Thank you so much for tonight! Let’s do it again sometime soon 🙂

Iguro Obanai: If you want to

He never knew how to respond to her. Her bubbly personality surfaced in her messages and his bland personality barely reached the surface. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: I owe you. Thanks for being my friend, Obanai. Sweet dreams! 🌃

For the first time in his life, he understood what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach.  

Chapter Text

Mid to Late August

Mitsuri sat on the couch opposite the engaged couple. She had to toss aside the three butterfly pillows just to sit down. Kanae invited her over to go over the schedule she had planned for the eleven months. They had to narrow down the guest list to a maximum of 125 people and send out Save the Date cards. That and decide on an officiate. 

“Sanemi.” Kanae pouted from her spot on the couch. She had calves and feet over his thighs as she looked at him. “I hate that Tengen and Kyojuro both offered to officiate our ceremony. I can’t pick one without the other getting hurt.” Sanemi patted her leg.

“Either one will work. We can flip a coin and make it easier,” he offered. The black haired woman stared at him blankly.

“Not funny,” Kanae stuck her tongue out at him. “They’re marrying us and we can’t pick the wrong one. Or what if we have a falling out with one of them then our photos would be ruined.” Sanemi just shrugged nonchalantly. 

“You could make a pros and cons list for the two,” Mitsuri suggested as she repositioned her legs beneath her. Her friend’s pale violet eyes flickered to her. 

“See? This is why she’s the Maid of Honor.” Kanae took her feet off Sanemi and walked into the kitchen. She came back with a notepad and pen and sat down beside the white haired man. 

“Let’s start with the pros and cons for Tengen,” Kanae said as she noted down his name. Mitsuri had met Tengen several times. They had gone to the same college and lived in the same dorm freshman year. He majored in art or media design. 

“He’s the God of Festivals,” Sanemi listed this as a pro. “He always knew how to throw a party in college. Tengen has been my friend for seven years and pointed out that you liked me. He gave me the final push to ask you out.” 

“That’s true. He also teased us mercilessly for not getting together sooner,” Kanae pointed out. 

“He’s a bit flashy and could steal your spotlight,” Mitsuri said. Kanae underlined that particular con. “He has three wives.”

“Is that a pro or a con?” Kanae asked, tilting her head at the other woman. 

“Both? I mean, he’s had his own ceremonies to marry each one and has some experience with weddings. However, the guests might be gossiping during the wedding about him and his polygamy. Not that I’m judging,” Mitsuri explained. Kanae nodded and glanced at Sanemi. 

“I think most of our guests are pretty open minded, so I don’t know if they’d be talking too much about Tengen’s wives,” Kanae explained. “What do you think?” 

Sanemi peered over her list. “I don’t think they’d be able to gossip over Tengen’s loud ass voice and flamboyant self. Although, he can say the dumbest shit,” he said. “He told me the other day if he had kids with all of his wives then they’d be third siblings because there’s three moms. He was completely convinced they’d share DNA with each wife.” He shook his head. Mitsuri laughed lightly. Surely, it was a joke.

“Aren’t Suma and Makio related like distant cousins or something? If they were then maybe he could be onto something,” she said unconvincingly. Sanemi’s pale purple eyes turned to her.

“No… it’s actually Makio and Tengen that share a common ancestor, but it’s like 200 years back, but it still would not mean his kids would be third siblings. Third siblings don’t exist,” he groaned. “Fucking idiot.”

“He could have been saying it to get a rise out of you,” Kanae theorized, one brow raised. Sanemi looked back at her realization dawning on his sharp features. 

“That asshole. I’m going to put him in a headlock the next time I see him,” Sanemi started planning his revenge, purple eyes flashing with rage. 

“Like you wouldn’t do that, anyway?” Kanae teased him. He narrowed his gaze at her, but kissed her temple. “Moving on,” Kanae sighed and looked down at her list, her pen tracing the words she wrote. ”Kyojuro. Pros and cons, go,” she said, pointing at Mitsuri. 

“I don’t know him very well, but he seems extremely outgoing and positive,” she offered. She only met him at the engagement party, but he seemed like an old friend. He had arrived late due to work. He was a firefighter and finished a 24 hour shift, but decided to come to the party directly afterwards. There was no doubt he would do anything for his friends if they asked regardless of his situation. 

“That he is. At first, it was very annoying as if he was pretending to be an enthusiastic extrovert, but that’s just who he is. I don’t think he has a mean bone in his body,” Kanae commented. 

“He does. In high school, he had a feud with a guy named Douma. Douma was an asshole who harassed some girls of the cheerleading squad after their cheer captain rejected him including Kyojuro’s girlfriend at the time. Kyojuro found Douma’s car and slashed his tires. He left a note under the windshield wipers that said something to the effect of, 'Next time it will be your balls’.” Sanemi smirked. 

Mitsuri raised her eyebrows briefly, shocked by the story. She could not imagine the man with yellow-red eyes would do that, especially the note. There was also the fact they knew each other from high school. Did Kyojuro know Obanai too? 

“I doubt that,” Kanae disagreed. 

“It’s true. Ask Obanai about it,” Sanemi suggested. 

“I will and he’ll probably tell me you did it.” Kanae pulled out her phone in order to call. “Wait, isn’t he working today?”

“I’m not sure,” Sanemi said. “I’ll call him and settle it. He won’t pick up for you.” Mitsuri held out her hand trying to get their attention before they called. 

“Actually, he had to go into work early because two of the line cooks did not show up,” Mitsuri explained. Kanae’s head snapped over to her friend with wide eyes. Mitsuri had told her that Obanai and her had been texting regularly, but not the consistency of their messages. Or the fact, Mitsuri visited him at work two weeks ago. Sanemi grinned, his teeth showing, clearly amused by her admission. 

“We’ll call him after work then and he will tell you I was right.” Sanemi jutted his chin out. Kanae used the pen to tap his nose and he snapped his mouth at it. 

“At best it will be a half truth,” Kanae said, glancing at her fiance before looking back at Mitsuri. “I didn’t realize you two talked so much.” 

They didn’t actually talk that much. Obanai and her messaged on and off throughout the day. Their messages had been slowing down due to her job. The school year started last week and she had been extremely busy with her lesson plans, students and their parents, emails, and bureaucratic paperwork. By the time she got off, he was at work. Yesterday, she sent him two messages, good morning and good night. Today she asked if he was coming to Sanemi and Kanae’s house, but he had not been able to. Internally, she felt deflated when he told her. She missed him. Seeing him in person and hearing his laugh made her feel like she was floating. 

“Not really. I wanted to know if he was coming here today,” Mitsuri said and decided to switch topics. “Are Obanai and Kyojuro friends too?” 

“They’re brothers. Kyojuro’s family adopted Obanai when he was twelve,” Sanemi answered. If she had known Kyojuro’s last name was Rengoku she would have made the connection. That made Mitsuri pause; she could not imagine Obanai sitting next to Kyojuro. They were too different. One shone like the fiery sun and the other faded into the shadows. 

“They get along very well, but Kyojuro can win anyone over,” Kanae added. “But we’re not going over the past. Back to the list.” 

“Con: He can be overwhelming for others. He could also be called into work at any time even during our ceremony,” Sanemi pointed out. Kanae underlined that con.

“He uses the word ‘tasty’ for everything,” Kanae added. 

“Tengen uses ‘flashy’ for everything,” Sanemi said, defending the firefighter.

“Point taken,” Kanae replied. “What do you think? Who would you want to officiate your wedding?” 

Green eyes looked between the two. She had not thought of marriage since her break up and they had not gotten that far in planning. Tengen and Kyojuro were their friends and she knew them tangentially. Tengen was poetic and charming with a flamboyant personality while Kyojuro was extraverted, positive, and made anyone feel special. Plus, she knew now he was Obanai’s adoptive brother. 

“I’d pick Kyojuro,” she admitted. “You’ve known him longer and he seems very genuine. If he’s called in, Tengen can take over. I’d also be worried if Tengen decided to say something… Inappropriate during the ceremony to upset you.” 

“That’s fair,” Kanae said, agreeing with Mitsuri. “Kyojuro it is," she confirmed, sparing a glance at Sanemi. 

“Good with me,” he signed off. 

“At least we have one thing figured out. We have eleven months to go. Next, we can only have 125 guests.” Kanae flipped the page on her notepad. 

“Between the two of us, our parents and our siblings, their partners, and children will account for at least 20 people,” the bride was tallying off the numbers. “Aunts, uncles, and cousins would reach 40.” 

“Are you going to let the guests have plus ones? Because that will bump up the numbers quickly,” Mitsuri asked.

“Crap,” Sanemi said under his breath. “We’ll have to see how many people we get to before we add dates or cut people.” 

“Why? Do you have someone you want to bring?” Kanae asked with a smirk on her face. Mitsuri blushed, not wanting her friend’s attention. 

“No. I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. Not after Kyo,” as she said his name she felt a burnt taste in her mouth. “They would have to be exceptional if I did,” she added. 

“You have time to change your mind if you want to bring someone. I won’t be a bridezilla unless they’re an asshole,” Kanae said. “I won’t have assholes at my wedding.”

“Then I guess I’m uninvited?” Sanemi squeezed Kanae’s side and she swatted his hand away. Mitsuri laughed seeing the two together. Their closeness and bond was palpable and she hoped she would find someone she could have similar chemistry with. Although, Kanae and Sanemi teased each other often and Sanemi acted like an idiot, they were well matched. She evened out his rough edges and he made her more assertive. 

“I doubt Genya or Obanai will bring dates either. Didn’t Shinobu start dating someone?” Sanemi asked, taking the pressure off of Mitsuri. She let out a sigh of relief as their discussion turned back to the guest list. 

Mitsuri wondered what sort of dating experience Obanai had due to Sanemi’s assumption. Or what sort of person he would be interested in even. Did he like women,  men, both? Admittedly, Mitsuri was pansexual as she was attracted to people based on their personality. Their physical appearance mattered less. It made her shudder to think she had ever dated Kyo. At first he had been exceptionally kind and thoughtful, but a leopard can only hide his spots for so long. She could feel the hairs on her forearm rise when she thought of him. 

“Yeah, she met a guy in Boston, but you know how she is. She dates someone for two months and drops them. She calls it ‘Catch and Release’, but for dating. I’d be surprised if this new one lasts with her residency,” Kanae explained. 

“As long as he is not in any of the wedding photos, he can come. Or whoever she is with at that time, granted he is not an asshole,” Sanemi said. 

The rest of the night was dedicated to picking and choosing who and who would not be invited. Mitsuri added a few comments here and there about seating and how to maximize the space to accommodate every person Sanemi and Kanae invited. They were organized enough to complete the list by themselves. They did not need her to help finalize the list. 

She also showed Kanae several different options for the Save the Date cards. Kanae surprisingly went with a modern style with print letters. Mitsuri always imagined she would pick a rustic design given the venue. Around 10 P.M. Mitsuri headed out the door and left in her green VW Beetle after sending a quick message to Obanai. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: You didn’t miss much. They’re going to have Kyojuro officiate the ceremony. 😊 I didn’t realize he was your adoptive brother

Hopefully, he didn’t take it as an invasion of privacy by mentioning she knew. He had already told her he was adopted by the Rengokus. She didn’t expect to get an answer until she was asleep. She took a left to get onto the main road. At the stoplight she glanced down at her phone and saw his message. 

Iguro Obanai: I figured you knew. 

She wanted to respond but the light turned green and she hit the gas pedal. Without thinking she pressed his contact and called him. Realistically, he would not be done with work until 12 P.M. and he could not answer. However, he picked up on the third ring. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m just driving home and thought it’d be easier to call instead of text,” Mitsuri said in a hurry. 

“You know it’s illegal to text and drive, right?” He asked bluntly. She heard a hint of mirth in his voice and she felt herself smile. His quick wit and dry humor made her laugh. 

“Yes, that's why I’m calling instead of texting. Sorry, you must still be at work. We can chat later,” she said. She tapped her steering wheel with her nervous energy. 

“It’s fine. I’m cleaning the grill now and plan on heading out soon,” Obanai said as she heard the sound of a scraper running over metal and then a spray bottle. 

“Then should I call back so you can focus?” She asked. She had not meant to disturb while he was at work, but her impulsivity got the best of her. Mitsuri took the ramp to get onto the highway. 

“No, it’ll only take a minute,” he murmured. She could imagine him in his chef’s apron leaning over a grill and scrubbing it until it shined. Every action was methodical with his concentric circles across the metal.  

“If you’re sure,” she added, which allowed him a way out, turning her blinker on to merge into the left lane. At this hour there was hardly anyone on the road. 

“I am,” he said. “I thought you knew Kyojuro was my adoptive brother. You met him at the party, right?”

“Yes, but I didn’t get his last name. You only told me the Rengoku’s adopted you,” she explained. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, dropping his tone in what she perceived as embarrassment. She imagined a hint of a blush spreading over his face. 

“I should have asked more questions, but I didn’t want to bother you.” One more exit to go. 

“You would never bother me,” Obanai admitted. Mitsuri felt her heartbeat quicken at the soft tone he used. She felt a tear form at the corner of one eye and she had to blink it away. Mitsuri was overly sensitive and cried easily. She couldn’t cry and drive. 

“I appreciate it,” Mitsuri said. “Sometimes I feel like a burden to others, so thank you for telling me.” In the dark, she could say anything to him. 

There was silence on his end. Had she admitted too much? She heard shuffling at the other end of the line and a door slamming shut. He must have left the restaurant.

“I would never think of you as a burden, Mitsuri. I don’t think anyone else does either,” he said calmly. She could imagine his amber and teal eyes watching her as he said this, startlingly honest and sincere. It made her feel warm and cherished. 

“If anyone says otherwise, they’ll answer to me,” Obanai said with an edge to his voice. She pursed her lips wanting to scream excitedly. He would defend her. It was more than she could ask for from a friend. 

“Do you want to hang out now?” She blurted out, her impulses taking control. She looked at her car’s dashboard which read 10:25 P.M. It was a Saturday night and she had nowhere to go except for home. She took her exit. “It’s late, but I figured you’d be awake for a while. We’ve both been busy the last two weeks and I want to see you. If not, it’s alright. No worries!” 

Time seemed to stop. It was random and weird to ask someone to hang out after ten, but they were adults. She didn’t have anyone to answer to. Plus, she wanted to see him. He made her feel… seen and accepted despite her anxiety and rambling. He did not judge her for her eccentric appearance.

“Yes,” Obanai answered. Inwardly, she squealed. She turned the corner onto her block. 

“What would you like to do? You could come over or we could meet at some place. I’m up for anything.” Mitsuri parked her car in her driveway. She had to feed Captain Sushi before she did anything. Obanai coughed on the other end of the line. 

“Usually I go to the gym after work. Would you like to go? I can send you the address,” he suggested. “…or I could pick you up?”

Mitsuri bit her bottom lip. “Where’s the gym? I don’t want to make you drive just to pick me up if it’s closer to you.”

“You’re not a bother, Mitsuri,” he reassured her. Fuck, she hated the way his voice soothed her. Relaxed and steady. It sent chills down her arms. “The gym’s close to my work around Camellia Square, I’ll send you the exact address when I’m done driving.”

“I can drive myself. I’ll get dressed and see you soon,” she said. 

“See you,” Obanai said. Mitsuri disconnected the call. She threw her phone in her purse and hurried inside. Captain Sushi greeted her at the door by rubbing against her legs. She almost tripped over him. 

“I’ll feed you first.” She crouched down to pet him and he jumped up on his hind legs to rub his face against her palm. She stood up again and headed towards the kitchen. She grabbed his food from the fridge and dumped a can of wet food onto a dish. She placed it on his food mat underneath the built-in desk in the kitchen. Sushi chirped and leaned over the dish to eat his dinner.

She scratched his ears before walking to her room to put on different clothes. Usually she wore an old band t-shirt with baggy shorts, but she had to look somewhat presentable. Her mother would disapprove if she didn’t try. However, she also would not approve of Mitsuri meeting a guy she hardly knew after 10 in the evening. 

She striped off her tank top and shorts. Mitsuri slid on black running shorts, sports bra, and a white Addias tank. Looking in the mirror she adjusted the fit of her top. Her shoulders and biceps were well defined and could make a grown man cry. Maybe she should change the top. She put her hands on either side of her face and slapped, making herself snap out of it. 

“You look good. You’re just going to hang out at the gym with him,” she reminded herself. “It’s not a date. Just a hang out. You said you were not interested in dating.” She slapped her cheeks lightly again. Mitsuri grabbed a scrunchie off her nightstand, bent over, and put her hair into a bun on top of her head. 

“Perfect!” She smiled at herself in the mirror with a wink and went back to the kitchen where she left her purse and phone. She took out the phone and saw that Obanai had sent her the address of the gym. It was a 10 minute drive. Sushi meowed again. She gave him a quick pat before walking out the door. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: See you in a few! 🏃

Iguro Obanai: I’ll wait outside for you.

He had no idea why he said Yes to seeing her right now. Actually, he did. He missed her. The last two weeks he found himself thinking of what he could cook for her next or what she might make him. Even if she did make him something, he would have to wait to eat it. There was no way in hell he would show her his scars. 

Obanai winced thinking of the way people reacted to them. Disgust. Shock. Pity. It was written all over their faces. That was why he wore the mask. To hide the horrifying marks on his face. The raised surface of them varying from purple, pink, and his skin tone. The Rengokus had seen them and barely grimaced at the sight anymore. Sanemi had also seen them on occasion that it was only the two of them.

With his sexual partners, they never saw his wretched face as he kissed them or pleasured them. They had been intrigued by the masked man sitting at the bar with Sanemi, Tengen, and Kyojuro. They came onto him and he led them to the poorly lit bathroom, hotel room, hallway, or dark alley. His partners liked the risk he offered them. In the dark, he tried to pretend he didn’t have the scars. That he looked the same as any other man. A mouth was a mouth to his hookups. They meant little to him and he to them. Noncommittal. He had not been with anyone in over a year, maybe two. Before Mitsuri stumbled into his life, he would have said he was aroace. 

Leaning against the brick wall beside his gym his eyes drifted to the road. He pulled his long sleeves down. It would be too easy to tell where the scars of his arms came from and he did not want to have that conversation tonight. He wondered how desperate she thought he was. A pathetic excuse for a man. 

Reframe your thoughts. You cannot read Mitsuri’s mind. She wants to see you and she said it herself. He thought, taking time to focus on his breath. A green Beetle drove by and parallel parked in front of him. The gym had nearly no one at 11 at night, even less on a Saturday. Most people were out on dates, dinners, and parties. He avoided crowded events and areas like the plague. 

Mitsuri stepped out of her car and he was struck by her outfit. It was simple and plain. Black shorts and a white top that accentuated her curves from her large chest, narrow waist, and wide hips. Her shoulders and arms were toned and defined in the different muscle groups. He licked his lips, forcing himself to look anywhere but her body. Blood ran to his lower half and he was grateful to be wearing baggy sweats. 

“Hey.” She walked around the car and over to him. “Are you ready to work out?” She asked, beaming at him. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and turned towards the front door. He scanned his gym access card over the entry. No one manned the desk at this hour, so she wouldn’t have to pay the guest fee. 

“Do you ever lift?” He asked while attempting not to look directly at her. 

“I did some lifting with my brother and sister in high school, but it’s been awhile,” Mitsuri said. “I gain muscle very easily due to my family’s genetics, so I try to avoid lifting weights.” That made him turn his head back to her. He focused on her face.

“Why would you avoid weights because you gain muscle easily?” He asked. Her green eyes looked between him and the lifting equipment before leaning closer to him. 

“It’s not very feminine to have muscles. A lot of guys don’t like it,” she admitted in a whisper. There was one other man in the gym on a treadmill. He didn’t understand her need to whisper. 

“Who told you that?” He asked, angrily. “You are the most feminine person I’ve met. If muscles scare off a man then he doesn’t deserve you.” 

“I’ve heard it a lot." One of her hands rubbed her shoulder. “My ex thought I was too masculine,” she added.

“Fuck him,” Obanai spat without thinking. He tightened his fists thinking of someone insulting Mitsuri’s appearance. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, inside and out. Mitsuri laughed lightly hearing his quick dismissal of her ex. 

“That’s why he’s an ex,” she shrugged. 

“Good, you are better than him. Your partner shouldn’t shame you for your appearance,” he said. He never had a relationship, but he knew the difference between healthy and unhealthy. It was also precisely why he never had a relationship. He would only offer toxicity. Pink tainted her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to warm up on a treadmill and then I’ll meet you in the weight room.” She went over to the cardio machines and he went over to a padded bench. He performed ankle pumps and knee extensions, forcing his blood into his legs, and thought about anything but the woman he brought to the gym.

Except he was aware of her presence, he could feel her green eyes on him briefly and then look away. After five minutes she finished warming up, and she walked over to him. There was a layer of sweat on her brow. 

“I’m ready now,” she said. 

“I usually work with 80 kilograms, but I can go up to 115 kilograms with less reps,” Obanai started. He had a slight frame and weighed 55 kilograms soaking wet. “I do four sets of 10 reps for each lift. Do you want to try that weight first?” 

Mitsuri held her hand to her mouth looking uncertain for a second before responding. “The last time I did this I was using 105 kilograms.” She looked over at the stacked weights, shifting her feet. 

He smiled beneath his mask. Most of the strength for lifting came from a person’s legs. He glanced at her thighs, noting her large quadriceps, admiring the shape. He wondered what they would look like beneath- he was not going to follow that train of thought otherwise he would be back to doing squats.

“Then you can probably do more than 80 for that four sets of 10. 90?” He asked and grabbed a weight to add to one side. She nodded and added weight to the other side. She stood behind the weight and close to squatting as she wrapped her hands around it. He watched her form, suggesting to spread her legs a little wider.

This might have been a bad idea in hindsight. Obanai took in the sight of her pushing through her legs to lift the bar, his mismatched gaze noting the curve of her thighs and hips. Her lifting form was impeccable after his one reminder to widen her stance. She completed one set and set down the weight gently. 

“Do you want to try it?” She asked, stepping away. He nodded and took her position behind the weight. He would do less repetitions at this weight. He did eight instead of ten as planned. Mitsuri unknowingly challenged him to do more than his usual. They switched back and forth as they completed one form and then the next. It was easy to be in her presence. They seemed to almost be dancing as they changed positions. 

Usually, when he worked out with someone it was Sanemi, Kyojuro, Tengen, or Senjuro. They were all easily distracted and tended to get sidetracked by conversation. Mitsuri was quiet as she performed each lift ensuring her entire focus was on the exercise. It was admirable and cute. She furrowed her eyebrows for the last rep with each set, determination evident on her face. 

He could feel his hot breath against the paper mask. Obanai was tempted to pull it down over his chin to let himself breathe normally. The gym’s overhead fans in the midst of a hot muggy summer could only help so much. The scar tissue on his cheeks prevented him from sweating. If he were alone he would not be wearing it. Instead it would be tucked in his pockets ready to slap on in a moment’s notice. The windows were frosted, obscuring the view on the inside. Though there were mirrors to assist the gym goers in monitoring their stances, he took care to find a spot without them. He scratched his right cheek, the heat irritating his skin. 

Mitsuri looked over at him at that moment. She finished her last exercise. Her eyes stared at the mask. No doubt she was wondering why he wore it, but too polite to ask outright. She sat on the bench beside him. 

“You’re wondering about the mask, aren’t you?” He heard himself question her. Her face reddened, embarrassed at being caught. Her feelings were easily read on her face. He liked that about her. Her authentic personality and wearing her emotions on her sleeve. She nodded quickly. 

“Yes, but it’s none of my business. I don’t want to pressure you into telling me if you don’t want to,” Mitsuri said hurriedly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be staring at you. It’s rude.” Her head turned away from him and at the lifting room’s rules and guidelines with feigned interest. 

She had no idea how adorable she was in her actions. He felt weak around her, breathing in her sweet scent and watching her shoulders rise and fall with her increased breathing, trying to recover from the workout. 

“I have scars on my face,” he felt as if someone else was talking as he spoke. He pointed to each cheek. “They’re grotesque to say the least.” In the hours before dawn, he felt a link between them. Slow to acknowledge a thread too fine to notice until he felt the pull of her. Mitsuri was silent, he saw her shoulders stiffen and her breath still.

“Oh,” she said, rigidly. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude and stare. I was just wondering.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. You’re only human,” he said. They were the only two left in the gym at 12 P.M. The older man left during the middle of their session. Obanai reached out to touch her bare shoulder, wishing to give her some comfort. He never initiated physical contact. Her skin was moist from sweat, but smooth. Slowly, she tilted her head to where his hand touched her shoulder with tears in her eyes. They were shifting from white to red. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled weakly, not looking him in the eye. “I cry a lot and easily,” she tried to make it into a joke. 

Obanai frowned. He wanted to pull her into him and hold her, but he feared if she grabbed a hold of him. In the past, women have tried to hug him and he pushed them away without thinking. Any woman he had sex with he pinned against the wall telling her not to touch him. His therapist said it was a severe automatic reaction to his abuse. He had an aversion to women touching him. Obanai brushed aside the fact he had allowed Mitsuri to brush and hold his hand for the briefest of moments. He was not willing to risk pushing her away in her fragile state. 

He squeezed her shoulder. It was the most he could offer her and he hated himself for it. She opened her mouth, her bottom lip trembling. Her eyes found him and they held each other’s gaze. He was at a loss of words. Mitsuri looked so vulnerable in this state, tears running down her cheeks for him. For his scars. He felt a pull on his heart, something foreign. Her mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out, only a choking noise as more tears fell. Her eyes were becoming puffy.  

“Never apologize for being yourself, Mitsuri,” he whispered. 

“T-thank you,” she murmured. The pink haired girl looked down at his mask and then back at his face. “You don’t have to wear a mask around me. Scars never bothered me,” she said, trying to be brave for his sake. 

He shook his head. Obanai wanted to believe her, but fear held him back from showing her his face. That was not something he would be able to handle if she winced or looked at him as others did. Let him live in this dream for a moment longer with her. His family could drag him down to Hell later. 

“Not now,” he said, setting a boundary between them. She leaned her head over his hand on her shoulder. His eyes widened a fraction, not expecting this gentle touch. Goosebumps trailed up his arm, under his long sleeved shirt. Her cheeks were soft to the touch on the back of his hand. Dark lashes casted shadows over her features. In this light, he could see the light sparkle from makeup on her face. 

“Is this okay?” Mitsuri asked. He nodded, his jaw tightened fighting between wanting to flee and to touch more of her. He felt his other finger twitch. He would only allow himself to touch a small part of her. A creature like him didn’t deserve to touch this heavenly maiden. 

You’re not scum. He heard Dr. Ubuyashiki’s voice in head. With Mitsuri looking at him with her large eyes, he almost believed it. She had no idea what hid behind the mask. A lowly demon, angry and self loathing. 

She wouldn’t let you touch her if she didn’t want to be comforted. He reasoned with himself. 

“Thank you, Obanai,” Mitsuri said, he could feel the vibrations of her throat against his hand. He swallowed nervously, “You’re welcome.” Mitsuri lifted her head away from her shoulder and him.

“Do you want to walk around for a bit to cool down?” She rubbed the last of her tears away. Obanai found himself nodding. If he got to spend more time with her he would do just about anything. He took his hand from her shoulder.

“I have to go grab my stuff from the locker,” he said as he turned away from her. 

“I’ll wait for you,” she said. He hated the way his stomach fluttered at her words just like it had when she had called him a friend or said she wanted to see him. He ducked into the locker room and took his duffle bag out of a locker. When he walked back out, she had just finished wiping down the equipment they used with disinfectant. He could have swore she was singing the clean up song before he cleared his throat. 

“Ready?” Obanai asked, adjusting the strap on his bag. Mitsuri turned and nodded before heading towards the exit with him. She matched his stride, ensuring they were side by side. 

The summer night was still warm, but manageable with a light breeze. At this time, there was no else on the street as they walked towards the bridge. They were quiet, simply enjoying one another’s company. He was aware of her every move and when she was looking at his face. 

“You’re wondering how I got my scars, aren't you?” He questioned, glancing at her with his teal eye, the one that could see correctly. She nodded, “Only if you want to.” Mitsuri held her hands together, fiddling with them. 

“I don’t want to make you cry again,” he admitted. He told his family and his closer friends about the incident that led to them after years of knowing them. He saw her frown, her bottom lip pulled down. “Another time,” he promised her, which made her face turn neutral. 

“That’s fair,” she laughed lightly, one of her hands rubbing her eyes. “Is there anything you’ve been wondering about me?”

In truth, he wanted to know everything about her. The way she drank her coffee, the furthest place she’s been outside her hometown, her opinion on pineapple on pizza, and her dreams for the future. Although he was most curious about her ex, like himself he doubted she wanted to divulge any more information about him. Especially after she said he called her too masculine. His nostrils flared for a second thinking of a person being rude to Mitsuri. 

She stopped walking when they reached the bridge and put both forearms over the railing to watch the Yoda River flowing from the Biwa Lake, north of the city. The moonlight complemented her skin tone, porcelain white, offset by her pink bun. He paused and stood beside her, turning his head towards her. 

“What is your favorite meal to make?” He asked. 

“I don’t cook as much as I bake, but if I had to pick…” She tapped one finger on her chin.  “Omurice. Whenever I was sick, my parents would make it and it became a comfort food. Or sakura mochi. There was a restaurant in my hometown that had the best. I tried making it, but it wasn’t the same as theirs. Do you have any experience making it?” 

“No, not sakura mochi. I don’t particularly enjoy sweets or making them,” he replied. 

“Why did you become a chef?” She asked, her light green eyes drifting down to the river. 

“When the Rengokus adopted me, they lived off of take out convenience store meals. Kyojuro can't cook to save his life. It made me sick smelling the oils and grease. I asked Shinjuro to take me to the store, so I could cook for them. I learned I enjoyed cooking. I like learning new ways and techniques to add spice and flavor to food. Plus, my new family was excited to eat whatever I made. It made them happy and in return I felt better about myself like I could do something good,” he said following his own stream of consciousness. He scratched the back of his head. Mitsuri watched him now, a smile gracing her heart shaped face as he spoke. She nodded and that was enough to have him continue talking. 

“I ended up getting a busing job at a restaurant in high school. I thrived in the stressful environment being quick on my feet. The head chef took me aside one of my first days and taught me how to do a julienne cut. One thing led to another and I ended up applying to culinary school. When I graduated, I started out as a line cook at Nichirin and made my way up to sous chef,” he explained. 

“You seem quite passionate about it. Do you like your job?” Mitsuri propped her head on her hand. The way she tilted her head towards him made him feel tingly and his heart fluttered. Her neck was exposed to him. 

“Most days. Today was not one of those days considering the two guys didn’t show up and gave no explanation. If they do it one more time I’m firing them,” Obanai sighed. They were standing centimeters apart and if he were a different man he would close the distance. 

“I wouldn’t have the nerve to do that,” Mitsuri commented. 

“If they made you angry enough you would be happy to do it,” he replied. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever really gotten mad at someone and lashed out at them.” She looked past Obanai for a second and then back at him. “Do you have a dream?” She asked suddenly.

He was not sure what to say. Obanai lived day to day, he barely thought of the future. When he thought in future terms it made his anxiety worse, so he tended to avoid thinking about it. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure how to respond. She waited for him, letting the quiet draw out longer than necessary. His palms were sweating.

“I don’t,” he confessed. She reached for his hand slowly and held it in her’s loosely. He allowed her to take it. Her touch shutting out the anxious thoughts.

“It’s okay,” she said. She yawned and pulled him away from the railing. “I think it’s time for me to head home.” Mitsuri kept hold of his hand as they made their way back to her car. Despite his thoughts telling him to drop her hand and push her away he fought them. Let him enjoy her in the twilight hours where no one else could disturb his fantasy. When they stood in front of her car, she let go of him.

“I enjoyed this. I know it was spontaneous, but I appreciate you making the time for me. It meant a lot.” She grabbed her keys out of her purse. 

“I just realized I said I was going to make you food the last time I saw you. I am so-” She started to apologize, but he held up his hand. 

“You never need to apologize to me, Mitsuri, at least not for that,” he said reassuringly. He could tell by the way she said sorry so often, that she had some baggage as well. Whether it was her self-esteem or anxiety like him. 

“Rain check then?” She asked. 

“Rain check,” he confirmed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“Send me a list of food you like and I’ll make sure to make it the next time I see you, Obanai.” She made her way to the driver’s side of the Beetle. She put both arms on top of her roof and rested her head on them. She seemed to be waiting for something. 

“I will,” he responded. She stayed where she was. It made him uncomfortable with how she stared at him. 

“Can we do this once a week? Try to meet up I mean.” Her cheeks flushed. His mind went blank, unable to process what she said. Week. Meet up. His cool demeanor lost in an instant due to this woman. All he could do was shake his head up and down, which earned him a genuine smile as her eyes gleamed in the twilight. 

Chapter Text

Early September

When Mitsuri returned home after spending the night with Obanai she realized two things. One: She liked him. Two: He may or may not like her. 

There were multiple times throughout the night she wanted to pull down his mask and kiss him. She adored the way he made time for her even at the late hour. He made her feel seen and worthy. It was easy to talk to him when they found their flow. Even in the silence she had been content standing next to him. His sense of humor matched her’s, complementing each other. She was drawn to him. Obanai had even encouraged her to lift, which she hadn’t done in years because of her ex. She snorted thinking about his first response to her ex berating her.

Fuck him. The words echoed in her mind. She wished she had a friend like Obanai when she was dating her ex… although if that were that case she’d rather be with the choppy dark haired chef. Kanae met Kyo once. She had not been keen on him after Mitsuri blew her off to see him at the beginning of their relationship. She had warned Mitsuri that Kyo seemed controlling, but Mitsuri brushed off her concerns. She wore rose colored glasses. 

She sent Obanai a quick message letting him know she got home safely. Mitsuri locked her front door, deadbolt and chain included. She made her way down the hall to her bedroom. Sushi was lying down in the bed, his front feet tucked under his body. He looked like a loaf of bread. She took a picture of him before placing her phone on the nightstand. She stripped down to nothing and took a quick shower. 

As she brought the soapy luffa to her shoulder, she paused, Obanai touched the same shoulder to comfort her as she teared up about his scars. She could not believe someone or something hurt him. Obanai had looked so unsure as he squeezed her shoulder, uncomfortable with touching her. If anything she should have comforted him. The ghost impression of his hand on her made her shiver. It made her feel like a middle school student, relishing every interaction with her crush. 

When she held hands with him later on, his hand was loose as if he wanted to drop it. She grimaced thinking about it. If he had been more receptive to her touch she would have tried hugging him. He had been noncommittal about hanging out once a week just nodding his head instead of saying anything. She wanted to crawl under her bed and hide. It had been way too presumptuous when they have only met up four times. None of it mattered though, she did not want to date. Mitsuri turned off the hot water and changed into grey shorts and an old t-shirt. 

“I’m just going to date you, Sushi,” she decided as she plopped onto her queen bed and laid back against the spring green and white sheets. Her cat stretched and climbed over her stomach to lay down. Mitsuri scratched his black ears and forced herself to fall asleep. 

By the end of the next week, the pink haired teacher was dragging. Mitsuri sighed as she picked up the last papers off the children’s desks. It had been a long day and it wasn’t even 12 P.M. 

One of the kids attempted to eat glue and another one had gum in their hair because they put it behind their ear to ‘Save it for later’. She took that kid to the nurses’ office to handle it and she had to call the kid’s parents. Absent-mindedly, she blew air out to keep her bangs out of her eyes. She had to get them cut soon. 

As she made her way to her desk, she wondered if she should get a new hair style. Mitsuri kept her hair long with layers and bangs, so she could braid it into two side braids and one braid behind her back. Her mother showed her how she could braid her hair when she was five and the technique of pulling stands in, out, and over each other calmed her mind. It became second nature at night to bind her hair into loose braids. In the morning, when she let them out her hair would have gentle waves. 

Sitting down at her desk, Mitsuri grabbed a pink pen to grade the math tests. For the next hour, the kids would have lunch and recess. She was expected to take her own lunch break, but she hardly ever did with all of the demands of her job. She looked over the first test and marked one wrong answer with a frowny face. The kids seemed to be more receptive to the pink pen than her red one. Her main rule in teaching was to be positive and stay creative. When she finished grading the tests, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. 

Mitsuri leaned over and turned on her computer and looked up the information on the kid’s parents she had to contact. When she called she got voicemail, so she left a brief message explaining their child had gotten him in their hair. Internally, she was glad she didn’t have to talk and get berated by them for not being vigilant enough. Kids were prone to mistakes and needed to make them to learn. There was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” Mitsuri said, expecting a kid to come back early. Some of the children were having attachment issues and liked spending their time her. She would read them a short story in the reading corner of the room. One kid to one bean bag where they felt safe in her presence. Other times they just wanted to have her play with their hair or rub their backs. Instead of a child, a giant walked in.

“Do you mind if I eat lunch here? Someone decided to put macaroni and cheese in the microwave without putting water in it. Now it smells like smoke,” Gyomei explained.

“Oh, of course, Gyomei.” She looked down at the lunch box he held. “Let me show you to my desk, one second. A lot of the kids didn’t push in their chairs.” She stood up and started pushing in the chairs preventing Gyomei from getting to her. 

“There you go. Do you want me to lead you or…?” She let the question hang in the air. Gyomei seemed very perceptive despite his inability to see. He had dodged her several times in the last month. She found herself running behind schedule and tried to make up for it by running and almost barreling into her coworker. 

“No need.” Gyomei waved her off as he stepped forward with grace to find the chair across from her seat. With his bulk, he nearly dwarfed the chair. He opened up his lunch box and pulled out a take out container. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Nichirin’s label on it. 

“You go to Nichirin?” Mitsuri asked, sitting down in her cushy chair. Their town was big enough that someone could easily miss it with so many other places around. There was only one Nichirin though and with it her crush.

“Yes, it was the first restaurant I went to after I moved here since it was two blocks from my place,” he said, putting his head in prayer position. He whispered a few lines of gratitude before bowing his head. Then Gyomei started his meal. 

“I went for the first time last month,” she started. “Actually when we were in orientation I went there. A friend invited me out.” 

“Oh, what did you try? I’m partial to the salmon with daikon.” He gestured to his lunch. It smelled delicious and Mitsuri felt her mouth water. She should go back to Nichirin with Obanai unless that was taboo to visit as a customer. She was not sure what the etiquette was or if he would want to go to his own workplace for lunch or dinner. 

“I had miso ramen and tonkatsu when I went. It was the best thing I ever tasted, honestly. I’ll be right back with my lunch.” She left her desk and stole into the staff room down the hallway. The walls were decorated with fall themed holidays with yellow, orange, and red leaves plastered all over. 

When she walked into the staff room she held her breath to not breathe in the burnt smell. Mitsuri grabbed her lunch from the fridge. Luckily she didn’t need to warm up her cold sandwiches, carrots, and potato chips. She went back to her room and set up lunch across from the second grade teacher. 

“My friend actually works at Nichirin. In the kitchen, so you probably didn’t see him.” Mitsuri realized her mistake two seconds later as Gyomei’s pupil less eyes turned in her direction. 

“I’ve never seen anyone that works there or here for that matter,” he said point blank. His face looked stern and Mitsuri felt so guilty. 

“I am so so sorry. Sometimes I don’t think when I talk. I didn’t mean-“ she felt her voice shaking. She hadn’t made friends with any of the other teachers yet. Please don’t start the year by making an enemy. She could not have them call her an ableist.

“I don’t see why you’d apologize… or see in general.” He broke into a smile. He took another bite of his salmon. She snorted at his joke, thankful for his easy going nature. 

“A lot of people do the same thing. They’re phrases people commonly use and you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not offended easily, Miss Kanroji.” Gyomei waved off her guilty feelings. “Yeah, I actually met one of the chefs, Obanai. I have allergies to certain spices, so he personally makes my dishes because, ‘My line cooks would mess it up once and you’d have to use an epipen’.” He gave his best imitation of Obanai’s irritated voice. 

She kicked her feet in the air, elated to hear Obanai accommodating for Gyomei. “Obanai is the friend who invited me there,” her voice became more animated. “He and I are part of the same wedding party, so we’ve been seeing each other. We should go there together to surprise him. I’m sure he’d love it.”

“You two are dating? Congratulations,” Gyomei said. “He seems like an earnest guy.”

She was at a loss for words and felt her face burning red. ‘Seeing each other’ did sound like they were dating. She shook her hands in front of her even though he could not see them. 

“We’re not dating. We’re just friends,” she said quickly and nervously, which made him raise an eyebrow. She was also trying to convince herself of the same concept. “He’s very kind and cute, but um- I don’t think he sees me like that. I’m too weird and nervous for someone like him. He probably likes cool, dark, and mysterious women or men. I don’t know his preference,” she rambled. She covered her face with her hands thinking she sounded like an idiot. She ran her hands down her face, ashamed of herself. “Plus, Kanae and Sanemi said something about him not dating much.” 

Gyomei apologized for the misunderstanding and moved onto a different topic. They spent the rest of their break sharing stories about their cats. He had three cats at his apartment named Mei, Hana, and Tai. He found them sick and alone in a box on the street by his previous townhome and nursed them back to health. He’s had them for four years now. The five minute warning bell sounded and Gyomei made his way back to his classroom. 

The entire break she hadn’t checked her phone once. She took her cell phone out of her desk drawer and smiled seeing Obanai’s name pop up on her screen. 

Iguro Obanai: Sunomono with Tororo Kombu.

Kanroji Mitsuri: What…?

Iguro Obanai: It’s my favorite food. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: OH! I thought you were texting a coworker or something with an order 😂I think my dad has a recipe. He doesn’t have your skill, but I think it’s pretty good

Iguro Obanai: I look forward to whatever you make.

Kanroji Mitsuri: Are you going over to Sanemi and Kanae’s this Saturday? 

Three dots appeared on the screen and then disappeared two times. 

Iguro Obanai: What for?

Kanroji Mitsuri: They’re going to ask Kyojuro to be their officiant while playing board games.

Iguro Obanai: … Sanemi asked, but he didn’t explain why or respond the other day. I’ll be able to come.  

Kanroji Mitsuri: Yay! 😀Sometimes they get into fights and it’s super uncomfortable. At least I won’t be uncomfortable alone. 

Iguro Obanai: Kyojuro will be there and besides I love listening to them fight.

Kanroji Mitsuri: Why?!? If you love someone you shouldn’t be fighting so often

Iguro Obanai: I was joking. Their fights are mostly small jabs and how they show affection. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: 🫤I don’t like seeing people fight each other, especially when they love each other like them

Iguro Obanai: If they fight, we’ll leave and eat Sunomono with Tororo Kombu next to the river. Deal? 

Kanroji Mitsuri: Deal. 

Iguro Obanai: Plus didn’t you say we might have to be witnesses in court if Kanae murders Sanemi? 

Mitsuri laughed out loud remembering her dark humored comment she made at the wedding venue. She liked that he recalled what she said. He listened to her. She felt her temperature rising. Wasn’t it a sign that a guy likes you if he remembered what you said? No, he was probably just remembering because it was a good joke.

Kanroji Mitsuri: Are you suggesting we’d have plausible deniability? 

Iguro Obanai: I can neither confirm nor deny this. 

Mitsuri was preening and pulling back stray hairs from her face in her rearview mirror. After she got her hair trimmed, it always seemed to lay differently than her norm. She was wearing a navy blue short sleeved romper with sandals. She did not want to go into the engaged couple’s house alone and was wasting her time. 

Glancing at her passenger seat, she noted the glass container full of cucumber salad and vinegar soaked kelp. She prepared it for Obanai last night with her father’s assistance. He had been curious about her new friend, but did not pry. She loved him so much for not trying to embarrass her. Also she finalized plans with her parents and potentially her sister and her baby to visit at the beginning of November. 

In her rearview mirror, she saw a white Jeep park across the street from Sanemi’s house. She touched her fingers to her lip as she watched him. From her spot, she saw Obanai adjust his mask on the left side, pulling the fabric to better cover his scars. For a second, she thought she saw a fine white line peeking out of his mask. He had told her his scars were grotesque. Mitsuri could not imagine Obanai’s face as grotesque. She worried what had happened for him to get them. He said she would cry if she heard, so it must have been traumatic. The scars would not scare her off if that’s what he was wondering about. She was already captivated by him. 

Physical appearance mattered little to her affection for him. His soul was gentle, sincere, and good humored. Besides that, he had a lean, muscular build with startling beautiful eyes and a sharp nose. His shoulder length black choppy hair cut made her want to run her hands through it to determine if it was as soft as it looked. She tried not to jump out of her car then and run straight to Obanai. Mitsuri was thinking like a middle school girl. Instead she grabbed the container of cucumber salad and vinegar soaked kelp as he requested and pushed her door open. She felt his eyes on her immediately as he stepped out of his car. 

“Hey,” he said in greeting. He wore a long sleeved cotton shirt with a band name on it and loose shorts. Obanai walked up to her and she felt like she was vibrating, a mixture of excitement and nerves. 

“Hi, I made you the thing.” She held up the container for him. He took it from her, fingers brushing that left her feeling tingles shoot up her arms. His amber and teal eyes looked down at the container, his eyes seemed to soften more and she could see the veins in his hands become more prominent. 

“You don’t have to eat it now, but can you tell me when you do? I want to know what you think.” She suddenly felt nervous around him. After meeting at the gym, she thought she had gotten over her nervous energy around him, but she could hear her voice rising and rambling. Obanai met her gaze, his features relaxed. His shoulders seemed to lower and become less rigid.

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft and eyes tender. She could melt into oblivion now and be completely happy with the way her life was if she could hear him speak like that again. Mitsuri wished she could wrap herself around him. She wanted him to feel safe around her, to let down his guard, to give him a small sanctuary in this unforgiving world. 

“Did you cut your hair? It looks nice,” he asked, his amber and teal eyes analyzing her face and hair. Her fingers twisted a piece of it. She opened her mouth to answer, but instead heard the booming voice of Kyojuro. Her head turned towards the firefighter. 

“Obanai! Mitsuri!” The tall man called from his red Honda Civic. He parked in the driveway beside Sanemi’s forest green Mazda CX-5. He waved his hand over his head. Her brief time with Obanai gone with his entry. She tried not to be upset because Kyojuro was a friend and a kind person. 

She heard Obanai walk away from her. When she looked back, Obanai was opening his car door and putting the food she made him onto the seat. Mitsuri tried not to be disappointed as she noticed his eyes seemed to narrow, losing his relaxed appearance from a minute ago. The moment they shared was lost to the wind. She tried not to frown as she waved back at Kyojuro. She brought her hands together and started to walk towards the front door where Kyojuro was veering to. 

“You look rather cute today, are you going on a date later?” Kyojuro said as he grinned and looked between her and Obanai. Her cheeks flushed. Mitsuri started waving her hands and shaking her head. 

“No, nada, nope, not a date. I’m not dating right now,” she said hurriedly, not wanting this type of attention. 

“Apologies then,” he said loudly. Obanai appeared at her side as they started up the steps.

“You don’t need a date to look nice,” the black haired man said in a cold voice, looking up at Kyojuro. He was a head taller than Obanai. 

Kyojuro tilted his head at Obanai’s reaction. “I was only teasing. Mitsuri is adorable all the time.” 

“Thanks.” She scratched her neck, sparing a look at the man beside her. If she were to go on a date it would be with him. They were only friends. He showed no indication of liking her, unfortunately. Besides, she was not ready to date, she reminded herself. It might as well be a broken record. 

Kyojuro’s red-yellow eyes glanced between the two and walked up the stairs ahead of them. She and Obanai followed him up with their hands centimeters apart. She had to stop herself from grabbing his hand. Physical touch was her love language for romantic and platonic relationships. It was only natural for her to seek out his affections. Last Saturday, she held hands with him in the twilight, but in the light of day her bravery failed her. 

Mitsuri looked ahead trying to avoid eye contact with Obanai. She knew she was easy to read. Her face had to be bright red after Kyojuro embarrassed her. 

She was the sun. Her warmth, kindness and openness were all encompassing. He wanted to pick her up and take her away from here, so she would only shine for him. It was unhealthy to want to spend so much time with her. He could not help it. Mitsuri drew him in from the sound of her voice, the constant blush on her cheeks, and authentic smile. 

He wanted to wrap himself around her and never let her go. Obanai had never felt this way. It terrified him. He wanted to spend every second he could with her. He didn’t deserve her attention or tears. 

The moment he told her about his scars replayed in his mind every day. He played out different scenarios. In some he found the courage to take off his mask and she would accept every imperfection. He would let her touch his face as they leaned in towards each other. Her blush would deepen when his thumb ran over her cheek, her eyes closing in anticipation for a kiss. 

She would never allow it. He would never allow it. Not with his tainted blood. All the therapy in the world couldn’t change the fact his mother and biological family were monsters and he was the same as them. At night Obanai still felt their slimy hands  pulling at his skin and clothes, anything they could hold onto him in order to pull him down. Nails that ripped into his skin. 

Cognitive behavioral therapy asked him to challenge his thoughts and feelings about his family. He knew what he should do, but he slipped on each step. His recovery was a slow crawl at best. 

In other scenarios, she screamed and ran away unable to look at him. Crying out for help. Or she laughed in his face and asked why he thought she would care about his scars when she didn’t even like him. He would not be able to handle her rejection. Except she had been the one to ask if he wanted to hang out at night. Friends did that. Just friends he had to remind himself. 

Last weekend she suggested they meet once a week. He could not fathom why. Was she so desperate for a friend? She was still new to the area, so he doubted she had many opportunities to make friends. He also had failed to set any plans with her, fearing she’d say no. He was pathetic. 

Anytime he opened their messages he couldn’t figure out a way to ask her to hang out. He did not want her to come to his house and he did not want to go to her home. It seemed like an invasion of privacy. He could have asked her to go to the gym again, but he talked himself out of it every single time. He feared her rejection.

When he saw her holding his favorite meal in her hands, his heart pounded. He didn’t think she would actually do it so soon or ever. The other shoe had to drop and he would rather it drop now instead of later after he was enraptured by her very essence. Obanai kept waiting for her to realize what a disgusting bastard he was and run away. He would not blame her. Except she had not and even leaned further into him. 

Before Kyojuro interrupted them, he had found the courage to compliment her, to her face this time. Quietly, he put the vinegar kelp in his car. He might have slammed the door demonstrating his anger. Mitsuri and Kyojuro did not seem to notice though. His temper flared when Kyojuro asked if she was going on a date. It was none of Kyojuro’s business, nor did she have to share. She owed them no explanation. 

She was quick to deny it and Obanai was quick to snap at his brother for making her feel embarrassed. As they walked up the stairs, he calmed himself. Kyojuro meant nothing by it. He was being friendly and meant no harm. Kyojuro had always been open, loud, and good natured. It was just the way he was, Obanai reminded himself.

Kyojuro opened the front door. Sanemi and Kanae expected them. Kanae was in the kitchen and Sanemi was setting out a pile of board games on the dining room table. Settlers of Catan, Cards against Humanity, and Ticket to Ride were among them. He saw Mitsuri flee from his side and head into the kitchen. He watched her go without saying anything before turning back to his brother and best friend. Kyojuro grabbed hold of Sanemi and hugged him in greeting.

“How have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the party,” Sanemi asked.

“Great! I’ve been working mostly.” Kyojuro pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m going to a play next week with some of my co-workers. Have you ever seen Aoi no Ue?”  

Sanemi took a seat next to him and Obanai next to Kyojuro. They discussed his brother’s love of noh plays and differences between noh and kabuki. Kyojuro preferred noh plays due to the mythical references and spiritual questions they posed. 

Obanai felt at ease listening to his best friend and sibling talk about the merits of masks in the plays and how they differed from each other. He felt like he was in high school again. 

“I had to sit through you hogging the television for noh plays nearly every night for a year before Shinjuro disallowed them.” Obanai pointed his finger at the yellow haired man with red tips who smirked. 

“Wait, is that why Shinjuro banned you from watching television that summer?” Sanemi laughed. He squinted his eyes as the afternoon sun’s rays shone through the blinds. 

“Yes. Shinjuro was tired of Kyojuro dancing around the house like a ghost and asking deep questions past 10 o’clock. Everyone was including Senjuro, but he was too shy to say anything,” Obanai explained, turning his head to look at his friend. Kyojuro laughed, the sound resonating throughout the house. 

“If you hated it so much, why did you sit with me for every play?” Kyojuro asked. 

“You acted like a kicked puppy if I told you no,” Obanai responded. Truthfully, Obanai was partial to the costumes, characters, and the embodiment of each play posing a philosophical question. He had hardly been allowed to watch television when he lived with his biological family. He would have watched anything and been amazed when he was 15. 

“Not possible.” The flame haired man looked affronted. “I would never stoop to such a childish level.”

“What are we talking about?” Kanae asked as she stepped into the dining room holding two bowls of snacks. Mitsuri followed behind her with cups and a pitcher of iced tea. She placed the cups in front of the men before sitting down across from him. Mitsuri put a straw into Obanai’s cup. Kanae must have told her about his drinking habits. He reached for the pitcher. 

“Kyojuro’s lack of self control and obsessive behaviors,” Obanai responded as he poured the amber liquid into his and Kyojuro’s cups and then put it back in its place. His brother was eating the chips from the bowl and loudly said, "Tasty.” Every few bites. 

“Ah, the best type of game night conversation,” Kanae said sarcastically as she sat down next to Sanemi. They held hands on top of the table. 

“One of us had to be energetic and extroverted, Obi,” Kyojuro said confidently. Obanai pinched his brow hearing his childhood nickname. He glanced across the table at Mitsuri. She was smiling as she looked at Kyojuro. 

“Don’t call me that, Flame Boy.” Obanai jabbed Kyojuro’s shoulder. 

“Why must you be so cruel, Brother?” Kyojuro held his hand to his chest, feigning his pain. “Must you remind me of my shame?”

“What shame?” Obanai retorted. 

“Who’s Flame Boy?” Mitsuri asked. Before Obanai could explain, Kyojuro chimed in with his booming voice setting the stage for his middle school persona.

“Flame Boy was the hero in a time when there were none. He fought demons, gods, and villains alike. He stood for justice, hope, and peace. His heart was pure and his mind sharp as a blade,” he paused for the effect. “The sword he used burst into flames to fight evil, banishing them from the mortal realm. People admired him and his motto was-”

“Set your heart ablaze, he told the commoners. He wore a white haori with flame trimmed sleeves and hems,” Obanai said to steal his brother’s thunder. Mitsuri snorted and he smiled at her. She pursed her lips trying to contain her laughter. “He was a prince of the people and a slayer of demons.”

“You remember!” Kyojuro turned in his chair and pulled Obanai into a hug. Obanai started to push him away, but ended up being crushed into Kyojuro’s chest. The force of Kyojuro’s movement made his mask crooked. His hands shot up to cover his cheeks to make sure Kanae and Mitsuri did not see his scars. He coughed as the taller man held him tighter. Obanai went limp, accepting Kyojuro’s brashness and excitement. 

“Apologies!” Kyojuro said and released him. When Kyojuro was in the room, he stole everyone’s attention, luckily. Obanai bent his head forward, allowing his long hair to form a curtain around his face so he could adjust the paper mask. Damn Kyojuro for messing with it. 

“Shall we get started?” He heard the pink haired woman speak up looking around the table. “What do we want to play? The last time I played Catan it nearly wrecked my relationship with my sisters,” she added.

Obanai wondered how Mitsuri had played to wreck her sisters’ relationships. Had she been the instigator or the victim? Her personality seemed to be the latter.

“Catan,” Kyojuro decided, grabbing the box and placing the others aside. No one disagreed with the choice. 

They set up the board, placing the robber in the center. The game took an hour and Mitsuri won. She hoarded wood and ore disallowing people from building settlements and cities. Obanai also may have tried to protect her settlements and roads from the other three without being too obvious. 

“I’ve played this way too many times with my siblings to not learn how to play well.” Mitsuri grinned at Sanemi who was fuming. He had decided to try to win by building the longest road, but failed as that was Mitsuri also. 

“Fuck, this is bullshit. I should have won. Mitsuri, you’re fired as Maid of Honor,” Sanemi said as he ran his hand through his hair, staring at the board to figure out where he had gone wrong. Kanae glared at him. Sanemi acted as a sore loser with any game they played. It was the norm for their group, but not for her. Obanai’s eyes narrowed on his best friend.

“She won fairly. Don’t blame her for your plan going astray,” Obanai said, his voice chilling. Let him take his anger out on Obanai, not her. Never her. He knew most of Sanemi’s anger came from a fear of failure on the micro and macro scale. Sanemi pulled back his lip ready to insult the shorter man. For all his good traits, Sanemi was quick to anger and reactive. 

“Sanemi,” Kanae cautioned him. His eyes snapped up to her abruptly calming his irritation. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re smarter than I thought,” he added as a means of an apology. His posture was still rigid, but Kanae could quell his moods like a potter with clay. Kanae was rubbing his shoulder to comfort the loser. 

“I’m sure you will win next time,” Mitsuri said encouragingly. She put the cards back in the box. No doubt she had experience meditating situations with children losing games and reacting poorly.

“Fantastic job, Mitsuri. You make a fine adversary,” Kyojuro praised her and gave a small bow of his head in honor. She laughed lightly at his theatrical antics, her green eyes flashing as they watched Kyojuro. 

Obanai felt a sliver of envy. It was unwarranted. Obanai had no claim or right to feel envious of Mitsuri’s attention. He had barely gotten past believing he even deserved her time before last weekend. Although he should not have been surprised with Mitsuri admiring Kyojuro. He was tall, handsome, bright, and shined as brilliantly as her. His brother was exceptionally kind and would give the clothes on his back to anyone. A better man than Obanai by far. 

“Well, I think it’s time we ask.” Kanae was holding Sanemi’s hand. “Will you, Rengoku Kyojuro, be our wedding officiant?” The man in question slammed both of his hands on the table.

“Yes,” he practically yelled. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life! I will make sure this is the tastiest wedding there ever was.”

Obanai shook his head when he said ‘tastiest’ to describe a wedding. Of course he would say that when accepting. The other option was Kyojuro admitted he was a cannibal, which seemed rather unlikely. 

He took his drink and sipped it through the straw making sure his mask covered his scars. He glanced over at Mitsuri, however she was absorbed in the conversation between the couple and Kyojuro. Her head turned away from him. From this angle, he could see she added more layers to her hair. It was pretty.

“What type of ceremony do you want? Long and emotional or short and simple?” Kyojuro started firing off questions. 

“I think the ceremony itself should be twenty to thirty minutes. We want to write our own vows and mine may be long,” Kanae confessed. “Knowing Sanemi he will cut to the chase.” She laughed.

“You’re not wrong. I love you, Kanae, what else is there to say?” He squeezed her hand. Mitsuri awed at their interaction. Obanai wished he could do the same for her. Offer her something more than friendship. If it wasn’t for his twisted upbringing, he could. If he had been born into the Rengoku family or any other family he could. His mouth tasted bitter, resenting fate.

Damnit. Under the table he grabbed his thigh to contain the thoughts of self loathing. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to focus on his breathing. She never should have hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt yourself. He imagined Mitsuri’s crying again and he didn’t want to be the reason for her tears. Slowly, he unclenched his hand, the tension easing.

“Who knew Sanemi was such a romantic?” Mitsuri asked. She held her hand up to her pink lips in thought admiring the two. There was more conversation about the primary thoughts they had for the vows and if they wanted to add anything specific. Kanae mentioned wanting to add a quote from a book but she’d have to look over some. 

Eventually, Mitsuri said she had to leave to go feed Captain Sushi. She had already stayed an hour later than she planned. Obanai stood from his seat and told her he would walk her out. He would be leaving soon too. He put his hands in his pockets and stood by the front door as she hugged Kanae, Sanemi, and Kyojuro goodbye. He just waved. 

They walked down the stairs. The sun was beginning to set. Rays of sunlight reflecting in her green eyes. They stood next to her Beetle to say their farewell. 

“I forgot to tell you, we have a friend in common. Gyomei mentioned you cook for him at the restaurant. It’s very thoughtful of you,” Mitsuri said.

“I’m just doing my job. The others would fuck it up and I’d have to clean up the mess,” Obanai said. “How do you know him?”

“We teach at the same school. It’s his first year teaching here as well. It’s a small world.” She smiled at him. “Almost like serendipity?”

“Something like that.” He fiddled with the keys in his pockets. Mitsuri looked down at the ground and then back at him. 

“Would it be alright if I hugged you?” Mitsuri asked shyly. She played with a loose strand of bubble gum pink hair. “When Kyojuro hugged you earlier you were trying to push him away. I get it if you don’t like physical contact or don’t feel comfortable. My family is full of huggers and I’m one as well.”

She brought her hands to her face and pursed her mouth. He licked his lips, feeling nervous again. He could feel his armpits starting to sweat, but he found himself nodding. It was difficult to voice his wants even though she was willing. 

At his last session, Dr. Ubuyashiki suggested he initiate physical contact after he touched her shoulder. It was a way to get closer to people and Obanai had a tendency to push others away. He took his hands out of his pockets. 

He pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her upper back. Her arms circled around his mid back. In the back of his mind, his anxiety screamed at him to shove her away and run away, but she felt right. There was no other way to describe it. The way her head rested between his neck and shoulder placing a light pressure. It was nice. Her hair tickled his nose and her chest pressed against him. He did not feel constrained or as uncomfortable as he thought he would. She made him feel safe and he craved her in any shape, form, or being. Sakura and vanilla melding together as he breathed in her scent. He tightened his hold on her, savoring her body next to his, selfishly enjoying her presence and affection. He felt normal to be hugging her. 

Her kindness is infinite…. He thought. A moment of deja vu hit him. He was holding Mitsuri, but the smell of iron and blood surrounded them. He felt sick, nausea crashing into him. His chest was being squeezed. Though he could not see anything as if he was blind. His breathing hitched. Bile rose in his throat and he had to force it back down. 

Terror filled him and he let go of Mitsuri, afraid to touch her again. Obanai stepped away from her wishing he could run. He had not pushed her away. He’d let himself indulge and he would only end up hurting her intentionally or not. His blood was stained by his family and he would only stain her by association if he let himself slip. When she looked at him, her face was pink all over.

“Thanks, Obanai. You give great hugs!” Mitsuri said. “I should get going.” She stood there, shifting her feet, waiting for him to speak. He stared past her face, catching glimpses of her features. If he looked directly at her, she would see the panic clearly written on his face. 

“I’ll see you,” he said stiffly, trying to maintain his composure. He bit the inside of his mouth, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to keep himself from puking. For a split second he saw her brows lower and the corners of her lips frown. It must have been a figment of his imagination because the next moment her eyes seemed to be shining and her smile as wide as ever. He waved politely. 

“See you,” she said loudly before opening her door and settling into the driver’s seat. He watched her go down the road in her Beetle. 

When her car was out of view he walked over to his Jeep. Obanai put one hand on the hood for support. His mouth felt rancid from holding down bile. His body was viscerally reacting to having hugged her. 

His nervous system had gone into overdrive, remembering his childhood. Women who were supposed to care for him spilled his blood. Taking pleasure in his pain. Treating him like a punching bag. All five of them hit him, kicking him, telling him he was worthless. 

Curse this body. It had betrayed him. He wanted to slam his fist into his car, angered by himself, his body, and past. It had felt normal hugging her until his memories surfaced. The scent of blood sickened him and the emotions associated with them. He just wanted to be normal. 

Come here, Baby. He heard his mother whisper her voice sickeningly sweet. No, she wasn’t here. She never should have hurt him. He closed his eyes. Tears threatened to pour. Dark brown eyes taunted him inside a dark room with one candle lit. Shadows on the walls. You should eat more, sweetie. The smell of greasy, rotten food filled his nostrils. She tried to force the fried food down his throat and then called him ungrateful for her efforts. The food was left inside his bedroom for days, festering.  

“Breathe, Obanai,” he whispered to himself. He pulled down his mask under his chin. He was hyperventilating, his breaths uneven and shaky. He couldn’t get enough air even with his fucking mask off. 

“Obanai,” Kyojuro called out. Obanai kept his head down, unable to respond to his brother. He could hear his footsteps quicken. “Obanai?” He asked, concern rising. His brother was standing in front of him now. He leaned down to have Obanai face him. 

“You’re having a panic attack, Brother,” Kyojuro said calmly. “Look at me.” Obanai opened his eyes. Red and yellow eyes met his bewildered ones. “Good, let’s take a seat.” Obanai allowed Kyojuro to help him sit on the curb beside his Jeep. Obanai gripped Kyojuro’s upper arm, finding a small comfort in familiarity. The rest of his body tensed. 

Kyojuro had seen his panic attacks and helped him through several. They were few and far between, but the first year he lived with the Rengoku’s they were a weekly occurrence. Obanai was sucking in air, short of breath and unable to speak. 

“You’re safe,” Kyojuro said. “You’re safe,” he repeated. “This will pass soon and we’ll talk it through.”

Obanai tried to slow his breathing by counting out the length of his inhales and exhales. It worked one second and the next he heard his mother’s voice, Baby, your father would be so proud. Her engagement ring was imprinted on his face. 

Damn it all. He squeezed Kyojuro’s arm harder. Kyojuro simply smiled.

“Breathe, Obi,” Kyojuro said. The use of his nickname broke through his memories and his heart started to slow. His breaths evened out.

“Good job,” Kyojuro encouraged his brother, his usual enthusiasm forgotten in favor of a plain tone. Obanai took his hand away from his arm. He put both hands on his knees. They sat there for a few minutes letting Obanai recover. The sun was set by now. No doubt Kanae and Sanemi were bound to wonder why Kyojuro and Obanai’s cars were still outside. 

“Do you want to talk about it now or later?” Kyojuro asked. “You know I’m always here.” 

Obanai was tempted to get into his car and leave. Instead he sighed. Without the mask he could feel the summer air touching his face. Kyojuro glanced down at the scars. He had seen them countless times having known him for fifteen years. Obanai ran his hands through his hair, trying to tease the tension away. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a panic attack,” Kyojuro commented. “The last one I can recall is two years ago after you saw a car accident where the car was on fire while I was driving us to dad’s house.” Kyojuro’s hand was under his head. 

Obanai nodded and coughed to clear his throat, “I remember.” He looked down at the ground. “This will probably sound like nothing to you,” he criticized himself. “Just now after Mitsuri left, I had a vision of my mother, her voice ringing in my head, and the old basement room she kept me in.” His leg bounced on the pavement as he spoke. 

“I hate to ask, but did Mitsuri do anything that could have triggered the memories? She would never intentionally hurt you,” Kyojuro questioned. 

“No. She asked to hug me and I let her.” Kyojuro’s eyes seemed to flash, but said nothing to interrupt his brother. “It was fine until it wasn’t.” Obanai looked away again. 

“Ah, I would not call that nothing. That is a step in the right direction, allowing a woman to touch you would have been groundbreaking. At least in the light of day.” Kyojuro knew about Obanai’s past experiences where he did not allow the women to touch him and all of those encounters were in the shadows, too dark for them to see the hideous marks on his face. 

“She left before I broke. Some days, I am doing so well and then shit like this happens.” Obanai was frustrated with himself. His fist tightened until he could barely feel his hand.

“You’ve come a long way since the day I met you. You hid under the bed for a week when dad brought you home. I would sit on the ground waiting for you to come out. I talked continuously and you didn’t say anything that entire week. At the end of the week, you crawled out and told me to shut up,” Kyojuro chuckled. 

“I don’t know if that was my intent, but it worked. You and dad went to the grocery store the week after because you hated the takeout. You learned how to cook, which made you more confident and a sense of control. A year after your adoption you started going to school. You were combative with most of the other kids and avoided any girls. You would take different routes just to escape them.”

“You didn’t make friends easily. Even your friendship with Sanemi started because of a fight. Except because of that friendship you were exposed to his family and sisters. They were non threatening and helped you tolerate women a bit more. You were less prone to outbursts or breakdowns. In the last three years I’ve noticed you trying to make conversation with Kanae and the women associated with your friends,” Kyojuro explained. His voice was steady and lower than his usual. 

“Today when I saw you speaking with Mitsuri in front of her car I was so proud of you. I was even prouder when you defended her from Sanemi and myself. You’re loyal to those you care for and Mitsuri is no exception. She's a great girl, Obanai, and I’m so glad you’re friends with her." Kyojuro beamed, all his teeth showing. 

“She is,” Obanai agreed. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t want to make his affections known. Kyojuro assessed him.

“You like like her, don’t you?” His brother asked. The term, like like, sounded so elementary and Obanai cringed inwardly. 

“I-“ Obanai was about to deny it, but Kyojuro would see right through him. If he lied, his red and yellow eyes would stare at him unblinking like an owl until he told the truth. “Yes,” he admitted. 

“I knew it,” Kyojuro crossed his arms in front of his chest, satisfied with himself. “Sanemi said you had been messaging the Maid of Honor, but I didn’t realize you were close. Not until I saw the two of you today.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Obanai rubbed his face. He felt drained after today and his panic attack. “I just want to go home.” 

“Okay, but let me know when you're back and I want a call tomorrow morning. If you ever do want to talk about her, I’d be more than happy to listen,” Kyojuro said before standing up. 

“Thanks,” Obanai said. 

“What are brothers for?” Kyojuro asked. “Other than annoying each other.” 

Obanai rolled his eyes, which made Kyojuro laugh. The sun and the shadow back in their places. He stood up and got into his car. He kept the mask off while he drove back home. In his driveway he sent Kyojuro a message saying he was safe. 

When he made it back, he unbuckled himself and his eyes drifted down to his passenger seat where the meal Mitsuri had made him sat. He picked it up, gingerly. He needed to let her know if he liked it, he had promised her he would. 

Obanai kicked off his shoes as soon as he got into his house. He went to the kitchen and found a pair of chopsticks. Opening the container, he smelled the light vinegar. The slices of cucumber were so thin he could almost see through them. She sprinkled toasted sesame seeds over the top, which added a layer of complexity to the simple dish without overpowering the rest of it. 

Iguro Obanai: I tried it. I liked the addition of the toasted sesame seeds.

She responded almost immediately.

Kanroji Mitsuri: Yay! 😊 My dad said I could add it or leave it, but I figured a sophisticated man like you would like it. Add to the flavor profile or something like that. 😆 

Iguro Obanai: ‘The sesame seeds added a sweet and nutty flavor to offset the vinegar and make it less pungent.’

Kanroji Mitsuri: see? You’re sophisticated 👏

Iguro Obanai: Not quite. I’ve read enough food reviews about my food to make up shit. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: OMG! I never even thought about looking those up. If any of them says something bad about you I’ll go full teacher mode. 👩🏫

Iguro Obanai: Teacher mode? 

Kanroji Mitsuri: I’d give them a stern talking to or if they don’t recant their review I’ll give them a pink slip. 😡

Iguro Obanai: Terrifying. I’m glad you’re in my corner then. 

Kanroji Mitsuri: Where else would I be? 

And just like that, he was at a loss of words. 

Chapter Text

Mid September to End of October

Mitsuri: Do you have plans on Friday? 

Obanai looked at his phone screen. It was his birthday on September 15th, this Friday. He was scheduled to work the dinner shift. His adoptive family wanted to see him on Saturday to celebrate. He had already agreed to see them. He despised his birthday. 

It was a reminder he lived another revolution around the sun while his mother and cousins were gone another year. Most birthdays he forced himself to remain too busy to think of anything. It was better than dealing with the overwhelming guilt every birthday brought.

This year he planned to sleep as long as possible before his shift and then throw himself into work. He could focus on the customers and restaurant’s problems instead of his own. By the time he got home he would be too exhausted to think of his birthday or those unable to celebrate their birthday. Obanai winced. 

One of his cousins had survived the fire and she wished him dead. He could not blame her, he had murdered-No, he had been a child. He had been terrified and accidentally set his mother’s house on fire when he escaped, killing those within. There had been no ill intent on his part. That night his bedroom had not been locked. He crept out of his room and then got spooked by a noise and ran out of the house. In his panic he knocked down a candle. He only wanted to escape his tormentors. 

Sixteen years later her abuse and voice lingered interfering with his everyday life. Her voice was quieter now than it had been. He had been actively trying to reconstruct his negative all or nothing type of thinking. It helped no one, especially him. 

Nearly 28, he was content with his life and working to be better. Obanai bought his own house and had a decent job. Most of his coworkers he’s known for years and worked well with. He had never been interested in getting married or having children. His disgusting bloodline would end with him. He was part of the Rengoku family. After Shinjuro took him in, he asked if the boy wanted to share their surname and Obanai rejected. If he took the Rengoku name, he would only disappoint them he reasoned as a child. They were a good family and they were more than enough. He had a small number of friends that had grown by two since the beginning of August. He was content, he told himself. 

Except now he was pining after a girl who would never be his. He tried distancing himself from her after his panic attack. At least physically. He had been texting and talking on the phone with her regularly. She had asked him to go to a movie with her last weekend, but he declined. A dark theater with strangers sounded like a nightmare. Now she was asking again. He would feel guilty telling her no. 

Obanai: I’m working Friday night and then I have plans Saturday morning with my brothers and father

Mitsuri: Dang, would you be able to do anything in the early afternoon? 

His mouth twisted uncomfortably. He was free, but he had meant to sleep through most of his birthday as a means to not think. Except he could see Mitsuri for a short time. It had been a few weeks since they last saw each other. 

Obanai: I could, but don’t you have school?

Mitsuri: Technically yes, but it’s a half day so I get off at 11. Soooo, do you want to hang out with me? 🥺 Please, Oba? 

Obanai rubbed his face. Kaburamaru lowered his head to look at Obanai trying to decipher his friend’s feelings. Yes, he wanted to see her, but he was nervous about having another panic attack if she tried to hug him.

He was going to say no. He could not have a panic attack before work. Maybe it was better this way. If he kept refusing to see her she would have to give up eventually, right? That was not the appropriate response to this, he reasoned. Kaburamaru shifted on his neck and Obanai patted his head. 

“Tell me what to do,” he grumbled as he placed his phone on the couch cushion next to him. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. Kaburamaru slithered down his arm. He draped his white body over his legs.

“I should stay here with you?” He placed his palm over the snake’s body, enjoying the texture of his friend’s scales. Red eyes stared up at him and then the phone. His tongue flicked out once, but his gaze did not leave the phone.

“Are you telling me to go?” Kaburamaru looked back up at him and his fork tongue darted two times. Obanai swore the snake understood him better than he understood himself. One flick for ‘No’, two flicks for ‘Yes’. He grabbed his phone. 

Obanai: What did you have in mind?

Mitsuri: What if I told you it was a secret? I promise you will enjoy it

Obanai: I don’t like surprises. I like to know what to expect. 

Mitsuri: I really want to surprise you. Can I give you a hint instead? If the hint isn’t good I’ll tell you. 

Obanai frowned. He wished he had said ‘No’ now. He needed to know what to expect otherwise he would have issues. He had to be hyper cautious. If he knew what to expect he would be able to mentally prepare. He sighed. 

Mitsuri: …?

Obanai: Tell me the hint and I’ll decide

Mitsuri: 🕷️🕸️🦂🐢🐸🦎🦖♥️

He never understood emojis and she knew it. Her use of them as a clue made him laugh because of how absurd her humor was. 

Mitsuri: Do you know?

Obanai: You know I don’t. 

Mitsuri: :p Should I tell you then? 

He typed out his confirmation, but then deleted it. She had never led him down a wrong path. When his panic attack happened it had nothing to do with what Mitsuri had done. It had to do with his memories surfacing. He would not allow her to hug him again or touch him again. She might be disappointed, but he couldn’t handle it if she saw him have a mental breakdown. 

Fuck it. Despite his better judgment, he decided to take a calculated risk and put his trust in her. Mitsuri would never harm him intentionally. He knew that. She was too good for him. 

Obanai: No. I’ll let you surprise me, but if it’s something I don’t like then we leave

Mitsuri: You’ll like it, I promise. I can pick you up after work. Wear something that you can get dirty. 

Now he wished he had asked exactly what she had planned. 

Mitsuri pulled up in her Beetle to his yellow bungalow. In the middle of September, it was roughly 26.67°C outside and slightly overcast. The leaves were turning. He was sitting on the patio. She got out of her car, she was wearing a pair of olive green overalls over a white shirt. There was red, yellow, and blue paint splatter on her clothes. Her pink hair was separated into three thick braids, two braids on either side of her face and another one running down her back. She was adorable. 

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, her voice cheery. Mitsuri practically skipped up to him as he descended the steps. “I’m so excited.” She bounced on the balls of her feet.

Her excitement made some of his nervousness fall away. The effect her mere presence had on him was ludicrous. With her he felt at ease, or at least as much as he could be given the circumstances. There were no visceral reactions to seeing her after his panic attack. He smiled at her and nodded his head. 

They got into her car and hit the highway. She was chatting about her day. Some of the kids decided to wage a war against the toy dinosaurs and horses in her class. The dinosaurs won after they trampled the horses’ camp. Mitsuri also made sound effects as if the toys were actually battling as she explained the game. Obanai chuckled when she started making pew pew noises because the horses had access to guns and knew how to use them…For some reason.

He liked hearing about her day. It might have been mundane to others, but her light hearted conversation made his anxious thoughts settle. Although, he did have questions about whether or not she should have encouraged the toys having a violent war in the classroom. During the last class of the day, they did an art project with the primary colors, which explained the paint splatter on her overalls. He barely noticed when Mitsuri parked the car. 

“We’re here!” Mitsuri said gleefully. Finally, he turned his head to the left and saw the sign. It read, ‘Mid City Reptile Sanctuary’. He blinked confused. How did she know he liked reptiles? He never mentioned his admiration for the creatures in any conversation. By the time he registered where he was, Mitsuri was opening his car door. 

“How did you-“ Obanai started as his feet touched the ground. 

“Kanae mentioned you had a snake named Kamari? Bura? Shikamaru?” She put her arms behind her back. 

“Kaburamaru,” he corrected her. She nodded and repeated the snake’s name to commit to her memory. 

“So, I figured you would appreciate the reptile sanctuary and I really wanted to take you somewhere you’d like." Her cheeks tinted pink. “You showed me your restaurant and gym so I wanted to show you something new.” She looked between him and the ground. “Do you like it?” Her eyes were shifting, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yes,” Obanai said. Her green eyes sparked to life as they found his amber and teal gaze, all uncertainty vanished. He felt his lips pull back into a grin. Gods, she was everything good in this world. 

“Really?” Her voice seemed to squeak. He nodded in approval. She reached out for his hand, but he instinctively put his hands in his pockets. He tried to make it look like he had not noticed her reaching for him. 

“Shall we go?” He asked. There were not a lot of visitors here. Mitsuri, undeterred by his subtle rejection, nodded and walked beside him through the gates. Obanai spent his 28th birthday with her viewing the different reptiles and amphibians. He would share facts about each species they saw. She listened, nodding at the appropriate times. He told her about the white corn snake, Kaburamaru, and how he found him in a dumpster. 

Shinojuro had not been keen on owning a snake, but gave in when Obanai pleaded to keep him. Kaburamaru did not deserve to be tossed aside because he had the unfortunate lot of being born. The same as Obanai. He did not mention that part to Mitsuri. 

One of the keepers let Mitsuri hold a small boa constrictor much to her excitement. At her request, the keeper took a picture of them where Mitsuri was holding the snake up at her face as she laughed and Obanai stood beside her running a finger over the snake’s tawny scales. His eyes were on Mitsuri, absorbing her warmth and love for new experiences. 

The entire visit he avoided touching her. Even brushing against her shoulder as they walked around the sanctuary. She seemed unbothered. They spent three hours viewing and talking about the animals before Obanai told her they needed to leave otherwise he would be late for his shift. He had to shower and change out of these clothes. 

On the ride back to his house, they listened to metal and punk music, which surprised him. Mitsuri loudly sang the lyrics to a Blink 182 song. Her head bobbed to the instruments, braids flying wildly. He would have expected her to listen to pink pop or indie. Anything happy and bouncy like herself. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted her. It made it all the more frustrating because he could not have her. All that was good in her would be corrupted if he tried. 

When they reached his house, they sat in the driveway. Mitsuri turned off the music and rotated her body to reach for something behind her back seat. It was a container and a small box covered in pink wrapping paper and a white bow. Oh shit, she knew. He had to go now.

“Sooo, Sanemi let it slip that your birthday was today. He wanted me to ignore it because you don’t like to celebrate, but I had to do something.” She placed the box in his lap and the container on the center console. “I made you matcha cookies and got you a small gift.” 

Obanai looked down at the cookies and then the gift box. He picked it up and cut the tape sealing the wrapping paper together, careful not to tear it. The box itself was made of thin cardboard. He opened the top of the box. Inside the item was wrapped in bubble wrap. He peeled that off unveiling a tiny ceramic snake. The white snake was coiled around itself with its head lifted, inquisitively staring at its audience. It sat on a red pillow. 

He turned to look at her. She was watching him, anticipating his response. Obanai opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking, overcome with emotion. Without the words to express his gratitude, he reached for her hand sitting on her right thigh. His thumb ran over her knuckles before squeezing. She squeezed back. 

“You deserve to be celebrated, Obanai,” she said softly, leaning towards him. His gaze shifted between her pink lips and sincere, hopeful eyes. Her vanilla scent flooded his senses. He could feel the tension between them. If he leaned into the tension and her he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing her. More than likely he was imagining things between them.

“T-thank you,” Obanai said quickly. He placed the ceramic snake back into the box and grabbed the cookies. Flustered, he was flustered. “Thank you for today, Mitsuri. You’re a really good friend.” He drew an imaginary boundary between them. “I have to get ready otherwise I’ll have to fire myself.” 

The pinked hair woman laughed lightly. The smile did not reach her eyes though. She turned away from him and stared in front of her. “See you around,” she said, her tone quieter than usual. It had been a long day for her between work and then entertaining him. Mitsuri must be tired. He opened the door and mumbled, “See you later.” 

As soon as he shut the door he walked up to his patio briskly and opened the front door. No. No. No. He leaned back into his front door, shutting it, and slumped to the floor. 

He presented himself with the facts. Mitsuri found out his birthday was today and his adoration for reptiles. She planned a whole outing just for him. He clenched his chest as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. 

Despite the anxiety, he felt warm, tingly, even light. He was not used to it. He heard people describe the feeling as being cherished. Perhaps that’s what he was experiencing after spending the afternoon with Mitsuri. She even baked him matcha cookies without knowing he liked them. Sanemi must have mentioned it. Then she brought a ceramic snake that looked like Kaburamaru. 

Shit. He did not want to like her anymore than he already did. It would be difficult to explain her actions away like he had before. She genuinely cared for him because he was himself. The weird, hypercritical, reptile loving, introvert with extreme social anxiety and she still enjoyed being around him. Mitsuri was special to him. All he could offer was friendship. Obanai would never be able to repay her kindness and generosity. 

After Mitsuri left Obanai’s house, she could feel the trickles of doubt settle in her heart. She drove through the streets trying not to think of what just happened. Sanemi mentioned his birthday last week. He told her to do nothing. She planned to do nothing in order to respect Obanai’s wishes. But she wanted to let him know she appreciated him for everything regardless of whether or not it was his birthday. He declined her invitation to see a movie the weekend before and the only available time she had was this Friday. Mitsuri did not even specifically say, ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, but she did not celebrate his birthday. 

Kanae asked her to start the preliminary searches for a dress before Shinobu and the rest of her family flew into town next month. Mitsuri and Kanae were set to visit two wedding dress boutiques Saturday and Sunday. She had no other day this weekend to see Obanai. 

After a few Google searches for fun events and attractions Mitsuri found the reptile sanctuary. He owned a snake and had rescued it according to Sanemi. He even told her the species and she ordered a ceramic snake off Etsy to replicate his snake. 

Mitsuri knew how it looked and sounded from an outsider's perspective. She was trying too hard for someone she had no idea even liked women. Fiddling with her hair, she was tempted just to ask what type of person he liked. It sounded so elementary. She parked in her driveway and turned off the car. She did not leave the car. 

“You’re a really good friend.” His voice repeated inside her head. She felt her stomach squirm hearing him friendzone her. This was stupid and ridiculous. There was no such thing as the friendzone. It’s not like she declared her feelings for him and he rejected her. It was obvious he didn’t like her the way she liked him…The last few moments in the car she thought he was going to kiss her. She groaned, frustrated by herself for thinking that. It was all wishful thinking. 

“You deserve to be celebrated, Obanai.” Her voice resonated. She leaned her head into the steering wheel, mortified by herself. Who said that? Mitsuri hit her head lightly against the center of the wheel, accidentally setting off the horn. She lifted her head and looked around the neighborhood. No one was around luckily. 

If all Obanai wanted was a friend, she could do that. She would just have to snuff out the embers of affection. That would be easy enough, she tried to convince herself. As simple as snakes growing wings and flying. 

Ever since his birthday, Obanai had made it a point to see Mitsuri once a week. They would go to his gym after he got off of work Friday or Saturday, she would visit Nichirin, or go for a hike. Mitsuri had even been present when a famous food blogger stopped by Nichirin. The owner, the head chef, and himself were going to be featured on his food blog. 

She shared more about her family and hometown. Her devotion to them was clear as day. Her parents and two of her siblings were coming to visit her in November for Fall break. They lived a few hours away and had to coordinate with their two youngest school’s schedules and Mitsuri to make the trip. 

Now they were nearing the end of October. He stood in his kitchen waiting for the mochi to cool down before trying them. The timer went off. He took a bite of the newest batch and was disappointed.

Kaburamaru shifted his position around Obanai’s neck. Obanai glared at the new batch of sakura mochi he had just finished making. The leaves he used were too salty compared to the mochi that Mitsuri said were her favorite. He took the jar of sakura leaves that had been used and threw them in the trash. He had three other brands to work with. 

He looked up the restaurant Mitsuri loved and apparently they shipped their mochi. On a whim, he ordered a batch. He had been curious as to what was so special about them. They were mildly sweet from the red bean taste, short grain rice, and there was a certain amount of acidity he could not place. 

After he finished the matcha cookies she baked him, he decided to make her favorite food outside of omurice or tonkatsu. She had been stressed out over parent teacher meetings, organizing the school’s Halloween party, and going dress shopping with Kanae for the past month. 

Shinobu had visited for two days to assist along with the rest of the Kocho clan. Mitsuri had to shepherd them and make sure they did not influence Kanae’s dress choice. She ran herself ragged the weekend before trying to cater to Kanae and her family’s needs. Kanae decided on a dress last Sunday right before Shinobu had to be at the airport. His phone lit up. 

Mitsuri: I’m going to be so glad when October is over. I want to celebrate Halloween but I just have to get through everything else. 👻🧙

Obanai: You got this. Just another week and you can relax

Mitsuri: 😊 thanks, buddy

Obanai: No problem.

He hoped he would be able to recreate her favorite mochi and give her the recipe, so she would never have to go without her favorite food. Ideally, he would have it done by the end of the week and give them to her on Friday. He imagined her face lighting up, her green eyes becoming glassy, and the pink tinge to her cheeks. 

So far he was having little luck. He had scoured the internet and older cookbooks to figure out the secret. Nothing seemed to note the acidic taste in the restaurant’s mochi. He dumped the newest batch into the trash knowing it was no closer to the ideal than the last seven recipes had been. It angered him that he couldn’t pinpoint the flavor. He had little experience with making sweets, so he was already at a disadvantage. If it had been anything but a sweet, he would have finished days ago. He ran his hand through his hair, irritated with himself. His phone buzzed against the countertop. Flame Boy was calling him.

“Good afternoon, Obi. What are you doing right now? Senjuro and I are driving around town and we miss you,” Kyojuro’s loud voice crackled over the phone speaker. 

“Busy baking,” Obanai answered. He could hear Senjuro’s quiet voice in the background, but was unable to comprehend what he said. 

There was silence on the other end before Kyojuro asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m trying to recreate a recipe and am having no luck.” He sighed and stared at the rice sitting in the rice cooker.  

“We’ll come over and taste the mistakes. It’s my duty as the older brother and his as the younger brother,” Kyojuro said confidently. 

“I’m older than you, idiot. Senjuro can come, but not you. You have to pass elementary school math,” he bristled when he realized Kyojuro had already ended the call. 

Half an hour later, Kyojuro was knocking on the door. When Obanai opened it, Kyojuro marched in and Senjuro stood on the patio, waiting to be invited in. He used his sleeve to hide his face from his neighbors in the case they were wandering the neighborhood.

“Hey,” Senjuro greeted him, awkwardly waving his hand. Obanai gestured for his younger brother to come in. Senjuro was shy and quiet, but looked nearly identical to Kyojuro except five centimeters shorter. He was going to the local community college. Next year, he will be transferring to a four year university to get his bachelors in nursing.  

“Good to see you, Senjuro,” Obanai said, looking up at him. Kyojuro was already in the kitchen banging plates and pans around. Senjuro and Obanai shared a look and sighed at the same time. Obanai took Kaburamaru off his neck and dispensed him back into his enclosure. They moved into the kitchen and saw Kyojuro putting the dirty dishes in the sink, which was surprisingly helpful. Obanai’s body relaxed. Kyojuro meant well despite being brash, Obanai had to remind himself. 

“What are you making?” Senjuro asked. He stood next to the island and looked over the opened jars, notecards, cutting board, and ingredients. 

“Sakura mochi,” he answered. He pointed to the restaurant’s mochi. “I am trying to recreate these.” The black haired man pushed the plate towards Senjuro. The younger man pinched off a piece and took a bite. He closed his eyes as he tasted it. 

“These taste like Mom’s,” Senjuro said quietly, swallowing the piece. Kyojuro turned his head in his direction with raised brows. 

“Let me try.” Kyojuro reached his dirty hands towards the plate. Obanai slapped him. “Not until you wash your hands,” he chided. 

Kyojuro reluctantly washed his hands and took the other half of the mochi. “Tasty! Do you think we still have Mom’s recipe?” He exclaimed. 

Obanai raised his eyebrows. He had never met Ruka Rengoku, she died a year before he joined the family. She had aggressive breast cancer and by the time they caught it and it had metastasized to her lungs. Ruka was said to be kind and gentle like Senjuro and encouraged her children to help others no matter what. If she had still lived, Obanai doubted he would have stayed with the Rengoku family given his fear of women. Or if she was as good as his brothers said, she would have helped. 

“I’m calling Dad to ask.” Kyojuro took out his phone and walked out of the kitchen to the living room. He carried a pen and note card to write down the recipe just in case. 

“What inspired you to make these? Is Nichirin expanding their menu?” Senjuro asked, sitting down on a high chair Obanai pulled up to the island. 

“No. These are for a friend of mine,” Obanai admitted awkwardly. Senjuro’s brows raised for a fraction of a second, but did not ask for further explanation. Senjuro was not one to pry into anyone’s life. “How’s school?” 

“I passed the midterm practical. We had to practice examining our professors’ lymph nodes, noting the different heart sounds and reading an EKG, taking their vitals, and reacting to a code. I had to give CPR to a manikin,” Senjuro explained. “It was exhilarating to be honest.” He smiled with pursed lips. He was embarrassed of his crooked teeth. 

Obanai wished that was his problem. He looked demonic when he smiled without his mask. The scars etched past the corners of his mouth making him grin from ear to ear permanently. 

“I’m glad. I know you were worried about how you react in a high stress situation,” Obanai responded, encouraging. He could rip Kyojuro to shreds and it would not affect his sunny demeanor, but Senjuro was sensitive and deserved to be treated with kindness. 

“When it was happening, my brain went on autopilot and I reacted instead of thinking through every detail,” Senjuro said, his voice rising in excitement. Obanai smiled at his sibling. 

“Your father and brother are similar. You’re following in their footsteps. We’re all proud of you,” Obanai complimented him. Senjuro looked down and traced the edge of the countertop. He hated attention of any type. 

Shinjuro and Kyojuro worked as firefighters. Shinjuro had actually been one of the emergency responders that came to the house fire that killed Obanai’s mother and cousins. Shinjuro disregarded protocol and took Obanai home. He saw a frightened boy with no one left in the world except for a cousin who wished him dead. He had said he could not abandon Obanai after meeting him. Obanai’s feet were bloody from running barefoot and his mouth was ruined. Tears were streaming down his face with fire reflecting in his wide mismatched eyes. Shinjuro carried him away from all of the terror and Obanai would always be grateful for his father. The only one he had ever met. 

The first year Obanai lived with them Shinjuro asked if Obanai wanted to search for his biological father. Obanai never had any interest in finding the man that left him with his mother. According to his mother, his father was a bastard who promised to marry her and then left as soon as he saw another pretty face. Even after knowing his mother was pregnant. His father wanted nothing to do with Obanai, so why would Obanai seek him out? Every year until he turned eighteen, Shinjuro would ask him privately if he had changed his mind. He did not. Even now, he had no desire to meet the man that abandoned him and left him to be raised by her.

Kyojuro came back into the kitchen and waved a slip of paper with Ruka’s sakura mochi recipe. He slid the paper towards Obanai. He snatched the note card up and read through the list and instructions. Ruka added dragonfruit to the red bean paste, giving it acidity. Her recipe suggested chilling the rice after mixing it with the red bean to help the flavors mature. She also used one of the other brands of sakura leaves Obanai had bought. He threw the other two brands out. 

Obanai started ordering his brothers around the kitchen and they followed like trained chefs. It reminded him of their teenage years. Senjuro liked cooking and Kyojuro wanted to be involved. When they finished the next batch, Obanai took a bite. They were a near perfect match for the mochi Mitsuri loved so much. There were a few adjustments he could make to make the rice more cohesive and change the ratio of dragonfruit to red bean. Obanai sent a silent prayer out to Ruka, thanking her for her contribution. Hopefully, Mitsuri would like them. He nodded approvingly before his brothers took their share of the mochi. 

“Do you think your friend will like them?” Senjuro asked innocently. Kyojuro’s head snapped towards Obanai, his mouth stuffed with pink glutinous rice. He looked like a hamster. 

“Friend?” He mimicked, his voice muffled by the rice. Obanai glared at him. Kyojuro swallowed the mochi and grinned devilishly at him. “That friend?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Obanai hated him so much. 

Obanai looked away, but nodded. He didn’t have to look at Kyojuro to know he was finding smug satisfaction in Obanai’s admission. Senjuro most likely wanted to know what friend Kyojuro referred to, but was too polite to ask. He could feel his ears and cheeks burning and he looked down at the plate of mochi. 

“She’s going to love them,” Kyojuro said. He put his arm around Obanai and squeezed his shoulder.

“I hope so,” Obanai muttered. 

“She will,” Kyojuro reassured him. Obanai’s eyes drifted up to Senjuro who looked uncertain. Senjuro would not be likely to embarrass him, so he might as well tell him. 

“There’s a girl I’ve been hanging out with recently. Her name is Mitsuri,” He gulped. “I made these for her.” 

“She must be someone special to get your attention.” Senjuro’s bright eyes widened and he smiled sweetly. 

“She is,” Obanai admitted, glancing down at the sakura mochi that looked like her pastel pink hair. 

Obanai was throwing his gym bag together when he saw Mitsuri’s icon show up on his phone. She did not call often, so he hit the accept button. 

“Hey, I know we had plans to meet at the gym tonight,” Mitsuri said over the phone. She sounded a little shaky. “But I twisted my ankle during recess playing tag with the kids. Would you like to come over instead?” He could imagine her fidgeting with her fingers as she spoke. He noticed her nervous behaviors and when she asked for something she tended to fidget. 

His mouth went dry at her request. He had picked her up once to take her on a hike, but he had never been inside of her house. She rented a cream colored two bedroom house on the east side of town. He lived maybe 15 minutes from her. In the last month, he had set up physical boundaries between the two of them. Mitsuri stopped trying to hold his hand. She respected the boundaries and seemed to take the hint. It was better to keep her at a distance, so he would not be tempted to stain her. She would not try anything he did not wish her to do. 

“I can come over. I’ll make some omurice before I come over," he said. It was an unspoken rule that he did not eat in front of her, which she accepted without complaint. 

“Really? You make the best omurice.” He could see her kicking her legs in excitement and he felt the ghost of a smile thinking of her actions. “Do you want to make it here? I have all the ingredients and that way you can come over sooner,” Mitsuri explained. 

“I can do that,” Obanai agreed to her demands. He looked at the tin of fresh sakura mochi resting on the counter. He would have to bring them too. 

Obanai stood in front of Mitsuri’s house, dressed in grey shorts and a long sleeved shirt. He held the tin of mochi against his chest, his heart pounding. He brought over an ACE wrap just in case she didn’t have one. He knocked on the door lightly, not wanting to startle her.

“Coming!” Obanai heard her call. There was a disjointed pattern to her steps as she made her way towards the door. When she opened the door, she was gingerly holding her right foot off the ground. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Obanai.” Mitsuri opened the door further, hopping on her good foot. He furrowed his brow watching her hop. She should not be on her feet. He walked in and took off his shoes. 

“You should sit down and elevate your feet. I’ll cook you dinner. Where’s your kitchen?” Obanai asked. 

“No, I’m fine.” To prove her point she set her right foot on the ground and attempted to walk normally on it. He saw her face wince as she took another step. 

“Go sit down,” he said more firmly than he intended. Her mouth twisted getting ready to protest, but then set her sprained foot on the ground again.

“Fine,” she grumbled and pointed down the hallway to where there was a light on. Obanai watched her make her way to the dark brown L shaped couch, ensuring she actually elevated her legs. He wondered if she had any frozen vegetables to put over it. She sat down next to her cat, Captain Sushi and propped her feet up on a pillow. She was wearing a pair of yoga capris with a threadbare t-shirt. 

No matter what she wore, she was beautiful to him. He wished she dressed like this more often. She appeared more at ease in her house and wearing these clothes than the professional attire she’s seen her in. Although he had to admit he adored her green overalls covered in paint. 

“Do you have any ice packs or frozen vegetables?” He asked.

 “I have frozen carrots, why?” Mitsuri nodded.

“You should put ice on your sprain to reduce the inflammation.” He made his way over to the coffee table in front of the couch and set down the ACE wrap and tin of mochi. 

“I had an ice pack on when I first got home, but it’s warm now,” she said. “What’s in there?” She asked, pointing to the green tin. 

“A surprise,” Obanai teased her. Her green eyes opened a fraction wider and one of her hands covered her mouth. “For me?”

“No, for Captain Sushi,” Obanai said sarcastically. He felt silly saying the cat’s name out loud. The white cat in question lazily opened his eyes hearing his name and stared at Obanai before resting his head on Mitsuri’s lap. “You can look after dinner.” Obanai went into the kitchen, grabbed the frozen vegetables, and returned to the couch.

“Which side does it hurt more?” He asked. She pointed to the outer side. He handed the ACE wrap to her. She blinked at the bandage.

“I don’t know how to wrap it,” she admitted. She'd been a dancer, wasn't a sprained ankle a rite of passage along with how to treat it?

“I can teach you." Obanai saw her nod. He picked up her right calf, careful not to twist or touch the ankle. He put the frozen carrots over the spot she pointed out. The chef explained how to wrap the bandage over her foot and created a figure-8 pattern up to her calf. It kept the vegetables in place and provided compression. He tried to ignore the way her skin felt under his palms. Her muscles were well toned from running and the lifting they had been doing at the gym. He could feel them beneath his fingers as he wrapped her sprained ankle.

He was tempted to let his hand travel up the rest of her leg. Relishing the feeling of her taut muscles under his palm as he imagined running his hand up her thighs to her hips. Squeezing her hips and- No, he could not fantasize about what he could do with her. It was never going to happen and she would be grossed out if she knew what he was thinking. 

She had enough men sexualize her, he did not need to add to her discomfort. She would be disturbed to know his perverted thoughts. Considering her body type, she was the ideal for many men. Except it was not her body Obanai was most interested in. She was caring, sweet, smart, and generous. He wanted to make her happy where her whole face lit up and to take care of her even if it was only making her sakura mochi. Lame. He was so lame.

When he was satisfied with his work he glanced up. Mitsuri looked content, her features softening. “It feels so much better, thank you,” she said as she reached out to touch him and then pulled her hand back in towards her chest. She had taken the hint not to touch him anymore and a part of him wished he had not set the precedent. 

“Good, time to cook.” He moved her foot back to its original place. Obanai felt his face flush as he walked into her kitchen. Most of her utensils had a cat motif and her pots had cat paws for handles. He shouldn’t be surprised by it. 

He went to work cooking. Obanai found the rice cooker and started it first. Cooking a dish as simple as omurice was relaxing for him. He knew the exact proportions of each ingredient by heart. He cleaned the rice and threw it in the cooker. Before he did anything else, he pulled up his sleeves and tied his hair back. Mitsuri was unlikely to walk in here, so he could expose his forearms without worrying she would see the white scars on them. 

Obanai found the eggs, ketchup, onion, and tomatoes. He cut them up and started mixing the eggs together while the pan heated up. Twenty minutes later he threw everything together on a plate covered in hearts with chopsticks. There were no other options for plates. With a steaming plate of omurice, he made his way back to her. She pushed herself up against the back of the couch as he handed the plate to her.

“You are the best,” Mitsuri thanked him and dug into the meal. She closed her eyes taking the first bite.

Ketchup covered her upper lip. He had to stop himself from reaching over and using his thumb to wipe it off. He sat down on the cushion next to her and let her enjoy her meal in silence. She raved about the texture of the onions when she was done. He took the plate from her and put it in the sink to soak. 

Standing in front of the sink, he held the countertop. He ached to touch more of her after only helping to wrap her ankle. These feelings were new to him. His fingers twitched. His eyes looked down and realized his sleeves were still pulled up to his elbows. Dread filled him. The pit of his stomach became heavy. Had she seen the scars? Why didn’t she say anything? 

“Scars never bothered me.” He heard her voice from a memory. She had told him that months ago. Mitsuri meant it, didn’t she? Innately he trusted her. Maybe he could keep his sleeves up for a little. If she showed any signs of discomfort with his scars he’d pull them back down or leave. 

No, he had been talking to Dr. Ubuyashiki about his avoidant behaviors. He challenged him to reconstruct the scenario from a neutral perspective. What were the facts? 

A woman sprained her ankle and still wanted to see her friend. She invited her friend over to her house, her sanctuary. He cooked for her and wrapped her sprained ankle. She had told him before that scars did not bother her. His scars bothered him and what they implied. His feelings of worthlessness and need to punish himself. Each scar was a punishment for his existence. The light in her living room was low and maybe she had not seen them. He held the hem of his right sleeve getting ready to cover his arm again. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered to himself. He let go of his sleeve and walked back to the living room. Mitsuri was flipping through streaming services before settling on Hulu.

“Futurama is back if you like it,” Mitsuri offered. He made his way back to her side. Obanai grabbed the tin off the table.  

“Here’s your surprise.” Obanai could feel his temperature rising. Mitsuri took the tin and put it in her lap. Sushi was lying over the back of the couch now. 

“You said you were full of surprises when we first met,” Mitsuri mused. Her fingernails pushed up on the lid, revealing the pink and green sakura mochi. Pink glutinous rice balls flavored with red bean and dragon fruit covered in a moss green leaf. In the low light, he barely noted the way her breath slowed. One hand covered her mouth. Her eyes were misty and she was blinking more than necessary. He knew that look. She was going to cry. 

“I-I-” she was at a loss of words. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook. She looked between his eyes and then the mochi several times. Though he was tense, his body responded to her instinctively. His hand took her free hand, savoring the warmth she gave off. Green eyes looked at their joined hands. 

“You had a stressful time in the last few weeks. You once said you loved sakura mochi from a restaurant back home-“ he explained. 

“Did you order them?” Mitsuri’s voice was shaky. She sucked in a quick breath trying to control herself.

“Yes, but these are ones I made. They taste nearly the same and I wrote down the recipe.” He pointed to where he attached the recipe card under the lid. “Now you can make them whenever you want instead of ordering them or waiting until you go home,” Obanai explained. His eyes were trained on her face. She let out a sob. 

“You make me so happy, Obanai." She hiccuped. She took his hand to her face and wiped her tears away. “You’re such a good friend.” She squeezed his hand. The warmth from her hand melted his frigid veins, giving them life. There was a shadow behind her eyes for a second. 

“I try my best,” he said suddenly feeling shy. He looked away from her as he felt his ears redden at her praise. 

“Meow,” Sushi announced his presence and jumped down to lay next to Mitsuri again. She jumped back in shock, letting go of Obanai’s hand in the process. Obanai turned to face the television. 

“I’ll start the show,” she said before coughing to clear her throat. The opening of Futurama played on the screen. On his right side, his vision was blurry, but he could make out Mitsuri picking up one of the mochi. 

She took a bite and immediately moaned. That moan made him want to turn around and make her moan for him, not just from his cooking. He could not look directly at her without making himself obvious. He could feel the blood rushing to his lower half as she continued making those noises. The sound made him weak. He had to cross his legs to prevent any physical response to her moaning. 

Obanai was not used to this desire. His sexual encounters were one night stands without a meaningful connection. He never wanted someone the way he wanted Mitsuri. Nothing would ever happen between them. They had both drawn a line in the sand by calling each other friends. That’s where it started and ended. 

“Obanai, these taste better than the restaurant’s.” Mitsuri paused the show. “The sakura leaves are sweeter than the ones they use. My mouth is watering,” she praised his efforts. A weight was lifted off his chest and stomach as he heard her finish the first mochi. 

“How did you do this?” Mitsuri asked with a stuffed mouth. Her left foot flexed, her toes curling. His right eye twitched, frustrated with his body’s response to her. 

“I tried recreating the restaurant’s mochi for the past week and then Senjuro said they tasted like his mother’s recipe. Kyojuro got the recipe from our father and I was able to make these with minor adjustments,” he shared, staring at the television. If he looked at her he would not stop at just looking. He would pull down the mask and kiss the length of her neck, squeeze her sides, and run his hands through her gorgeous, eccentric hair. If he could he would worship every bit of her until she was crying from ecstasy. 

“Thank you,” Mitsuri repeated herself. “Thank your whole family for me. It means a lot that you did this for me.” Her voice was quieter. 

“No problem,” he said stiffly. Obanai sat back on the couch keeping a foot between him and Mitsuri. He took one of the pillows and placed it over his lap. He was glad she was on his right side where his vision blurred. She resumed the show, but he did not pay attention.

Instead he was listing the ingredients for gyudon in his mind. Beef, white rice, mirin, soy sauce, dashi, onion, sake, eggs, and pickled ginger. He repeated the list until he felt his blood flow return to normal.

They watched a few episodes of Futurama before he heard Mitsuri snoring. He turned to see her torso leaning to the left, her mouth partially open, and an empty green tin. She had eaten every last mochi. In the low light he took care to remove the tin from her lap. There was a cream blanket on his side that he placed over her narrow frame. 

Captain Sushi batted at tassels at the edges of the blanket and then fled down the hallway. From what he knew about cats, they were neurotic and impulsive. Sushi was living up to what he knew. 

Obanai looked around the room taking in the coziness of it. Her coffee table and tv stand were a rich warm chestnut. A lacy mat was centered on the table with a bowl of hard candies. Cinnamon from the looks of it. The tv stand had different origami animals on either side. Did her students make these or herself? He would have to ask her another time. 

Across the walls were pictures of her and her family. Based on her descriptions, he determined who was which sibling. Her two youngest siblings, Megumi and Hinata, were visiting. Megumi was a boy with short dark brown hair rolling his eyes at Mitsuri as she raised her degree above her head. Hinata was a tall wiry girl with black hair standing next to an older woman with graying hair and dark green eyes. Both siblings had the same green eyes as Mitsuri. Part of him wanted to meet them, but it would not serve a purpose. There was her college graduation photo with Kanae. In every single image she smiled so brightly as she hugged her parents, siblings, and friends. None of the pictures featured a boyfriend or girlfriend though. 

Obanai turned off the television and silently made his way back to the kitchen to clean up. The leftover rice he threw in tupperware. He loaded the dishwasher with everything he could and started it. He wiped down the stove and countertop. By the end the kitchen was spotless and he had to thank his years of working as a chef as credit.

He took a deep breath. This was normal. To clean up the kitchen after dinner for a friend who was sleeping in the living room. His heart was not pounding out of his chest, he did not feel the need to run as quickly as he could away from Mitsuri. This was normal. He craved this normalcy, the absence of pain, worry, and torment. 

Perhaps caring for another person like he did Mitsuri would give him that sense of normalcy. He did not go out of his way to help his friends. He asked more of them than they did him. He had little to offer. No words of wisdom, courage, or affection. He was prickly at best making rude comments against Kyojuro and Sanemi mostly. Kyojuro took it in stride and Sanemi snapped back. He could try to be kinder to them and do more for them and feel more normal like he did tonight with Mitsuri. He turned off the lights and headed towards the front door. 

He paused in the space between the door and the living room. His eyes drifted back to Mitsuri sleeping on the couch. She was mumbling. Without thinking he crouched down in front of her, his face within centimeters of hers. Her chest raised up and down slowly in sleep.

“You’re so beautiful, Mitsuri,” he whispered into the dark void. In this space, Obanai could say anything he wanted to her. Everything he contained when she was awake. “If I could I’d give you the moon.” He laid his head against the cushion. With only the moonlight, he noticed a dusting of freckles under her eyes, next to her beauty marks. He reached out his hand to brush with a stray hair away from her face, but stopped himself. It would be a breach of trust if he touched her without her knowledge. 

“Oba,” she mumbled. He blinked rapidly, unsure if he heard her right. “Oba,” she murmured again. She snuggled into the back of the couch and sighed. He waited in the shadows wondering if she was going to wake or say something else. She did not. 

Obanai heard his knees creak as he stood up and went to the front door. He put on his shoes, grabbed his car keys. Shutting the door quietly, he jiggled the handle to make sure the woman he adored was safe inside. It was locked. He was not going to torment himself asking what, how, or why she was whispering his nickname in her sleep. 

Chapter Text

End of October

Pinpricks woke Mitsuri from her slumber. She reached her hand out searching for the cause and found Sushi’s soft downy fur. He was kneading her stomach through the blanket. With her other hand, she sought the man who had cared for her last night in hopes he would be resting beside her. 

Lazily, she opened her eyes and saw the white cat staring at her blankly. Sunlight was slipping through the curtains. She rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. Last night she must have fallen asleep while Obanai was here. 

“Obanai?” Mitsuri called out, her voice lower than normal. No answer. He must have left when she was sleeping. She frowned. He could have at least said goodbye. Her eyes drifted over to the coffee table where her phone rested and the recipe card for the sakura mochi. Sushi jumped off of her and hit the floor with a thud. 

Last night, Obanai had taken care of her. He wrapped her ankle, cooked her dinner, and gave her a box of sakura mochi that tasted better than her favorite mochi. It was overwhelming to say the least. He was overly gentle with her, every touch was caress. She could feel the imprint of his hand under her calf as he wrapped her foot. 

Mitsuri threw the blanket off and ran her hand over her right calf, ankle, and foot. She flinched in pain. The ACE wrap had loosened overnight, the bag of what used to be frozen carrots had fallen out and rested on the floor. Sighing, she rerolled the wrap and started wrapping her ankle the way he taught her. She hated that she took note of every callus on his hands as he unrolled the bandage over her leg with figure eights. 

Last month, she snuffed out her growing feelings for him, or attempted to. It was made easier by the fact he never touched her, even accidentally. He set that boundary and she would accept it. She did not message him as often and started setting certain times she could and could not text or call him. Instead of ‘Iguro Obanai ☺️’, he was listed as ‘Iguro Obanai- NO TEXTING AFTER 9’ in her phone contacts as a precaution. The lengths she went to stomp out the crush were absurd and rudimentary. 

It had been working until tonight. What should have been ashes turned back to embers sparked by him being himself. How could she not like him after last night? She tucked the wrap in on itself as she secured it around her leg. 

Mitsuri brought her legs over and sat on the edge of the couch. She picked up the recipe card and looked over the ingredients. He took the time to order the mochi and then recreated the recipe for her. Just a friend would not do that, right? 

Although, Kyo had taken care of her when she stayed over one weekend and got a cold from the kids at school. Except afterwards he expected to be praised for every little action he did. Warming up canned soup and handing her tissues was the bare minimum. She shook her head, Obanai and Kyo could not be compared. 

Obanai was better hands down. Obanai never put her down or told her what, when, or how much to eat. He sat beside her as she ate, talking about something that happened at work or smiling with his two different colored eyes when she went on about this or that. 

“You’re making this hard, Oba,” she mumbled to herself. She blinked slowly as she remembered her dream from last night. It felt surreal, as if she had actually lived the dream.

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In the dream, Obanai and her were dressed in cosplay or old fashioned black uniforms. It was hard to tell. Her uniform had a very revealing top, skirt, and thigh high green socks that matched her hair. He had a black and white pinstriped haori and she was in a white one. There were swords leaning against the bench. The hilts are corded with violet and lavender strings and the other blue with clovers for the hilt guard. A white snake was lying in the sun beside them. Instead of a mask, he wore bandages. Obanai was cradling her face between both of his hands. 

“Kanroji, please look at me,” he urged her, his voice calm. Her green eyes shifted to look at him. “There’s nothing you could have done for the new recruits. By the time you got to them, the poison was already in their blood.” 

“I should have been faster or had an antidote with me. They should be alive,” she said solemnly. There was a hole in her chest and overwhelming guilt over her comrades' deaths. These she could have prevented if she had been better. She was the weakest hashira. 

“You can’t blame yourself,” he whispered, his thumb running over her cheek. Despite the calluses on his hand, his touch was tender, caring. She wanted nothing more than to melt into him. “Death is always a risk in our line of work. They knew what they were signing onto.” 

“I am a hashira, I had the power to save them. I am going to give it everything I have to save just one life. It should have been me being buried today,” she said, her hands bunching her skirt. 

“No, I won’t let you talk like this,” he said, his eyes were fierce.  He shut his eyes before he spoke again. “I don’t want you to die, Kanroji. If I had to choose between them and you to live, I would choose you every single time.”

She gasped as he pulled her into his arms. Her head resting on his shoulder. “You are too good to die,” he whispered in her ear. It made her shiver. She wrapped her arms around him. He was so warm and comforting. When he held she believed everything would be alright. In his arms she was safe. This was why she liked him. For her, he acted as a lighthouse in the dark, he beckoned her to come home with his words of encouragement and compassion. She wanted to see him the most when she came back from missions. He was too good to her. 

“Oba,” she said and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I don’t want anyone to die,” Mitsuri admitted. He held her, one arm circling her waist and the other behind her back holding her head. In this version of herself, she felt beloved. The ache in her chest subsided. She wanted to tell him how she felt, how she wanted to come home to him everyday. 

Fear gripped her. If she told him how she felt and he died, she would be losing more than a friend and comrade. She would be losing the man she adored most. Her body trembled and he brought her closer to him. She fought back her emotions, holding them inside. Her hands gripped the back of his haori. 

 “Oba,” she said again. He leaned his head against her, the bandages tickling her face. He smelled like a forest and she wanted to hold onto him forever. The dream ended there. 

<><><><><><>

Now her subconscious was making up dreams where she pined for him in some sort of military-samurai fantasy. She groaned and ran her hands through her bubblegum pink hair. She was a lost cause. 

Also, she saw the scars on his forearms when he pulled his sleeves up. Though she tried not to stare she kept finding herself sneaking glances. The cuts were shiny slivers of skin running from the inner to outer forearms. It explained why she never saw him wear short sleeved shirts. He hid them like he hid the scars on his face. They clearly bothered him. The appearance of them didn’t bother her, but the reason why they were there did. 

Did someone hurt him… or did he hurt himself? All the scars looked old based on their coloring. Every mark held some terrible memory. She wanted him to tell her about them and the ones on his face. Months ago he implied if she knew how his scars came to be she would cry. They had to be trauma related. Obanai had not brought up the topic since then and she respected his boundary. Mitsuri wanted to know even if it hurt her. It probably hurt Obanai a thousand times more, if she could carry a faction of the burden she would. 

Her phone rang and she glanced over. Her chest fluttered, hoping to see Obanai’s icon, the photo they took at the reptile sanctuary. It was her mother who wanted to finalize plans for their trip in late November. Her parents and two youngest siblings were coming, but her other sister wouldn’t be able to come with her husband and baby. 

Beginning of November

Obanai sat on the couch in Dr. Ubuyashiki’s office staring at the new addition. In the middle of the table there was a tray filled with sand and a tiny rake. Dr. Ubuyashiki called it a sand tray and used it commonly with children to process their trauma. He offered Obanai to use it, but the slighter man declined. He used squeeze toys like his snake keychain to counteract extra stress he felt. 

“Have you had any more bad dreams since August?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. “You have not mentioned any and the anniversary is soon.”

The anniversary he was referring to marked 16 years since he escaped and burnt down his mother’s house. He shivered remembering that day with perfect clarity. 

<><><><><><><><><><><>

She was drinking again. Her glass was half full of whiskey. He was standing at the sink cleaning dishes as his mother asked him to do. He dropped a plate as he was drying it off. It shattered onto the floor and she accidentally stepped on a piece. Obanai tried to pick up the shards as quickly as possible to stop her screaming. He hated when she screamed and wanted it to stop. Bowing down, he apologized for his behavior. He would be better. 

You’re just like your father. Worthless, sad, and pathetic. I should have aborted you the minute I found out I was pregnant. All you’ve ever done is hurt me. His mother screeched and hit the side of his head. His vision blurred as a bruise formed on his right temple. After that blow his vision was never the same. 

She grabbed her glass and threw back her head, taking the shot. The smell of liquor lingered on her breath as she approached him. She had him look up at her. Amber and teal eyes wide as they stared up at her. Why don’t you smile for me anymore? She wept, fat tears rolling down her face. His mother’s behaviors were erratic to begin with, even worse when she drank. His cousins were taunting him, smirking at him, and pointing at his cheeks. One went as far as to pinch his cheeks. He still did not smile. He felt nothing except for fear. 

Then his mother took a knife and split his face open as his cousins sniggered at his misfortune. He struggled against them as his mother whispered, Smile for me, Baby. Blood dripped to the old wood floor, staining it red. One held his silky long black hair back and his mother forced him to look up at her. 

Now you’ll never stop smiling. She had the nerve to smirk at him and then let him go. One of the cousins found bandages and covered his face with them. She forced him back into his room where he laid until he tried the door. His cousin forgot to lock the door and he ran as quickly as he could. The rest was fire and ashes. 

The first week he lived with the Rengoku’s, he peeled the scabs off his face, tearing off his mother’s last present to him. His nails scraped off the red rust. Air hit his face, making him tremble, blood dripping out of the wounds. Lines of blood running down his cheeks. They would just form new scabs and he would tear those off too. 

His mother had been sure to cut deep. If he had just smiled she and his cousins would be alive. To be her happy, pretty boy. A reminder of her lover and antagonist. The wretched man who knocked her up and ran away before he was even born. He looked in the bathroom mirror, one yellow eye and teal eye staring back. Disgust filled him. Supposedly, his eyes were from his father and he hated seeing the man in the mirror. 

The bandages around his chin and neck were bloodied. His facial wounds were jagged because he fought against her. He ripped off the old bandages and replaced them with new ones. Shinjuro showed him how to clean and swap them out. He could explain away the constant need to switch out dressings by saying anytime he talked the wounds would split. Part of it was true. They were slow to heal.

With a pair of scissors, Obanai cut off his ponytail to the base of his neck. It fell in a straight, fine line, smooth as silk. He used the scissors and chopped at the hair his mother loved to brush and braid. She treated him like a ragdoll. Every snip and clump of hair falling to the floor was a relief. He was shedding her expectations. 

Two months after the incident, Obanai was a useless lump on his bedroom floor. He felt the wood floor on his stomach as he laid face down. An hour before, he dreamt of his mother screaming at him. His stomach was heavy and his mind repeated his mother’s words. Worthless, sad, and pathetic. All of them were true. The words played on repeat. He used a razor to cut across his upper arms just to feel something other than the dread and guilt that filled him. It was easier to hide the cuts on his upper arms than forearms. He traced the grain in the wood with one finger. 

Except this time he cut too deep. Blood was pooling under his right arm. He should have died with his family. Why did he survive when they were dead? He felt their hands reaching out and dragging him down. Their arms covered in soot and the smell of burnt flesh surrounded him. When he stepped forward their limbs tripped him. Over and over again. They meant to drag him down to the underworld. Let them take him. Worthless, sad, and pathetic. 

Shinjuro found him like that, tracing the grain with his bloodied pointer finger, and took him to the emergency room fearing for his adoptive son’s life. Obanai was held in the psych ward for seven days afterward. His adoptive father made him attend weekly therapy sessions until he was deemed unlikely to commit suicide. Obanai met the bare minimum requirements to ‘pass’ therapy. 

There had been other attempts, none that his adoptive family knew about. He’d tried to jump off the roof only to end up twisting his foot. Another time he’d taken a bottle of pills only to wake up with a horrible headache. One time he picked up a jug of bleach, but before he could try drinking it the shelf the jug had been resting on broke. He couldn’t have his brothers or his father find his lifeless body and a broken shelf. That would be crossing the line. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Shinjuro did what he could for the troubled boy and ensured on every anniversary that he was not alone. This year he will be busy bar hopping with Sanemi, Kyojuro, and Tengen to celebrate the last one’s birthday. Every year that passed, it became easier to distance himself. In the last three years, he has been able to disassociate from the event in order to cope. Typically, the nightmares occurred close to the actual date, November 4th. Today was November 2nd. He had not had any since August. 

“I haven’t,” Obanai finally responded. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki clapped. “Congratulations. Three months is a record, is it not?” 

Obanai nodded. “It is. I have not harmed myself either. The grounding technique is working,” Dr. Ubuyashiki clapped again. 

“Let’s hope it continues working. We’re almost out of time. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked, glancing at the clock. 

“Mitsuri,” Obanai said point blank. They had discussed the teacher several times now. Dr. Ubuyashiki gave him a knowing look. “I feel normal around her, but I know I’m not. I fear she will run away.”

“There’s no such thing as normal. What exactly would she be running from?” The therapist asked. 

“Me. My life, my past, my self doubt, my anxiety, my scars, and my face,” Obanai pulled down his mask revealing the hideous facial scars courtesy of his mother. The scar tissue looked like ripples over his cheeks. His fingertips grazed the fissures and ridges as he pulled the mask down. Dr. Ubuyashiki leaned forward and put his hand under his chin. 

“Why do you think she would run?” 

“My past is not normal and it’s a lot to take in. Only a few people know everything that happened. My adoptive family and Sanemi know everything. Tengen knows some parts of it,” Obanai explained. He toyed with the stress toy, squeezing the silicon between his fingers. 

“You don’t have to tell her everything,” the dark haired man said calmly. “You already told her you have scars and that she saw your forearms. She’s still talking to you, right?” 

“Yes,” Obanai admitted. The last message was a picture of her latest design for her classroom. She painted a large turkey and was going to have the kids dip their hands in paint to make feathers for their art project. He did not mention that Mitsuri may have been dreaming about him. He was not going to think too deeply about the memory of her whispering his nickname as she slept. It was probably her brain using bits and pieces of her day for a dream. He had been the last person she talked to that night. 

“That’s a good sign. You’ve been revealing small bits to her and she’s accepted everything so far. You set the boundary for your scars and past. She respected your boundary by not asking about the ones on your arms. Obanai, you are in control of what she knows about your life. No one else can share your past with her. Determine what you're comfortable telling her,” Dr. Ubuyashiki reasoned for Obanai. “That’s your homework. Tell Mitsuri that makes you feel vulnerable. From what you’ve told me of her, she won’t run from you.” 

He grimaced. What could he share? I never met my bio dad because he left before I was even born. He was probably as bad as her. My alcoholic mother cut open my face because I wouldn’t smile for her anymore? My mother and cousins abused me until I was fearful of any and all women. A fear I only conquered in the past five years. She would call me pet names. She hit me so hard my vision is partially impaired. Or I ran away and am responsible for the death of my mother and three cousins? I have nightmares that leave me scared shitless and to cope I hurt myself. I once cut myself so deeply I almost bled out on my bedroom floor. If Shinjuro had not found me, I would be dead. Or the fact I hate myself and I bully my loved ones because it was the only way I was shown affection growing up. 

None of the options were good. They were all interconnected and if he revealed one he would have to explain the rest. That was his all or nothing thinking that led him down a slippery slope into self doubt and loathing. His jaw clenched. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” Obanai said. She had not rejected anything he had said or done yet. He reminded himself that she planned outings for him specifically. She was the sun and he wasn’t ready to slip back into the night. He’d spent too long basking the sun to return to the shadows. He wanted Mitsuri to stay in his life in any capacity for as long as she would have him. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki nodded. “The homework is optional. They are suggestions at best.” 

“I know, but it tends to help out,” Obanai admitted begrudgingly. He pulled his mask over his face again where it should be. 

Kanae: You should come over and drink wine with me.  

Mitsuri: Right now?

Kanae: Yes, Sanemi is out with Tengen, Kyojuro, and Obanai to celebrate Tengen’s birthday. We can have a girl’s night! 👯

Mitsuri: Yay! This is exactly what I need. I’ll be over in a little bit with wine

Over the past week, Mitsuri felt at odds with herself and she wanted to get Kanae’s opinion on this particular matter. Whenever she saw Kanae these days, it revolved around the wedding or Sanemi was also there. For this matter, Mitsuri wanted to talk to her best friend alone. 

She threw dry cat food in Sushi’s bowl. The bell on his collar alerted her as he came barreling down the hall. He was in the awkward teenage stage where his paws were bigger than the rest of him and he was clumsy. Sushi bumped into the cabinet at full force and she laughed before kneeling down to pet him. 

“Be good,” she said and the kitten purred as he settled down beside his food bowl. Mitsuri grabbed her purse, car keys, and a bottle of sweet rose wine for her and Kanae to share. She locked her front door and drove to Kanae’s house. She parked in the driveway behind Kanae’s white sedan. Sanemi’s Mazda CX-5 was gone, but Obanai’s Jeep was sitting across the street. Just seeing a piece of him made her feel light. There was no way to squash her growing feelings for him. 

She stepped out of her car and headed up the steps. Kanae opened the door and pulled her into a hug before dragging her into the kitchen to find a corkscrew for the wine. Kanae had two other bottles they could have if Mitsuri’s rose didn’t last the night. The taller woman was shuffling in the drawers. 

“I knew I had it on Tuesday,” she mumbled as she shut another drawer. Kanae shifted to the other side of the kitchen and opened the dishwasher. Sure enough the corkscrew was sitting in the utensil basket. 

“Thanks for coming over. I miss this.” Kanae smiled as she used the corkscrew to open the wine. “Of course. Sanemi only let me know he was going out a few hours ago, so I figured I could have you all to myself for the night.” 

“It’s been a while since it has just been the two of us,” Mitsuri said. She grabbed two wine glasses from a cabinet that Kanae had pointed out earlier. Kanae poured the rose heavily into the glasses. 

“You can always ask if you want some quality one on one time with me, Mitsuri. Sanemi can deal with a few hours alone.” Kanae grabbed both glasses and headed to the living room. She sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. Kanae crossed her legs as Mitsuri sat down to face her. 

“I know, but I never want to make Sanemi think I don’t like him.” Mitsuri pulled a blanket over her legs. She took her glass from Kanae. 

“He’s a hot head, but he would never be offended by you. You’re like a sister to him and he’s fiercely protective of all his siblings.” Kanae smiled warmly. Her pale purple eyes softened when she spoke of her future husband. “It’s what I love about him,” she added.

“What else do you love about him?” Mitsuri asked. It was rare to hear Kanae so openly praise him. Sanemi and Kanae cared for each other deeply, but when they were around other people they were constantly bickering. Kanae touched her lips, taking time to respond. Mitsuri had seen the beginnings of their relationship, but it had altered and shifted with time. 

“I mean, you know I didn’t like him when I met him. He was cocky, arrogant, and rash everything I was not. Any time I saw him I would walk the other way because I did not want to deal with his bullshit…” Kanae started. 

“I remember you asking what changed my mind back then, but I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I said I should give him another chance because I was quick to judge him. Back then I actually overheard a conversation between him and his mother in the library. He was talking about sending her money to help her pay rent. She refused, but he insisted, saying she had taken care of him since he was born and he wanted to take care of her and his siblings. I just could not believe he was the same cocky asshole that I met. He cared for his mom and siblings wholeheartedly. So, I became his friend,” Kanae continued. 

“I started liking him when we spent time alone studying for physics or biology. We tutored each other and he would do little things. He would break down every detail of a physics concept when I struggled with my gen eds making comparisons to flowers. It was comical the lengths he would go to just to help me understand,” Kanae chuckled. “Sorry, this is just rehashing things you already know.” 

“No, I like hearing you gush about Sanemi. It’s really sweet. I was an outsider looking in,” Mitsuri encouraged her friend. “You know I love love.” Even though she had only loved an asshole. Now she had the whispers in the back of her mind whenever she saw Obanai. Were her feelings the beginning of love? Or was she getting ahead of herself? 

Kanae nodded, “Then Tengen noticed that I liked him and told him to ask me out. You know most of everything during that time. I first realized I loved him after he canceled a date because his sister’s boyfriend broke up with her and he wanted to take her out. I offered to join them if she agreed. The three of us spent the night out setting off fireworks, shit talking her ex, and stargazing. His devotion to his family is what I loved the most about him,” Kanae said. Her face lit up talking about her fiancé.

“Now, I adore his direct and honest communication though it may come off as brash and insensitive. He never beats around the bush. When we walk, he always takes the side closest to the road. He makes my coffee with extra cream because he knows I won’t ask for it. Plus, he’s always been ridiculously strong and can throw me around.” 

Kanae’s face reddened. “In a good way. Wait, I don’t know if that sounds better or worse,” Kanae sighed. She bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. 

“I mean if you like it rough, I think you picked the right guy.” Mitsuri grinned and let out a snort. Kanae slapped Mitsuri’s shoulder, unable to respond in any other way due to her embarrassment. Mitsuri finished off her glass of wine and stood up to get more. Hell, she would bring the bottle with her. And she did just that. 

Mitsuri and Kanae spent the rest of the night talking about their college years and their sorority sisters. Three hours later they had gone through three bottles. Mitsuri’s mind felt like there was haze over it. 

“Is Shinobu still dating that guy you mentioned?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Yep. Surprisingly, she hasn’t released this one back yet,” Kanae reported. “I can’t remember his name right now… then we could stalk his social media.”

“I want to say Tom, but that’s definitely wrong,” Mitsuri laughed and Kanae joined her. 

Kanae leaned her head on the back of the couch. “I’m glad you moved here, Suri. I missed you.” She reached out her hand for Mitsuri. She gave her hand willingly.

“Me too. I think I needed to leave after everything went down with Kyo,” Mitsuri said. Her mouth felt like cotton. “I needed a change of scenery. I miss my family, but I’m grateful for all the opportunities moving here brought. My job, you, naturally, and new friends.” 

Kanae bit her lip. “I wanted to ask…you don’t have to explain, of course, but what’s going on with you and Obanai?”

Mitsuri knew this conversation was bound to happen. “We’re friends,” she replied simply. 

Kanae tapped her temple, “Friends…” she sounded out the word. “Friends who hang out in the middle of the night on a regular basis.” She made a vulgar gesture that was uncharacteristic. Sanemi was rubbing off on her a little too much. 

She threw one of the decorative pillows at Kanae. “It’s not like that! I like him. I really like him,” Mitsuri said for the first time out loud. 

“Called it,” the black haired woman smiled mischievously. 

“Am I that obvious?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Not quite, but I’ve known you for years. Whenever I contact you, you are planning to do this or that with Obanai. Plus you get this little smile on your face when he’s mentioned. Remember when you found out it was his birthday? You bombarded Sanemi with so many questions,” Kanae laughed. 

“Sanemi looked so uncomfortable with your rapid fire questions. It made my day. He wasn’t sure if he betrayed Obanai by telling you his birthday and that he liked reptiles and matcha cookies. Then you sent me that link with the white snake from Etsy asking if it would be a good gift for him. Girl, I’ve known him for three years now and have no idea what he likes or dislikes because he’s so quiet,” Kanae said.

“Except when he’s been drinking, but it was only one time on Sanemi’s birthday last year. He actually asked me about my latest projects and praised my work after I showed him my latest creation,” Kanae reminisced. “It was awkward, but he was sincere.” 

“That's what I like about him,” Mitsuri admitted, her cheeks pink from the wine. She folded her hands together. “I like how earnest he is. I was wondering if you knew what sort of person he liked.” She glanced down. 

“I don’t, but even if I did it wouldn’t help. Mitsuri, you shouldn’t pretend to be someone else just to get a person to like you,” Kanae advised. 

“I know, but I don’t know if he’s even interested in women. I can’t get a read on him,” Mitsuri said, a bit frustrated. 

“I’ve asked Sanemi before because I wanted to try setting him up with one of my coworkers. Sanemi said he wasn’t sure and he’s known him for over ten years. Obanai has never dated anyone according to Sanemi,” Kanae summarized. “You could ask him?”

Mitsuri flushed harder. It would be rude and intrusive to ask him straight out. She definitely could not do it. No way. It might be a sore subject for him if he’s never been in a relationship.

Bang! Mitsuri turned her head at the sound, looking out the front door. There was a jingle of keys and four men poured inside the house. Tengen was giving Sanemi a piggyback ride while Kyojuro and Obanai walked in behind them. Sanemi had a line of drool from the corner of his mouth, indicating he was sleeping. 

Obanai was wearing a black leather jacket and white shirt accented with a cream scarf with black tight jeans and boots. His ever present black mask over his face. He looked edgy tonight compared to his usual gym or chef attire. Mitsuri looked down at her own clothes. Ratty brown t-shirt and blue jeans. Now she wished she had dressed a little nicer. She smiled at him from her place on the couch. His sweet eyes widened for the briefest of seconds upon seeing her. 

“Is Sanemi okay? He was supposed to be the DD.” Kanae came around to the front door, reaching out for her fiancé. 

“Yeah, you know how he is. He fell asleep in the car after the Crows.” Tengen adjusted the man in question on his back. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“I’ll show you.” Kanae led Tengen and Sanemi away from the main entry. 

“Good evening, Miss Mitsuri.” Kyojuro bowed deeply to her. Theatrical as always. “I hate to be rude, but I am starving.” Kyojuro waved at Mitsuri and made his way to the kitchen in search of food. The sound of the pantry door opening could be heard and then the rustle of bags. Obanai walked over to Mitsuri.

“Hey,” he greeted her. His voice was raspy, most likely from yelling over people at the bar. He smelled of leather and smoke. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said in a more flirtatious tone than she meant. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed up. You look nice,” Mitsuri complimented him as she looked up at him from her perch on the couch. The wine made her braver. His amber and teal eyes were intense as they watched her. She never wanted him to look away. 

“You forgot the first time we met we were both dressed up. You were wearing a blue satin dress,” he corrected her. He leaned forward, looking down on her. Mitsuri remembered little of that summer day. She had been too nervous to take in any information when she first arrived at Kanae’s house. However, she did recall the kindness he showed her. That meant more than what he was wearing.

“You remember that? I was a mess,” she asked, resting her head on her arms.

“Of course, I remember, it was a pretty dress. You weren’t a mess. There’s no need to talk about yourself that way.” His fingertips were mere centimeters from her forearm. If he stretched his fingers they would be touching. Was she so touch starved that she was measuring the distance between him and her? 

“So, what did you guys do tonight?” Mitsuri asked, changing the subject. 

“Tengen wanted to bar hop, so we went from the Village to Twelve Moons and some others before we ended up at the Crows,” he explained. “We played pool and darts. Tengen and Sanemi tried fighting each other in the Crows’ parking lot.”

“Oh no, they looked okay.” Mitsuri looked down the hall where the other three had disappeared to. 

“It wasn’t much of a fight. Sanemi threw a punch and landed on his ass when Tengen grabbed his arm and pushed him to the ground. He’s fine,” he shrugged like it was commonplace to fight his friends. 

“Is it normal for you guys to fight?” She asked.

“It’s part of the routine at this point for Sanemi and Tengen to fight. We all roughhouse, but it’s mostly those two. Their egos are too big to contain,” Obanai explained. “Sanemi almost always ends up sleeping on the car ride home. At least, Sanemi asked if I could DD for the night before he started drinking this time.” 

“Were you drinking before then?” She asked. She could not recall ever seeing him drink alcohol. 

“I had a sour beer at the first place, but then I stopped. Sanemi looked like he needed it more than me,” Obanai said. “I’m usually the DD anyway.”

“That was nice of you.” Mitsuri moved her hand to touch his forearm. The leather was smooth and worn. When she drank she liked to feel different textures. He did not move his arm away. 

“You can call it that… Alcoholism runs in my family, so I don’t drink often,” he spoke quietly. His eyes looked past her, avoiding direct eye contact. This was the first time he had ever mentioned his biological family to her. They remained a mystery along with the circumstances of his adoption. She wasn’t sure what to say in response. Mitsuri rubbed his arm trying to give him quiet comfort. His teal and amber eyes looked at her hand over his forearm before clearing his throat and found her green eyes again. 

“Mitsuri, if you need a ride home I can take you,” Obanai offered. She moved to sit up on her knees, so their faces would be level. His pupils were dilated. She licked her lips. It would be so easy to pull him in. All she had to do was take his mask off and put her hand behind his neck, tug on his beautiful hair, and lay her lips on his. Except he looked stunned at their proximity. Her burst of courage was lost when she realized he would reject her. She lowered herself back to her original position. 

Movement caught her eye as Kyojuro peeked around the corner. He put a finger to his lips and he moved against the wall silently. She giggled. Obanai looked at her smile. His slanted eyes narrowed as he spoke next, “I swear to the gods if you try to pick me up right now, I am shoving you in my trunk.” 

“Obi, you’re so cute when you’re angry.” Kyojuro wrapped his arms over his brother’s shoulders about to pick him up. Obanai turned away from Mitsuri and threw Kyojuro over his shoulder. The firefighter landed on his front. Obanai sat on top of him, pinning Kyojuro’s arm behind him. She did not expect to see that tonight, but it made her warm. What did Kanae say about being thrown around? Kyojuro cried out in surrender, “I yield! I’ll ride in the trunk. Just like the old days!” 

“What did you do in the old days?” Mitsuri asked. 

Bright red yellow eyes turned up to look at her. “Obanai, Sanemi, and a few other guys would pile into his car. There were only four seats so I would ride in the trunk. If there was an accident I’d rather be the one to get hurt,” he explained lying on the ground. 

The shorter man stood up and brushed off the front of his jeans. Green eyes followed his hands, admiring the shape of his thighs. What was it about a well dressed man being more attractive than a half naked one? She buried her face behind the couch. 

“Thanks for taking care of him, Tengen.” Kanae’s voice was louder. Mitsuri lifted her head. Kanae and the flashy tall man entered the living space. 

“I’m used to it at this point.” The red eyed man looked down at the floor and noticed Kyojuro. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Kyojuro glanced at Tengen. “It’s comfy down here,” he said and then laid his head down. 

Obanai sighed and rolled his eyes. “That’s our signal to go before we have to pull him off the floor and drag him down the steps.” 

He used his foot to roll Kyojuro over on his back. “Come on,” Obanai encouraged him. “Flam- Kyojuro.” Mitsuri tilted her head wondering why he switched from the nickname to his brother’s name mid sentence. 

Obanai offered his hand to the yellow haired man who took it. Obanai looked back at Mitsuri. “Do you want a ride home? I have to take these two back,” he asked. 

“No, I don't want to make another detour on your way home. I’m sure you’re tired and want to go to bed.” She glanced over at Kanae. Her friend was looking between her and Obanai with bated breath. Tengen stood against the door frame eyeing the rest of them looking bored. 

“I won’t be able to fall asleep for at least three more hours,” Obanai said calmly, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be an issue.”

“Alright,” Mitsuri got off the couch. “I’ll have to get my car in the morning.” 

“I can drive it over tomorrow before Sanemi and I go for our exercise class,” Kanae offered quickly. Mitsuri didn’t even realize she had a class. Let alone if Sanemi would be willing to go with a hangover. “Problem solved.”

“Sushi has never been home alone for the night” Mitsuri commented and handed her keys to her best friend. Kanae hugged Mitsuri tightly.

“Who’s Sushi?” Tengen asked as the group made their way out of the house. 

“My cat. His full name is Captain Sushi of the Kanroji clan,” she said in the most serious tone she could muster after three bottles of wine. Mitsuri tried to contain her laughter, but lost. Obanai was walking two steps ahead of her, guiding Kyojuro towards his Jeep. 

“That is flashy and hilarious,” Tengen grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers as they walked down the steps. In college, they had been friendly acquaintances through Sanemi. He had pretended to be her boyfriend at parties if guys were starting to get handsy and she looked uncomfortable. Tengen acted as a deterrent and would be overly affectionate in front of the guys trying to fuck her. She had no romantic inclinations towards him, nor he with her. He opened the back door for her. She hopped in and Tengen stepped into the back seat beside her. 

Kyojuro threw open the Jeep’s trunk and attempted to crawl in. “I’m not getting a fine because you want to relive high school,” Obanai pointed at Kyojuro and then the front seat. “Front seat,” he commanded and his brother followed his orders.

Obanai got into the driver seat. He looked over each of his passengers to ensure they were wearing their seat belts before turning on his car. 

“You’re first, Tengen.” Obanai eyed him in the rearview mirror. He put the Jeep in drive and started down the road. 

“What if I asked to be last? I haven’t seen Mitsuri in such a long time.” Her old friend put his arm around her shoulders. Her chest pressed against his side as he pulled her into a bear hug. “You’re so cute, Mitsuri, does anyone ever tell you that?” Tengen asked. She flushed, embarrassed to be the center of attention. 

“You live five minutes away from here.” Obanai glared daggers at the tallest man. He turned roughly to the left. Mitsuri had to tense her legs and feet to keep from being thrown around. He did not normally drive this aggressively. Tengen’s red eyes flashed wildly. 

“Do you want to come over, Mitsuri? I’d hate to cut our reunion short. My wives would love to see you again,” Tengen inquired, looking down at her. She had met them briefly at the engagement party months ago. 

“I’d love to,” she said. “But not tonight. We can set something up another time.” She glanced over at Obanai, his hands firmly over the steering wheel squinting directly ahead of him. 

Tengen squeezed her closer to him. “The night is still young,” he flirted with her. It was so flamboyant and obviously an act. 

“It’s too late for me. I’m an old cat lady who misses her kitten and sleep,” she laughed. 

“We need our beauty sleep,” Kyojuro yawned, helping her argument. He was leaning to the right side, his head resting against the door. Tengen loosened his grip on her, but their shoulders touched. 

“It must be hard to be mortal. As God of Festivals, I require no sleep,” Tengen announced. No one responded to him. She caught Obanai rolling his eyes and she grinned. The next minute Obanai stopped the car in front of a modern style two story house with hedges sculpted into boars. 

“Your wives are waiting for you,” Obanai said icily. He was still staring straight ahead, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone. 

“If you ever want to visit, you’re always welcome. A pleasure as always, Mitsuri.” Tengen grasped her hand and kissed her fingers. She pulled back her hand. Tengen hopped out of the car casting a glance at the front seat, grinning. 

“Happy birthday, Tengen,” Kyojuro said quietly, nestling in his seat. His eyelids were shut and he was using his jacket as a pillow. Obanai took a minute before driving again to look at his phone and pick out music. She never realized how long his fingers were as he scrolled through playlists. His black hair framed his face, two longer bangs almost reached just below his eyebrows. He had such an intense look on his face. The softness she saw earlier was replaced with stiff movements between the car ride and Tengen being… Tengen.

“Kyojuro, you’re next,” Obanai stated. He chose chill vibes to lull people to sleep. 

It was 15 minutes to Kyojuro’s place. Obanai was silent and Kyojuro was napping. When they got to the firefighter’s home, Obanai had to get out of the car and help his brother inside. For all the bickering Obanai and Kyojuro did, they genuinely cared for each other. Mitsuri moved herself to the front seat. She did not want Obanai to feel like a chauffeur after he was nice enough to take her home. Kanae would have let her stay over… But she wanted to spend more time with Obanai. 

The man in the leather jacket trotted down the entry’s steps and returned to his car. As he stepped into the driver’s seat, he noticed that Mitsuri had come to the front. 

“I didn’t want you to feel lonely up here,” Mitsuri said as she adjusted the air vent on her side of the car. She wanted to occupy her hands. 

“I never feel lonely when you’re around,” Obanai said, buckling himself in. Her hands froze. Why did he have to say things like that? Things that made her feel warm and fuzzy. This was exactly why she could not figure out if he was interested or not. 

She turned to look at him. His eyes were focused on the road. “Are you okay?” He asked. One hand on the wheel and another one was tapping his thumb to each individual finger.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” She tilted her head, confused by his question.

“I wasn’t sure if Tengen was making you uncomfortable or not,” Obanai said. “He gets handsy when he’s been drinking.” He didn’t look at her. The streetlights reflected in his eyes. 

“Oh,” Mitsuri breathed. “He’s harmless. I dealt with worse in college. At parties, guys would try to grope me or pressure me into sleeping with them.” 

“Shitheads,” Obanai said under his breath. She barely caught it, but it made her smile. His subtle, quiet jabs at others were easy to miss. 

“Tengen actually helped me a few times by pretending to be my boyfriend. He would flirt, but he never meant it. Just now he was acting. I’m not his type and he’s not mine,” Mitsuri disclosed. 

“If anyone, including Tengen, makes you uncomfortable let me know and I’ll take care of them,” Obanai offered. 

“I appreciate it,” she thanked him and they sat in silence on the rest of the trip back to her house. He parked in her driveway. She didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Do you mind coming in for a minute? I have your ACE wrap.” She was grasping at straws in her attempt to spend more time with Obanai. He nodded and shut off his Jeep. They got out and headed to her front door. She looked through her purse for her house keys. She looked through the big pocket and the sides. Shaking the purse, she realized her mistake. Her house keys were on the same chain as her car keys which were with Kanae. 

“So, you’re going to hate me, but I don’t have my house keys… They were attached to my car keys,” Mitsuri said sheepishly. “Could you take me back to Kanae’s?” 

“I can, but could you call them first? I don’t think they’ll be awake if we go back,” Obanai answered. “Sanemi is notorious for sleeping through fire alarms.”

Mitsuri pulled out her phone and tried calling Kanae. There were four rings and then it disconnected. She tried two more times. “Nothing,” she groaned.  I’m an idiot. She facepalmed herself. 

Obanai stepped closer to her, his hands in his jean pockets. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” he said calmly. 

Hundred times yes. She had never been inside his house or met the famous Kaburamaru. She wanted to see where he spent his days and nights. His sanctuary away from work, people, and the world. She nodded instantly, “Yes, please.” 

Obanai opened the front door and turned on the lights. Mitsuri walked in behind him. This had not been the plan. He was just going to drop her off, but then she didn’t have her keys. Obanai knew how to pick locks and could have easily opened the front door… except he didn’t offer to. 

Instead he gave her the opportunity to come to his house. He selfishly wanted her here within reach and away from Tengen. That man got under his skin as he flirted with Mitsuri so openly. Mitsuri said he meant nothing by it, but it made Obanai’s eyes twitch.

When they were bar hopping Obanai mentioned his regular trips to the gym with the buzzed woman to Tengen. Tengen had asked if they were fucking and Obanai nearly punched him. He'd been able to control the urge and gave him a curt, "No." The red eyed man wanted to continue the conversation, but he was distracted by Sanemi demanding to play darts. 

He was running on his instincts now. He’d been awake for over 24 hours now, unable to sleep so close to the anniversary. If he closed his eyes and slept he worried what he would see. 

He looked at the floor as he walked towards his living room. He found the lamp and flipped the switch to make it easier for Mitsuri to see. His couch was a light grey with one pillow and a black blanket thrown over the back of it. Militant with the harsh lines. 

Mitsuri followed him. “It’s so elegant,” she commented, her vibrant green eyes looking over the room. It was plain. There was a glass coffee table with iron legs. He would call his style sterile, militant, or monotone, but not elegant. 

“Do you have any clothes I could sleep in?” She asked. Obanai looked over what she was wearing. Casual t-shirt and tight jeans that looked like they had been painted on her legs. His mouth went dry and nodded. He was on autopilot as he went to his room and pulled out a pair of shorts and a loose shirt before he handed them to her. 

“There’s a bathroom just past the kitchen you can change in.” He pointed to the right side of the house. His body was normally cold, but right now he felt like he was on fire. He should have just picked the lock for her. Obanai went back into his bedroom on the other side of the house. 

He peeled off the jacket, shirt, pants, and socks. Obanai threw his mask in the trash. The smell of cigarettes lingered on the mask. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and spread out his toes. Under his feet, he felt every individual fiber of the carpet. For two minutes, he forced himself only to focus on his senses. The feel of the carpet, the sakura blossom and vanilla perfume, and the sound of cicadas buzzing outside. His mind was quiet for now after grounding himself. 

Obanai decided to take a quick, cold shower to remove the scent of smoke. When he finished he put on loose sweats and a black shirt. Sitting on top of his dresser was a pile of face masks, he grabbed one and hooked it over both ears. He wandered back to his living area. 

Mitsuri was sitting on the couch, braiding her hair on the left side. Her pink and green hair was already braided on the right. Something about seeing her wear his clothes made his chest flutter. His shirt was tight over her breasts, he should have gotten a larger top for her. He blamed his insomnia for the oversight. 

“Can I meet Kaburamaru now?” She tied off the left braid. 

“Yeah. His room is down here.” He led her through his house. He could not believe she was here with him. When he opened the door he saw the white snake at the edge of the glass. 

“Oh my god, look at him,” Mitsuri squealed and walked past him to sit on the wood flooring he installed months ago. When they first met he was terrified of telling her about Kaburamaru. Snakes were misunderstood creatures and people innately feared them. 

His friend lifted his head and assessed the giant woman with his red eyes. Obanai crouched down next to her and reached out for the albino snake. Slowly, he circled up Obanai’s arm and then his neck. 

“He looks like your scarf and I can’t believe how adorable he is.” Mitsuri got down on her hands and knees before she leaned over to get a better look at the snake. His breaths stalled while he ran his fingers over the snake’s spine, in attempt to calm himself. She lifted her hand up to Kaburamaru and followed Obanai’s example by petting his spine. 

“Can I hold him?” She asked as she leaned back to sit cross legged. He shifted his position on the floor and then looked down. The snake gave two flicks of his tongue consenting to the change. He used both hands to lift Kaburamaru over his head and into Mitsuri’s hands. He held his friend up until he felt Mitsuri had a good hold on him. One of her hands grazed his in the transaction, sending electricity up his arm to his spine. 

She beamed as she watched the white snake shift in her arms. His red eyes unblinking. All this time he’d been concerned how she would react to the reptile. Yet, here she was delighted to be holding Kaburamaru.

Tengen was right. She was cute. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, but she had been at the edges of his mind. When he saw her sitting in Sanemi’s living room he felt a wave of excitement. He’d bordered on flirting with her by complimenting her and offering her a ride home. Her energy and presence made him want to spend as much time as possible with her. Hence why he omitted his knowledge of lockpicking to open her house door. 

Her green eyes shifted from the snake to his bare arms, scars prevalent under the light. He saw her bite her lower lip holding back the question. Her face showed her emotions so clearly, another reason he liked her. Tell her a little bit at a time. Nausea passed over him, the worry that she would run away, Obanai pointed to two circular scars on his left arm. 

“These bite marks are from him,” he shared. The bite marks were easier to explain than the thin slices. Mitsuri’s eyebrows raised and moved Kaburamaru away from her face. He smirked at her swift reaction. “No, it was when I first found him. He was scared. The last person he saw tied him up in a plastic bag.” 

“I can’t believe some jerk would do that to him.” She frowned. “How can you hurt someone who’s so cute and sweet?” She held the snake up to her face. 

Someone, not something stuck out. He always referred to Kaburamaru as his friend instead of his pet. The snake showed more intelligence than the average five year old. 

“People hurt others they don’t understand or hold no value to them. Or they’ve been hurt and take it out on others,” he said. “He held no value to whoever did it.”

Obanai was not sure if he was talking about himself or his friend. 

Mitsuri pursed her lips and puffed out her cheeks. “Kaburamaru is perfect and I love him. If anyone tries to hurt them they’ll have to get through me,” she huffed. The corners of her lips narrowed, her jaw tightened, and her eyebrows scrunched up. 

Her adamant statement made him pause and then burst into laughter. She looked so serious, something he had not seen before, and he had not expected an outright declaration of protection for his companion. 

“Why are you laughing?” Mitsuri asked. He continued to laugh, unable to stop. “Why are you laughing?” She asked again, looking uncertain now. Her shoulders rounded and her back curved in. He shook his head, forcing himself to hold his breath to stop.

“I didn’t expect that response. You say whatever you feel and you’re just you. It’s refreshing,” he remarked. Mitsuri put Kaburamaru in her lap and held her hands in front of her chest. 

“Not always. You know the ex I mentioned? He and I were actually engaged,” she said, unable to look at him. “He had a lot of umm- unrealistic expectations for me and I tried to meet them all.” 

Obanai felt his chest tighten hearing her talk about her ex fiancé. Who in their right mind would let her go? “He told me my hair was weird.” She played with the green tips of her braid. “I dyed it black.” She looked down and petted the snake’s head. 

“I already said he didn’t like it when I lifted because I looked too masculine, but when I stopped.” She brought one hand to her lips. “He told me I needed to lose weight…I stopped eating or ate very little to make sure I didn’t get fat.” She looked up. “He critiqued the way I dressed and how childish I acted. I stopped painting and put away my eccentric clothes. I’d dress up like Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus.” He had no idea who that was. He would have to look up the reference later. 

As she spoke, his anger flared. Tendrils of rage etched across his body. A man who was supposed to love her made her change who she was. He nitpicked her and made her feel lesser for being herself. Obanai wished he could meet him, throttle him to the ground, and force him to beg at Mitsuri’s feet for forgiveness. 

“I was a husk of myself.” Mitsuri was quiet then waiting for him to say something. 

“I’ll say it again, ‘Fuck him’,” Obanai enunciated the last two words. His anger overpowering his usual restraints where he over thought every word. That matched with being awake for over 24 hours at this point. Mitsuri was better than anyone he’d ever met and if her ex fiance didn’t see that he deserved to get fucked. 

“Whatever he said about you was a reflection on himself. Too masculine, he didn’t think he was masculine enough. He said you’re childish? You’re authentic and creative. Your eccentric style means you’re daring. You’re not afraid to be who you are, Mitsuri.” Obanai watched her eyes as they softened. I adore you as you are.  

“You just made my night, Obanai.” She scooted closer to him. A small smile on her face. She was so close he could see the freckles over her cheeks. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out for her. He took the end of her braid and ran his fingers over the lime green ends. It was coarser than he anticipated. Her breath changed. “Your hair color suits you. Pink and green are bright, friendly, and unique. Black hair wouldn’t be you if that makes any sense,” he reassured her. Green eyes looked down at his hand holding her hair and then back at his face, blinking rapidly.

“I-it does,” she stammered out. “I’m not really sure what to say except thank you.” Mitsuri’s voice went a pitch higher than normal. 

“No problem. You should break up with your next boyfriend if he doesn’t appreciate you for everything you are,” he said and dropped her braid, letting it fall just below her breast. 

“Partner,” she corrected him. “I’m pansexual, so gender doesn’t matter.” 

“It shouldn’t matter,” he commented. She tilted her head. “I don’t have a preference either, but I don’t use a label,” he admitted. Before her he’d been positive he was aroace, now it was unclear. 

“I understand that. I went back and forth about mine in early college, but I found my attraction laid in someone’s personality,” Mitsuri confessed. He wasn’t sure how to respond and the room was silent, except for the heat lamp buzzing. 

“I should go to bed. It’s really late,” she said and glanced down at Kaburamaru on her lap. The snake nuzzled his head into the crevice of her thighs. Obanai had never been more envious of his friend than now. “Kaburamaru, it was a pleasure to meet you and I’ll see you in the morning,” Mitsuri said sweetly. She picked up the white snake carefully and twisted to place him back in the enclosure. 

He put his hand on his knee and stood up. The woman stood up shakily and he reached out for her arm to steady her balance. He froze for a second, acting on instinct as he brought her into his arms. His hands rested on her lower back, clinching her in place against his chest. Their height difference was barely noticeable when she sunk into him. Obanai could feel her warm breath on his neck as she leaned her head into his shoulder. The smell of her, brought him the sensation of sitting in a garden meditating. The anxious thoughts quieted when he held her. Her arms coiled around his upper torso and she sighed. No memories surfaced. There was no shortness of breath, chest tightness, or uncontrollable sobbing. Only the pleasure of basking in the sun.

Standing in the middle of Kaburamaru’s room holding Mitsuri was self indulgent. She let him. He wanted to ask for more, so much more. If he wasn’t careful he’d slip into a fantasy believing he could be with her. The black haired man released her. She would be ruined if he chased the sun. He wanted to devour her whole like the demon he was. The selfish, pathetic creature desired to blot out the sun and ensure no one else could see or touch her. It was possessive and obsessive and he loathed himself for it. Friends, we are only friends, he reminded himself. 

He stepped away from her and looked down at the floor. Obanai couldn’t make eye contact with her now. A mixture of shame, self loathing, and embarrassment filled him.  Who was he to ask her for more? A bastard with nothing to offer. 

His family’s blood was tarnished and ruined. He would be the last of the Iguros. That was a lie; his cousin was still alive. The last time he looked her up he had been in college. She moved to Hokkaido and was attending graduate school. She presumedly graduated by now.

One of his hands shook recalling what day it was. The morning of November 4th. Sixteen years to the day he escaped wishing to live a life without pain. Obanai nearly scoffed at his younger self. Pain and dread were commonplace, he never escaped, not really. Worthless, sad, and pathetic. 

Damnit. He shut his eyes and tried to listen to the heat lamp, Kaburamaru slithering in the sand, and feeling Mitsuri’s presence in front of him. She acted as a balm to his racing mind. Now he would remember the way she felt against him when they hugged. She accepted his touch, returning the comfort. He reopened his eyes at the sound of her voice.

“I really should go to bed now,” she whispered, but she didn’t move from her spot as if she was waiting for him to say something. 

“I’ll grab you some water and ibuprofen,” he said blandly. She nodded and walked out of the room. Obanai followed her out, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

Chapter Text

Mid-End of November 

Mitsuri: Do I have to dress formally for this? I’ve never been to one of these tastings 🥺

Obanai: Business casual.

Mitsuri: 👍 Thanks! Kanae said the Dojo serves Japanese food, but what about the other one?

Obanai: The Dojo has more traditional Japanese food while the Infinity has European style food. 

Obanai waited for a response, but it didn’t come. It was the last day of school since fall break was starting, so she had to be busy. He set his phone down on the nightstand before running his hands over his face and looking up at the bedroom ceiling. He had not realized he had been staring up at the ceiling for the past hour until Misturi sent him a message. His mind wandered, but there were no actual thoughts. None that he could remember in the fog he was wading through. 

His mind was disconnected from his body. Every move he made felt like it belonged to someone else and he was only a visitor. Even now, when his fingers ran over the scars on his cheeks, he thought they were someone else’s or at least he hoped.

 It was a defense mechanism to remove himself from unpleasant or overwhelming situations. He knew the emotions he had but he didn’t feel them. Not in this dissociated state. When the feelings came to the surface he became crippled and unable to move. It was better if he didn’t experience them. He had to be able to function. If he let them consume him he wouldn’t be able to move or work. In the capitalist hellscape, he had to work if he wanted to pay his mortgage and keep Kaburamaru fed. He was angry with himself for not doing more or being more in this state.

Ever since the anniversary, he felt more like the boy who escaped from the burning house. Back when he had been terrified of everything and therefore had to disconnect from his body. When he was a boy, he jumped when Senjuro and Kyojuro ran around the house laughing and hitting each other with plastic bats. Shinjuro had to stop their roughhousing until Obanai adjusted to his new living conditions. 

Now he was terrified of every emotion Mitsuri stirred in him. The desire, the tenderness, and the weakness. Somehow Mitsuri crept into his heart, making him feel more than he had in years. The way she looked at him with her large green eyes made him want to touch and hold her close. She shed tears for him after learning he had scars. He didn’t understand her. Her willingness to talk to him every day and make time for him was nearly unimaginable. 

Why would she give him any of her time? She was a far better person than him. Obanai wanted to see her smile every day. He wanted to be the one to make her smile and make her laugh. There was no greater feeling than hearing her laugh ring like bells. 

There was a softness to her that he had not encountered with other people. It was the first rays of light in the middle of summer. Warm, easy to miss, but always there. She also shared his nervousness when she explained her past relationship. Her ex had told her, she was the one in the wrong, that she was the problem. He gaslit her and made her second guess the person she is. Obanai hated that man. If he ever met him, he wasn’t sure what he would do and that terrified him. 

Mitsuri jokingly mentioned throwing away a pair of green striped socks because they were ugly per her ex. They had been her favorite and she could not find a replacement. He hoped she found them one day. 

His body was numb. Even his vision was blurrier than normal, as if he was walking in the early morning when the sidewalk was shrouded in mist. Even when he saw Mitsuri last week for a workout he’d been on autopilot. Obanai went through the motions, but he had been numb even in her presence. No doubt she had noticed the difference, but she did not comment on it. Even if she did there was not much to be done. It wasn’t her problem, it was his. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki had not been alarmed when Obanai saw him earlier this week. He reminded him of different grounding techniques and talking about the night he left his home. Bit by bit, he pieced together the components of the escape. Objectively, he listed out each part, but he dulled his senses. Dr. Ubuyashiki encouraged him to emotionally process each step individually. Once he pieced the separate parts then he could try to process all of it in order to prevent him from falling into a spiral of desensitization and dissociation. 

It seemed the same regardless of how he processed his abuse and his family’s demise. He rolled on his side and stared at the light filtering in through the sides of the curtain. Obanai pushed up on his elbow and sat up. He had to shower before he went out with Mitsuri, Kanae, and Sanemi to determine which caterer the couple wanted to have at their wedding. 

Sanemi and Kanae respected his recommendations for the two places, but wanted to taste them before they decided on one. He knew the owners of the Dojo and some of the chefs at Infinity. Both were respectable places, but it would come down to the engaged couple’s preferences. He had had their food before and each one had consistent and reliable staff. Either one would work well. 

Let’s get this over with. 

Mitsuri stared at the stack of papers piled on her desk. She had to finish grading handwriting worksheets and then put the grades into the online grade book for the parents. One of her students put bunnies ears on their capital ‘R’ to sign their name. Mitsuri smirked at the creativity and gave one extra credit point. 

She adored her job except for the amount of time it took to grade and then fill in the student’s ID number and put their scores into the grading database. There were also the parents who could be overly involved in their children’s grades and then blame Mitsuri when their kid didn’t get a 100%. Most times she could brush it off, the parents wanted their children to be best. In first grade, Mitsuri was more concerned about teaching and having the students learn their letters, write sentences, and do simple addition and subtraction. The grades did not matter as much as participation or learning social skills. 

She wanted her students to try their best and if they didn’t get it right, then they could go through and explain how to get to the right answer. There was a certain excitement in watching a kid’s eyes growing wide when they grasped a concept. Nothing could compare to  a child’s joy in learning something new and then sharing it with everyone that would listen. There was no greater accomplishment than teaching the next generation of children. She also wanted to foster compassion, care, and empathy with every student she had. 

She remembered the day she realized she wanted to be a teacher. Her second grade teacher, Ms. Susamaru, was explaining how the class was going to give a brief speech of their dream job. They had to list the education requirements, roles, and expectations and a typical day. Mitsuri told her she could not pick what to be. It was a hard decision for an 8 year old. The pinked haired girl had too many ideas just to pick one. She wanted to be a veterinarian, a coach, a nurse, a baker, a mom, and a firefighter. Could she do it all? 

“You can be whatever you want to be, Mitsuri. You decide your future and I know you’re going to make a difference no matter what you choose,” Her teacher said.

It filled her with hope to have her feelings validated in such a kind, encouraging manner. Mitsuri knew then she wanted to be a teacher. As a teacher, she could mentor children, educate them, give them unconditional reassurance and understanding, and validate their feelings. Innately, she cared for others. It was ingrained in her soul to help others, in particular young children  Mitsuri wanted to be the same type of person as Ms. Susamaru. 

All through her education, she never wavered her decision to be a teacher. Even when she suffered through the master’s program. The rigorous courses and midnight study sessions were difficult, but she never stopped smiling. 

Some of her classmates were grateful for her happy go lucky demeanor and others thought she was faking her enthusiasm and found her annoying. They would mock her when she raised her hand to answer every question or to pose her own question. It hurt to have her fellow classmates belittle her for her love of learning and the need to express herself. She would laugh along with her classmates. It made her self conscious. After one class she crawled under her blankets as soon as she got home and cried. It was humiliating to have everyone glaring at her, mimicking her high pitched voice, or excitedly waving their hand above their heads like her. Although, she tried not to think too often on the topic otherwise she fell down a pit of circular thinking. 

She put the grades in one by one and sent out an email to the principal, Dr. Amane Ubuyashiki asking to speak with her later in the week to discuss painting a mural in the cafeteria. The walls were plain white. They made Mitsuri squirm because they reminded her of a sterile surgical room. She could only imagine what the kids thought of it. Mitsuri turned off her computer and headed out to her car. 

Kanae, Sanemi, Obanai, and her had plans to try out two different caterers on Obanai’s approved list. Nichirin did not do catering, otherwise they would have gone with them. Although Obanai was probably relieved they didn’t. It would have added another level of stress if he had to be a groomsman and worry about how his coworkers could handle an event. They were not the most reliable group. 

Obanai would go into work whenever his line cooks or prep cooks failed to come in for a shift. He fired one cook last week when the cook came in three hours late without a call or text. The cook had been calling in sick several times in the last month and the last time he was seen at a concert the same night he was supposed to work. Obanai was rigid and strict when it came to his kitchen staff. He despised incompetence, failure to come in on time, poor attitude, and disrespect. 

Ever since she spent the night over at Obanai’s house, she noticed a change in the way she perceived him. When they first met he'd been reserved, honest, and shy, but now… He was so much more than what she had thought. He was the guy who made her feel like she deserved the world with only a glance. She felt she was worthy of someone who loved her as much as she loved them. Maybe even more. Someone like herself who was generous, kind, and earnest. 

When he called her daring, authentic, creative, friendly, and unique she felt seen. His voice was soft and smooth, making her think of a steam. It was as though she was a dandelion in a field of flowers, each one beautiful in its own way. She’d been so lost in admiring the other flowers that she failed to see her own uniqueness. Roses, daisies, and lilies called her plain, careless, and selfish like a weed. Until the stream beside her praised her bright yellow petals, tall stalk, and vibrant green leaves as the most unique of all the flowers. She was exceptional in her own way to him. Or at least that is what she gathered from his tone and words.  

Underneath all her weirdness and anxiety, she wanted to be the person he described. He made her think she could be. Then he held the end of her braid, playing with her green hair. She couldn’t help but stare, surprised by his tenderness. He looked vulnerable, sitting on the ground giving her furtive looks as he spoke. It was as though he crossed a barrier that night. Instead of avoiding physical contact, he sought it out. 

She blushed thinking of him holding her against him. It just felt right. There was no other way to describe it. The sensation of warmth spreading from her heart to the rest of her body. There was a connection between them she no longer wanted to ignore. She wanted to be near him nearly all the time. He made her feel more than anyone else ever has. 

Anytime she got a text or call, a giddiness filled her. Whether it was a witty remark or sarcastic humor. Her body was lighter when they spoke. Her body might as well be helium because she was bound to fly away. The way he always found her in a crowded room filled her with satisfaction. His two colored eyes focusing solely on her. She adored his attention. It made her wonder if her crush was not just one sided. 

However, Obanai seemed off when she saw him last week. He’d been quieter than normal. The smile he had didn’t reach his eyes when she told him about a kid who pretended to be a snake during recess. Mitsuri had thought it would make him laugh, but he did not. She wanted to ask him if he was feeling alright, but she did not want to pry. He would share when he felt like it.

Mitsuri could not wait to see him tonight. Hopefully, he was in better spirits. When she got back to her place she took a quick shower. In her towel she walked back to her room to decide on what to wear. Looking over her dresses, she decided to wear a mid thigh length light pink multi-colored neon paint splatter dress with leggings underneath. Her sister, Meesha, had given her the dress for her birthday this year and told her, “To knock them dead.” After she finished her mourning period for the broken engagement. 

The dress had a deep V in the front leaving little to the imagination for her cleavage. Maybe she would wear a tank top underneath just to be safe. She shut her eyes and danced on both feet debating what to do. 

Kyo always preferred her in plain, chaste  clothes. He asked her to donate or trash all her colorful, daring clothes like a dress embroidered with the nine planets of the solar system,the pants with the life cycle of a butterfly, and green thigh high socks. They were weird, but she loved them. In particular, she missed the thick lime green thigh high socks. She could not remember the brand and tried to buy similar ones, but they were flimsy and cheaply made compared to her socks. One day she would find another pair. 

She shook her head and slapped her cheeks, remembering to attend to the task at hand. Part of her felt self conscious about picking a dress like this, but it was exactly what she wanted to wear tonight. No one could tell her what to wear in order to maintain a certain image. Besides, Obanai had called her eccentric style daring. She had to prove it to him as much as herself. She threw on the dress and leggings without thinking further. Then she put on blush pink eyeshadow with black eyeliner to frame her emerald eyes and cover up to hide any blemishes. Looking in the mirror, she second guessed if she was over dressed and she was trying too hard to impress. When she was done dressing and putting on makeup, she looked down at her phone. 

Kanae: When are you leaving? We’ll be at the restaurant in 30 minutes. 

Mitsuri: Heading out in 5! I’m so hungry. 🤤

Then she pulled up her last message from Obanai. 

Obanai: The Dojo has more traditional Japanese food while the Infinity has European style food.

Mitsuri: I’m so excited for dinner! I’ll see you soon 🎉

Mitsuri was late. There had been an accident on the highway that barred her exit. When she finally found a parking spot she ran as quickly as she could. She thanked herself for wearing boots instead of heels as she had to run on cobblestone. Luckily, the weather was cool enough it prevented her from sweating significantly. 

The first restaurant was a hole in the wall. It was at the edges of the center of town in a small brick building. There were maybe eight tables total and then a room in the back for parties. She was directed to the room in the back where she saw Kanae and Sanemi sitting on one side of the table and Obanai, dressed in a thick black sweater and black pants, on the other with a seat empty next to him. He looked so cute, she felt her face heat up. 

His eyes found her’s, drawing her into him. She gripped her purse tighter, feeling self conscious in the dress she picked. There was no turning back now. His expression was blank, not even a raised brow. She bit the inside of her lip. He nodded in greeting while Kanae stood up and hugged her. 

“I thought you were lost, but I’m glad you’re here,” Kanae said and gestured to the seat next to the dark haired man. Mitsuri sat down, folding her skirt under her. She set her purse down between her and Obanai. His gaze followed her, but said nothing.  

“Not this time,” She laughed nervously. “There had been an accident right off the exit I was supposed to take, so I had to make a detour. I’m sorry I’m so late,” Mitsuri explained. She was 25 minutes late. “I hope you didn’t wait for me to eat,” Mitsuri added. There were already several plates on the table. 

“We didn’t, well except for Obanai,” Sanemi said plainly. Her green eyes looked over at Obanai. He was looking at Sanemi.

“I’ve had their food already and I ate before coming here,” Obanai stated. His plate was untouched, but she could see the evidence of oils and sauce on the engaged couple’s plates. With his scars, she should have known he wouldn’t eat in front of them or if he did, he would look away from them. 

“Oh,” Mitsuri said. “I guess I better get started then.” She grabbed a few pieces of sushi and a variety of teppan style foods. 

“We only started because they already had everything prepared before we got here and wanted to taste it fresh. I am sorry,” Kanae said, her light purple eyes looked down as if ashamed. 

“No worries,” Mitsuri smiled at her friend, “I would have done the same.” Each piece of sushi felt like she was eating the ocean, a hint of salt and the coolness of the fish and rice complementing each other. The fried food was a little cold, but the flavor was good. 

“How did you find out about this place?” Kanae asked Obanai. He looked in her direction, but not at her face. 

“The owner, Akaza, and I went to culinary school together,” he explained. “His wife’s father owned this place and gave it to them as a wedding gift.” 

“That’s so romantic!” Kanae said, smiling at the man across the table. He said nothing else. Mitsuri took a bite of the California roll in an attempt to hide her frown. She wanted to know what was going inside Obanai’s head. He wasn’t himself. 

A short woman in a traditional orange kimono with blue peonies entered the room. Her black hair was pulled into a bun and had an ornament with three snowflakes. She bent her head down, greeting the four customers. “How is everything tasting?” She asked the table. 

“Koyuki, everything tastes amazing, but I love the shrimp tempura roll,” Kanae answered, smiling politely at the woman before looking over at her fiance. “Sanemi?”

The man in question looked over at the woman dressed in a kimono. “It’s good. Do you have ohagi?” He asked brashly.  

“Not normally, but Kanae mentioned it was your favorite, so my husband made some especially for your tasting. If you give me a minute, I’ll grab them,” She spoke quietly and gave the man a small smile before leaving.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at Kanae. “If the ohagi is as good as the rest of the food, we’re going with them,” Sanemi affirmed as he reached under the table for her hand. Kanae raised his hand to her face and kissed the back of his hand. Mitsuri smiled at her two friends and out of the corner of her eye she looked over at Obanai. His hair was tied back into a ponytail. His eyes seemed to be glazed over as he stared ahead of them. He had bluish bags underneath them indicating a lack of sleep. There was definitely something off with him. 

Mitsuri would have to ask when they got a private moment. He was void of emotion. Of course, it was difficult to determine with half of his face covered. Even then his eyes were always expressive, but not now. She twisted her lips and made to touch his arm, but stopped when he started speaking. 

“The Dojo is smaller and has limited options compared to Infinity, but they will make every effort to customize for their clients’ tastes,” Obanai commented in monotone. Sanemi nodded unfazed by Obanai’s tone. Did he not notice the change in his best friend? 

“I love that they’re a small business too. I’d be perfectly happy if we served their food at the reception,” Kanae responded. Before she could say anything else, Koyuki came back in with a man covered in tattoos. They covered his hands, arms, and two bands around his neck. He had ebony hair and warm blue eyes. His appearance was a stark contrast to the small woman beside him. 

“This is my husband, Akaza,” Koyuki introduced him, her smile was larger than before and a hint of blush over her cheeks. Mitsuri wondered how long they had been together to warrant her shyness. 

“Good evening,” the man spoke in a softer voice than Mitsuri expected. He was holding a plate covered in dark to light brown ohagi rolls. Sanemi’s eyes went round when he saw them. The man placed the rolls down in front of the groom who was practically salivating over them. Mitsuri covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk at his childish reaction. 

Sanemi immediately picked up an ohagi roll and shoved it into his face. “Sanemi!” Kanae chastised him for his brash behavior. For a second his face went blank and then a wide smile spread over his face. 

“I’m sold. You’re catering our wedding. These are the best I’ve ever fucking tasted. I need ten to take home,” Sanemi confirmed their decision. He looked partially crazed as he grabbed two ohagi in each hand. Mitsuri snorted. He was so quick to make a decision. Obanai leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping on the table, and watched the Dojo owners. One finger raised at a time as he tapped the table like a nervous tick. Koyuki clapped her hands together before looking down in embarrassment. Akaza simply kissed the crown of her head. 

“We’d love for you to cater for our wedding,” Kanae said politely as Sanemi started his second roll. Mitsuri looked between the two. Kanae was raised in a household that held formal manners in high regard and Sanemi’s had been tumultuous from what she gathered. As Sanemi and Kanae discussed further details for the deal, Mitsuri shifted her attention to Obanai beside her. 

“When we’re done here could you walk me to my car?” She asked. He nodded solemnly, but said nothing, not even looking at her. Had she done something wrong? Her stomach churned at his lack of words. Was she bothering him? Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him to walk her back. 

“I’m going to go cancel the appointment with Infinity,” Obanai said and stood up, “I’ll be back in a minute.” He walked out of the room with his phone pressed against his cheek as he started a call. Mitsuri looked down in her lap. 

His voice was usually so cool and smooth. His words were terse but not unfriendly, but right now they were nothing. No change in pitch or tone. It unsettled her. 

The two couples discussed cost, setup, and the dates for the wedding. A minute passed and then fifteen minutes had gone by without Obanai returning. He said he would be back in a minute. She shifted in her seat. “I’m going to go check on him,” Mitsuri told them. Kanae nodded and cast her a look of concern. 

The pink haired woman went to the main dining area and looked out the window. He was outside in an alley across the street. He was talking to a tall blond woman in a red jumpsuit. They were obscured in shadows, the street lamp giving off dim light, Mitsuri would have missed them except the blonde was hard to miss in her bright clothing. The stranger was leaning into him. They seemed to know each other. The woman was tossing her almost white hair behind her. She was incredibly beautiful with large blue eyes and a slim model like body. 

Mitsuri grimaced while watching the two. It was obvious this woman was flirting with him. A wave of nausea passed over her stomach, flipping around. She didn’t want to stick around to see what they would do. Not when the woman’s head was leaning in closer and closer as they spoke. She couldn’t read Obanai’s eyes in the shadows. 

Mitsuri made her way to the bathroom and locked the door. She rubbed her elbow. Who was that woman? Why did she feel sick to her stomach seeing the woman flirt with him? She was so pretty. Much prettier than Mitsuri. She was so feminine with small hands and a petite body frame.

Mitsuri looked at herself in the mirror, uncertainty flooding her senses with doubt. Her hair looked like a mess, closer to a bush than the loose curls she had attempted to do. Her make up was smudged from her short run. One eye was bigger than the other. She had a sturdier build than other women. Her hips were too wide. Her arms looked too bulky in the dress. Kyo’s words haunted her then, You’re too masculine. You look ridiculous in those socks. He pinched her thick thighs that rolled over the green socks’ hem.  

He wasn’t here and he was gone from her life. She made sure to block his number and deleted all her social media accounts, erasing their online presence. She wasn’t sure how long she stood in front of the mirror staring at herself, diminishing herself.  

“You are a strong woman. You are more than your appearance,” Mitsuri whispered to herself in the mirror. Tears threatened to come down. She wouldn’t cry. Not here at least. When she got home she could, but not when Kanae, Sanemi, and Obanai were waiting on her. 

“Mitsuri?” Kanae’s soft voice spoke as she knocked on the door.

“Y-Yes?” Mitsuri asked as she jumped. She pinched her cheeks in order to prevent herself from crying. 

“We’re done. Sanemi and Obanai are waiting outside,” Kanae said. “I have your purse.”

Mitsuri opened the bathroom door to see Kanae holding her purse. She put on a smile and walked out. 

Obanai would never not be stunned by Mitsuri. When she walked into the back room she looked like a heavenly maiden. Her face was flushed and she was breathing quicker than normal from running. She was in a pink dress splattered in bright colors. It hugged her curves and the deep V showed off her delicate collarbone and the fabric draped over her breasts. Painters and sculptors would use her image as the goddess of spring and beauty. Every time he saw her she became more and more beautiful. 

Now he stood next to an alley after canceling the tasting with the host of Infinity. He was leaning against the brick wall staring at the ground between his feet. He was still going through the motions of existence, not allowing himself to feel. If he did, he’d crumple to the ground. All he wanted to do was yell at himself for being this way, empty and unable to grow. He was still the boy locked inside his room. Dammit all.

“Is that you?” A woman’s voice called out. He looked up, his thoughts broken as she approached him. She was a tall blonde with sharp, angular features. Her body was slim and petite. He’d seen her over a year ago. Oh fuck . He did not want to deal with this now.

“It is,” the woman purred with amusement as their eyes met. She stood in front of him and placed her hand on the brick wall behind him. Her dark red manicured nails looked like claws. “No one would mistake your devilish eyes. Iguro, wasn’t it?”

His eyes glanced where her hand was nearly inches away from his face. “Yes,” he confirmed. She licked her lips and flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. 

“It’s been over a year, right? How have you been?” She asked. Her deep blue eyes were predatory and he wanted to slip away and never see her again. 

“Fine,” he said stiffly. She blinked, surprised by his tone, but she leaned forward crowding his space. They hooked up in a hotel room after they met at a bar. He had more to drink than normal that night. It had been a bad day at work and Tengen was urging him to continue drinking. She was a consultant that traveled for work or something. It had been low stakes and he figured he’d never see her again. Fuck, he needed to get away from her. 

“Are you busy? I would love to have some company tonight... I have a room at the Tokito Hotel,” Her voice lowered, turning sultry. Her face was closer and her hand touched the side of his neck. Her touch made him feel slimy like she was trying to latch onto him. He grabbed her wrist and forced her hand to her side. He glared at her. 

“No,” he said. She pouted then, but stayed where she was. He had to fight the urge to push her away and run to his car. 

“Didn’t we have a good time?” She whined. “I’d let you tie me up,” she offered as she whispered into his ear. 

“I’m not interested. Back off, Daki,” he tried to keep his voice level. He released his grip on her wrist. He could feel the bile raise in his throat, angered by her and himself. 

“Oh come on, I’d let you do anything to me. You liked taking control,” she leaned forward and hooked one finger behind the elastic band of his mask. He dropped to the ground and sidestepped away from her. His mask was still in place as he stood up straight again. 

“Not interested,” Obanai spat pointing a finger at her.  “Why do you think I left before you woke up?” he glared up at her. Her face twisted in rage. Her red lips pulled back showing her teeth. Her gaze narrowed. 

“Fuck you,” Daki glowered. “You were hopeless in bed and I was only offering you a pity fuck, creepy bastard.” She turned away and flipped him off as she stormed off. 

Good. Now he wasn’t the only one angry at him. He groaned in frustration and pulled out his hair tie so he could run his fingers through his raven hair. This is what he got for being a piece of shit person from a piece of shit family. Fuck it . He pulled at the roots of his long hair. 

No. He could not do this here. He couldn’t break down now. He looked back at the restaurant where his friends and Mitsuri were inside. Obanai closed his eyes and released his hair. If any of them saw him now he would look like a crazy person. He put his hands over his knees as he leaned forward until he calmed himself. Five sights, four touches, three things to hear, two smells, and one taste. He attempted to ground himself. It would have to do until he got home. When he opened his eyes again he saw Sanemi walking across the street towards him.

“Hey,” his best friend said as he stepped up the curb. “You look like shit,” Sanemi had a shit eating smirk. Obanai hated him, but he nearly laughed. 

“You’re too kind, Sanemi,” Obanai replied bitterly. 

“I do what I can for you,” Sanemi sighed and leaned on the opposite wall. “You haven’t been sleeping have you?” Obanai shook his head, his sleep consisted of two hours of meditation and unable to reach the REM cycle. Sanemi shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“I know this month is hard on you,” the white haired man said. “You have people who care for you. Me, Kanae, your brothers, father, and Mitsuri. We’ll help if you ask,” Sanemi’s purple eyes were mellow compared to their normal intensity. 

“I know,” Obanai nodded. 

“But you have to ask,” Sanemi told him. “We cannot help you unless you ask.” 

Obanai nodded again and straightened his posture and put his hands in his pocket. “Let’s head back in,” he said and passed Sanemi. Sanemi reached out and put his hand on Obanai’s shoulder, stopping him. 

“Obanai, you’re my best friend. You were there for all of my fucked up family shit in high school. You’re not alone in this,” Sanemi squeezed his shoulder and then let him go. 

Sanemi’s father had been an alcoholic who beat his wife and children. He was eventually killed in a drunk driving accident when they were 15 years old. Obanai had only met him one time and it was enough. Sanemi got a job the week after to help support his mom and six siblings. Obanai spent many nights listening to Sanemi rant about his father or concerns regarding his siblings and mother. They would  take his father’s old glass bottles and break them in an abandoned parking lot. The abuse he understood and related to Sanemi, but the close blood familial bonds were foreign. He grew closer to the Rengoku’s, but even then there was no blood relation. 

“Thanks,” Obanai said quietly. He confided in Sanemi sparingly about his issues. Sanemi had enough to deal with and Obanai could care for himself. 

“No problem. I’m surprised Mitsuri didn’t find you first,” Sanemi put his hands behind his head.

“Why?” He asked and paused. 

“She said she was going to look for you,” Sanemi shrugged and looked over his shoulder at the shorter man. “She probably didn’t see you hiding in the shadows.”

Obanai hoped that was the case and that she hadn’t seen Daki. They watched as Kanae and Mitsuri walked out the front door of the restaurant. Kanae was holding a box of what Obanai presumed was ohagi. 

“Now that we don’t have to go to Infinity, does anyone want to go out for drinks?” Kanae asked. It was Thursday night. The bars would be less crowded than a Friday. 

“I should get home and clean up. My family is coming in tomorrow,” Mitsuri spoke up first. She took out her car keys and ran her thumb over the fob. 

“Oh right, what time are they coming in?” Kanae questioned.

“Around 5. I have a lot of cleaning to do before they get in though, so this actually helps. You guys have a good time though,” Mitsuri grinned at the three of them. Kanae pulled her into a hug and ran a hand through her pink hair. 

“I have work tomorrow night, so I’m skipping,” Obanai announced. Sanemi eyed him suspiciously. 

“Look at you two being responsible,” Sanemi stuck out his tongue. “Let’s go, Kan,” Sanemi pulled his fiancé’s hand and led her away from Obanai and Mitsuri. 

The pair stood there as Mitsuri fiddled with her key fob. “My car is this way,” She pointed to the right. “I’ll see you later,” She said awkwardly and started walking away. He matched her stride as he had agreed to take her back to her car.

“You wanted me to walk with you, right?” He asked. It reminded him of the times they walked around at night after going to the gym. Those nights were some of his favorites in recent memory. 

Mitsuri nodded, but didn’t look at him, “Only if you’re not busy. I don’t want to ruin any plans you have.” She would not look at him as she sped walk. Her eyes were blinking more than normal. She adjusted the strap on her crossbody purse and tried to pull the front of her dress together. Had he done something to make her uncomfortable? 

“My only plan is to sleep. I haven’t slept well in the past week," he admitted. Mitsuri looked at the ground, watching the cobblestone sidewalk before coughing. They walked in silence until they reached her lime green Beetle. 

“Thanks,” She said standing in front of her car. Her eyes were shifting, unable to find something to focus on. He saw her bite her lip. “Um, I don’t know how to say this,” she said quietly. “I know you have plans with that lady you were talking to outside. You don’t have to pretend.” She glanced up at him and then away.

She had seen Daki talking to him, but she probably didn’t see the whole interaction if she thought he wanted anything to do with the blonde. There was no way in Hell he would spend any time with her. She provided an opportunity for him to explore his sexuality or lack thereof. That was it. 

Obanai grimaced and shook his head, “I don’t have plans with her. We met up once over a year ago. She walked by and asked if I wanted to see her again. I told her no because I have no interest in her.” Wide light green eyes met his teal and amber eyes. They were glassy. He wanted to know what was going on in her mind. Why was she acting this way?  “When have I ever lied to you?” He questioned.

“Never,” Mitsuri answered. She opened her mouth and then paused as if she was trying to figure out what to say. She closed her eyes as she spoke, “If you did have plans with her or someone else, I hope you would tell me. I consider you a good friend and I want you to feel like you can tell me anything…” Mitsuri pursed her lips. “I also wanted to ask if you were okay. You’ve seemed off,” Mitsuri added and let her voice trail off. 

Emotions filtered through the fog. He felt the lump in his throat. The one that came anytime he felt close to crumpling. He wanted to tell her. To let her in and see him, but he was terrified of what she would think. She would see him as filthy, pathetic, sickly, and useless… No. He silenced the voices when she grabbed his hand. Her palm was sweaty. 

“I care about you, so if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here,” she whispered. Mitsuri meant every word. His doubts subsided for a brief moment, her words pulling him out of the fog, the prison he’d made for himself. She was always in the corners of his mind and if he told her everything she would be the center. Mitsuri made it seem so easy. 

She leaned forward so they would be in direct eye contact. He could feel water forming in his eyes. She cared for him and he couldn’t tell her the same. Not now. Maybe ever. He brought his head back as he shivered in the night air. Dr. Ubuyashiki suggested sharing small parts of himself. 

“Mitsuri, you’re right. I’ve been off for a while,” he swallowed. “I have-“ he shut his eyes not wanting to see her face if she was disgusted. “I struggle with-Fuck!” 

He wanted to hit himself. She didn’t need him to burden her with his bullshit issues. Then he felt Mitsuri squeeze his hand in reassurance. Her touch acted as a tether to the physical world. Her thumb grazed the outside of his hand as she intertwined their fingers. He stared at their hands before looking up at her. The reflection in her eyes was gentle and compassionate. 

“You can tell me anything, Oba,” she said, her voice soothing. “You’re my friend and I want to know whatever it is.” 

“It’s depression and anxiety,” he forced himself to breathe deeply. He waited for her to remove herself from him and tell him he was crazy and weak willed for letting these affect him. To say it was all in his head and if he drank green tea he would be fine. Instead she wrapped her other hand over the one she was already holding. 

“Thank you for sharing,” she whispered. “I’ve had my share of anxiety, but I know everyone experiences it differently,” she said. “I’m here for you, Obanai, whatever you’re going through, I’m here.” She was perfect. 

His heart was being squeezed and he couldn’t speak. He had to focus on breathing otherwise he’d cry in front of her. They stood beside her car not speaking as Mitsuri held his hand offering silent support. He wished he could rest his head on her shoulder giving in to his feelings for her. How could she be here with him? He didn’t deserve her kindness. Obanai removed his hand from her grip.

“If you ever need to talk about it, I’ll listen,” he said stiffly. “You should get home and get ready for your family,” he put his hands in his pockets to prevent her from touching him anymore.  “I should go home too.”

“I mean it. I’m here for you. Whatever you need,” Mitsuri reiterated her words, her green eyes vibrant under the moonlight. He nodded, unable to speak. 

“Well, good night then,” Mitsuri walked to the other side of her car and got into the driver’s seat. Something tugged inside of him watching her drive away. His fingers tingled as he made his way to his Jeep. The ice in his veins melted more and more with every interaction they had. Her brilliance shining down on a shadow. Eventually, there would be no shadow left and he would lay exposed to her. 

Her parents and two youngest siblings got to her house around 7 P.M. on Friday. The drive had taken longer than expected due to an accident on the highway in addition to construction. She had FaceTimed them and called regularly, but having them here in person was so much better. When she heard their van parking she threw open the door not bothering to close it. She ran up to Megumi and Hinata who were getting out of the backseat. 

“You’re here!” She called out. Megumi coughed as she crushed his rib cage by squeezing him too hard. He’d grown taller than her in the past four months. His dark hair was down to his chin now. Hinata was like a pillar towering over Megumi and Mitsuri at 180 centimeters. 

“Mitsuri,” Hinata greeted her warmly and joined the hug between brother and sister. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Me too,” the eldest Kanroji sibling said, giving them one last squeeze. “I bet you like having your own room though. Now you can listen to all of YOASOBI’s songs without me telling you to put earbuds in.” 

“You're not wrong,” Hinata said and nudged her head into Mitsuri. 

“I’m so glad you made it. Let’s get you settled and we go out to eat,” she let go of her siblings and went to the trunk to help her father unload. He gave her a quick hug, before Mitsuri took one suitcase in each hand. Her father protested her carrying the luggage in. 

Kanroji Benjiro was in his early 50s now and she could tell his back was acting up by the way he held himself. He worked as a maintenance technician for a couple apartment complexes for the last ten years and it was taking a toll on his body. 

Her mother, Fumiko, worked as an office clerk at a veterinary clinic. Neither job paid well and Mitsuri suspected they lived paycheck to paycheck because they had too much pride to ask for help. The least she could do was carry their bags in. 

“I’ve been deadlifting again, so I can definitely handle this,” she said looking over her shoulder to wink at her parents. 

For dinner, Mitsuri had been tempted to take them to Nichirin, but settled on a sushi restaurant a few blocks away. Obanai was working tonight, so she didn’t want to invade his space with her loudmouth siblings and parents. He would probably cook all of their food personally if he knew like he did for her and Gyomei when they went. It was a Friday night, so it would be the busiest night out of the week. She couldn’t let him get distracted by her and her family. 

Plus, he had enough worries. He admitted he had anxiety and depression last night. She guessed as much about his anxiety. Nearly everyone in their generation seemed to have some experience with anxiety or depression. It concerned her though. 

He’d been so hesitant to tell her. She remembered the tears forming when he told her. All she wanted to do was wrap herself around him and shield him from the rest of the world. A desire to protect and defend him gripped her. How was she supposed to protect him when the enemy was his own mind? It frustrated her. She wanted to hear his laugh again and see his eyes soften as they spoke. 

“Can we stop by a store?” Hinata asked beside her. They had taken her parents’ van. Her Beetle only had four seats. 

“What do you need?” Mitsuri made a grocery store run this morning in preparation for them. She had gotten everything that was listed.

“I forgot ear plugs and you snore,” Hinata said sticking out her tongue. Megumi was crashing on the couch while her parents had the guest room. Hinata and Mitsuri were sharing a room again. Mitsuri pinched her sister’s cheek, which resulted in a squeak. 

“I forgot ice cream anyway,” Mitsuri took the next turn towards the store. She parked and the Kanroji family piled out of the car. Her parents held hands and followed Hinata in search of ear plugs while Megumi and Mitsuri went to the freezer section.

“How are classes?” Mitsuri asked. 

Megumi shrugged, “They’re alright. School was never my thing. Sora, Jaz, and I have a show right before Christmas. You plan on coming home for Christmas, right?” 

“Most definitely! I can go to your show too,” Mitsuri confirmed. She was proud of her brother. He played the drums in a rock band. He gave her a small, secret smile. 

When they made it to the ice cream aisle, she saw a tall man with bright yellow hair with red tips. His back was turned to her and Megumi, but there was no mistaking Kyojuro. She ran up to him and hugged him from behind, “Kyojuro!”

The man she embraced stiffened and turned his head to look at her. When their eyes met she realized this was not the same man. Mitsuri released him and backed up into the glass freezer door. She bowed her head and could feel sweat collect under her arms. 

“I am so sorry. You look exactly like my friend. The red and yellow hair and the eyes. Please forget this happened,” Mitsuri said quickly. Her words ran into each other with how fast she was. Hopefully, the flame haired man wouldn’t be offended. Megumi stood further back, not wanting to be part of this horribly embarrassing interaction. 

“You must know my brother, Kyojuro. You’re not the first to mix us up and you won’t be the last,” his voice had a willowy quality. He gave her a small smile. His face was as red as hers. It made her feel a little bit better. “I’m Senjuro,” he held out his hand. 

Mitsuri clasped his hand in both of hers and shook it vigorously. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Senjuro. Your brother is the nicest person I’ve ever met. Whenever I see him he always compliments me. You’re lucky to have him,” she rambled. She was still shaking his hand and had to concentrate to release him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Megumi pinch the bridge of his nose in secondhand embarrassment. 

“That’s what people say,” Senjuro chuckled. “Who are you?”

“Me? I’m Kanroji Mitsuri,” she pointed at her brother. “This is my brother, Kanroji Megumi.” Her brother walked up to them and shook hands with the taller man. 

“My brother mentioned you before,” Senjuro commented, his eyes widening a hair in recognition. His red-yellow eyes were small fires compared to Kyojuro’s intense bonfires. He must be much more subdued than either brother. “He said you were special and I can see why.” The young Rengoku blushed harder and looked away from her.  

She opened her mouth. Special? Of course, Kyojuro would say something like that. He thought everyone was special. “He’s pretty cool too,” she remarked. “We just wanted to grab some ice cream.” Senjuro stepped out of her way and opened the door for her. 

Mitsuri reached inside and grabbed the first two containers she could, not caring about the flavor. “It was nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you again,” Mitsuri waved and turned around. Her brother trailed after her. 

“I’m Kanroji Mitsuri,” Megumi whisper mocked her and she blushed harder. Then he pointed at the nearest customer and asked, “Should I hug them? Maybe they’re Sora’s long lost twin.”

“Urg,” she groaned and headed towards the front of the store where she hoped the rest of her family was. Megumi was not going to let her forget this for a while. Maybe she hadn’t missed her siblings as much as she thought she did. 

Senjuro: I met Mitsuri at the grocery store. She’s so nice! :) you should invite her over to Dad’s sometime

Obanai looked at his phone during his break. Sweat was dripping down his brow from the heat of the kitchen. His bangs were pushed back as they kept sticking to his forehead. He pulled the mask underneath his chin as he entered the freezer to cool down. 

Obanai: Maybe. She has a very busy schedule. 

Senjuro: Oh… well, if she ever does have the time I’d love to see her again. She’s so sweet

Obanai: She is.

She was the kindest person he ever met. He wished he could give her one ounce of the happiness she gave him. When he woke up today, he felt relieved. He had told Mitsuri about his mental health conditions and she did not leave. Instead, she affirmed she would be there for him. His heart beat rapidly thinking about it. He switched over to his conversation with Mitsuri. He had barely messaged her today except to ask about her family. 

Mitsuri: My family just arrived! ☺️

Obanai: Hey. Thank you for what you said yesterday. 

Mitsuri: No problem! 🙂You mean a lot to me and I just want you to know that. 

Obanai: What you said meant a lot. Have a good time with your family. 

He paused.

Obanai: 😀

Mitsuri: OMG! AN EMOJI?!?! 😲

Obanai grinned. He switched to his web browser and typed, ‘Green thigh high socks’. They would make Mitsuri happy if he was able to find the right pair in time for Christmas. Maybe then he could give back a fraction of the happiness she gave him. 

Chapter Text

December

There was snow on the ground marking the third week of December. Mitsuri curled up in a blanket with Captain Sushi reading Jane Eyre for the 100th time when the first flake touched the ground. It caught her attention right away. She loved the snow. There was something tranquil about the world being covered in a layer of white snow that made it officially Winter time. Without the snow, it seemed like Fall extended until Spring arrived. She opened the curtain more behind the couch. The street light highlighted the large flakes coming down. Mitsuri picked up her phone and took a picture for her parents and friends. She sent the image out and put her phone aside. It was nearly 12 P.M. 

This Friday night she was spending alone. Sanemi and Kanae were having a date night. Obanai worked on Friday nights. Gyomei was volunteering for a lock-in for a youth group at the community center. The other teachers she had made friends with in the past few months all had families or partners, which left her alone tonight. Tomorrow night Mitsuri would be attending Tengen’s Christmas party. 

She turned her well worn copy of her favorite book over and stared out the window. The sight soothed her and made her appreciate nature. The powder started sticking to the sidewalk and her yard. Though she’d seen the snow fall dozens of times it never ceased to amaze her. Her mother told her each snowflake was different, but they accumulated as a collective to make a wonderland. Soon the sidewalk would be layered based on the increasingly larger flakes coming down. Time stood still it seemed. No cars drove by. No people walked by. Not even a stray raccoon or possum. By morning, it would be like she was looking through a snow globe. 

Mitsuri laid her forearms over the back cushion and rested her head down. Her mind slowed as her eyes followed a single piece of snow fall. She wished Obanai was here to enjoy this. He would appreciate it as much as she did. Since her parents and siblings visited she had not seen him. Their schedules conflicted with each other’s since school started again. She’d gone with Gyomei to Nichirin, but Obanai was only able to come out once to chat due to customer complaints. Plus, they couldn’t discuss anything beyond the surface level niceties. All she wanted to do was hug him to remind him he could rely on her for anything. 

Now it was Winter break. She was going back to Taitō to stay with her parents on Sunday, so she would not be able to see him except tomorrow with at least 30 other people in attendance. 

Since he admitted to having depression and anxiety, she wanted to ask more about it. He’d been hesitant to tell her to begin with. There was a stigma that surrounded mental health she could not understand. If someone had a cold or flu, people would sympathize with them, but if someone had depression they were told to get over it. Go and exercise. Drink tea. Get these essential oils. It made her blood boil. Just because depression wasn’t tangible did not mean it did not exist. 

In their texts, Obanai said he was seeing a therapist. He did not expand beyond that. At least he was seeking treatment instead of letting himself suffer. With time Mitsuri hoped he would tell her everything about him, scars and all. Patience was key. She would wait however long she had to in order to chip away his barriers. 

Simply put, she liked him. All his positive qualities outweighed his negative qualities. He was amiable, fair, and humorous at least when they were alone. She recalled the way he acted in bigger groups like the engagement party. He had stayed for maybe 30 minutes and made a reasonable excuse to leave. She had hardly seen him in a party since. Obanai had gone out to celebrate Tengen’s birthday, but other than that, nothing. He said he would be attending Tengen’s party tomorrow night. If his anxiety got the better of him, she would try to lead him away from others and guard him. It was the least she could do for all the assistance he’d given her…

She glanced down at her phone in hopes of seeing his name displayed on her screen. His name changed to ‘Iguro Oba 😀’ in honor of his first emoji. One day his contact name might just be ‘😀🐍💜’, which made her smile. He would be horrified by it. 

Two notifications popped up. One from her sister, Meesha, admiring the snow and another from another teacher, Mrs. Naho Takada. She sent a picture of her son sticking out his tongue to taste the snow. None from her favorite chef. 

Mitsuri: Let me know when you get here. I don’t want to walk in alone 😬

She sat back in her seat and looked outside. It was dark, nearly 9 P.M., but Tengen’s house was covered in bright white Christmas lights. It was the flashiest out of all the houses on the street with seven different lawn ornaments that resembled crystal globes. Each one was lit up in a different color. She nearly missed the white Jeep driving because she was memorized by the decor. The hedges Tengen was so proud of lost their leaves, barren in preparation for Winter. 

Obanai: Here

She opened her car door and heard her feet crunch the snow as she stood up. It was maybe -6.5°C with a windchill. The cold cut through her mittens and jeans and she winced briefly. Mitsuri breathed on her mitten covered hands trying to get warm. Her feet and hands always seemed cold in the winter. She walked towards the Jeep where Obanai was getting out. 

She watched him intently, letting him set the tone. Whatever he needed right now she would give. Social gatherings sometimes made her anxious, but she knew a fair amount of the people coming to this one. Sanemi, Kanae, Tengen, and his wives were all going to be there in addition to their coworkers and other friends. 

Their eyes met. His hands were in his dark grey coat pockets. He was wearing a black beanie and his hair was down. He stepped up to the curb and stood in front of her. 

“Are you ready to head in?” He asked, his voice was back to normal. Smooth and cool like running water. That alone warmed her insides. His flat affect had been concerning.  

“Yes, it’s so cold,” She nodded her head and breathed on her mittens again. 

“If you need anything in there, tell me and I’ll help. Whatever you need,” Mitsuri said. He looked away and then back at her. 

“I only plan on staying 30 minutes tops. That’s about my limit with these events,” Obanai explained. “With Tengen they are rather flashy.” 

“Even then. You say the word and I will go into teacher mode,” she grinned at him. His eyes smiled at her and the joke earned her a raspy laugh. The one she didn’t realize how much she missed. Just the sound made her knees wobble. 

“Did you bring the pink slips?” He added to the banter. 

“No, but I can give out detentions and deny them recess,” Mitsuri expanded and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “If it gets bad enough, I can call their parents.”

“You’re terrifying,” the corners of Obanai’s eyes crinkled. He was back to being himself, at least with her. The most terrifying thing about her was her bubblegum pink and lime hair, so not too terrifying. 

“One of us has to be,” she placed her hand under his elbow as she turned so they would side by side. A small sign of her affection for him, he would allow that much. He closed his eyes for a moment before shifting his amber eye toward her. They walked in sync up to Tengen’s front door. Mitsuri knocked with her free hand. She heard laughter inside and Tengen’s booming voice. No one would be able to mistake him. Beneath her hand, Obanai’s arm tensed as the door opened.

 A woman wearing a lavender sweater and a high black ponytail welcomed them in, “Mitsuri and Obanai, I’m glad you made it.”

“Hinatsuru, thanks for having us,” Mitsuri stepped inside with Obanai and let go of his arm in order to shut the front door. Hinatsuru looked between the two with a wide grin. 

“I can take your coats and put them in nu-guest room,” Hinatsuru put her arms out to take the coats. Mitsuri shrugged out of her coat and mittens before handing them to one of Tengen’s wives. She had opted for a blush pink cotton shirt and cream knit cardigan with jeans. Obanai wore a white long sleeved shirt with two black stripes over the chest. Monochrome shades were his signature style. She couldn’t remember if she had seen him anything but whites, greys, and blacks. Maybe she would get him something colorful to match his eyes for Christmas. 

“Tengen and everyone else are down that way, if you hadn’t guessed. Makio is in the kitchen making egg rolls,” Hinatsuru laughed as she turned the opposite direction to throw their coats into the guest room. Mitsuri turned back to Obanai and leaned over to whisper in his ear so no one could overhear.

“I’m here for you,” she reminded him. She was tempted to kiss his masked cheek, but decided against it. Though she had kissed her friends’ cheeks in the past, it was inappropriate for Obanai when she had more than platonic feelings for him. It would be teasing herself.  

“Mitsuri, where are you?” called out Suma from presumably the living room. She gave the chef one last look before heading down the hall to the rest of the party. Obanai followed beside her. 

There were several definite groups between those in the kitchen and living room. Everywhere she looked the decorations were a mixture of jewel tones, golds, and silvers. It was closer to a New Years’ theme than Christmas. Obanai had been right when he called the affair flashy. It physically hurt her eyes from all the lights and took a moment to adjust to after walking in from the outside. There was also a tall white Christmas tree in front of the bay windows. 

Kanae and Suma were chatting with a younger man with a large scar on the left side of his forehead and a different man with bluish black shoulder length hair. The second guy in particular was pretty with green eyes. He was the type of person who made others do a double take if they passed him in the street. 

“Mitsuri!” Kanae grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her towards their group. Based on her high pitch, she’d been drinking for a while. The pinked haired woman gasped surprised by Kanae’s sudden action and glanced over her shoulder to her crush.

“Have fun,” he said and then looked towards the kitchen where Mitsuri could hear Kyojuro’s loud voice. His shoulders were rigid as he made his way to the other room. It made her feel better about leaving him to own devices since the firefighter was here. Obanai would be alright with his brother, she hoped. 

“You too,” she mouthed, flashing him a smile before turning to Kanae, Suma, and the men. The man with the scar was Tanjiro and the other was Inosuke. Tanjiro worked with Makio at a nonprofit for disabled veterans and Inosuke worked with Tengen as an event coordinator for the city. 

“Ahh, Tengen was right. You look always look adorable,” Suma grabbed Mitsuri’s hand. She was the most sensitive out of Tengen’s wives and cried easily. “If I ever have a baby girl I want her to be as cute as you.” Mitsuri tucked a strand of hair behind her ear at the woman’s admiration. 

“This is Mitsuri, my maid of honor and best friend,” Kanae introduced her. “Tanjiro and Inosuke went to school with Kanao,” Kanae added. Inosuke was eating from a large plate of food he was holding. He didn’t seem to notice what he grabbed and ended up dipping an egg roll in ranch dressing. Mitsuri inwardly cringed thinking of the weird mixture. She would have to try it before passing judgment.

“Oh, it’s been forever since I saw Kanao. How is she doing?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Fantastic, she’s finishing up her certification for QA evaluation and analysis,” Kanae said with a hint of pride. 

“I didn’t know that. I’ll have to call her to congratulate her,” Tanjiro said, his maroon eyes flashed. 

“She doesn’t like talking about herself much,” Kanae supplied. “She’s always been quiet.”

“I’ve found the quietest people have the loudest minds. They might not say much but when they do you should listen,” Tanjiro commented. “Kanao always had something insightful to say when we took a history class together.”

Inosuke was staring in the direction of the kitchen. He smelled the air and then grinned like a devil. The scent of fried food drifted in and he charged.

“Those egg rolls are mine!” he yelled. 

Tanjiro stared after him and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s not as quiet and he’s very passionate about food,” he laughed. 

“I mean, same,” Mitsuri said, which made Tanjiro laugh more. She glanced at the clock and realized she had been there for 20 minutes. Obanai said he’d leave after 30 minutes. “I’m hungry too,” she excused herself and headed towards the kitchen. 

She spotted Obanai in a corner standing next to Kyojuro and a few others she did not know. His dual colored eyes found her instantly. His pupils were dilated and his crossed arms were tense. 

“Mitsuri,” Kyojuro called and waved her over. Before she made her way over, she quickly grabbed some egg rolls and sweet chili sauce. Makio was piling them on a serving plate while Inosuke attempted to take every roll she served.

 “Back off. These are for everyone,” Makio slapped Inosuke’s hand away with a spatula. 

Then Mitsuri squeezed between Obanai and Kyojuro, brushing Obanai’s shoulder. They, actually just Kyojuro, were talking with an older man and woman who were Hinatsuru’s co worker and spouse. She smiled politely at the two of them and ate one of the egg rolls dipping it in the chili sauce. The carrots were undercooked, but the overall taste was decent. 

“If you don’t mind me saying, I love your hair,” the dark haired woman complimented her. Her black eyes sparkled. Before Mitsuri could respond Tengen yelled to grab everyone’s attention. He stood with two of his wives. Makio, unfortunately, was turning off the fryer and smacking Inosuke’s hand away from the food. Everyone in the living room and kitchen collectively looked at the polyamorous partners.

“I’m glad to see everyone is having a good time, but this is a Christmas party. As the God of Festivals, it is my duty to honor tradition,” Tengen’s voice resonated throughout the house. “We are going to decorate the tree, so if everyone will follow us,” Tengen walked away to the vast living room. Most of the party goers followed after the hosts. Obanai stood where he was and Mitsuri stayed with him, finishing off another egg roll as the people filtered out of the kitchen. 

“Mitsuri, I’m going to leave now,” Obanai said once they were alone. She saw his brow was sweaty and he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “You should go and enjoy the rest of the party with Kanae, Sanemi, and Kyojuro. Have fun and hang ornaments. I’ll talk to you later.” He started to walk away. 

She bit her lip. He stayed for the allotted time he said he would. She wished she had talked to him more, but Kanae and Suma had pulled her into their group. Without thinking, she grasped the back of his shirt. Obanai cocked his head around to see Mitsuri looking down at the floor, her hand holding his top before dropping it again. 

“Umm, sorry I didn’t mean to do that,” Mitsuri apologized. “I just…I wanted to talk with you before I left to see my family.” Her eyes stayed on the ground. She hated to ask him for things especially when it was obvious he wanted to leave. He was having trouble and she was being selfish. She only wanted to spend more time with him. Just the two of them.  “Nevermind, we can chat when I get back,” She smiled weakly. 

There were too many people he didn’t know. His heart was beating over a 100 beats a minute. He tried naming all the yellow items in the room and then the pink ones, but it failed to ease his anxiety. The decorations were overwhelming, the rich sapphires and rubies along the golds and silvers. It was too shiny and hurt his right eye in particular. He could feel the sweat on his forehead. Dr. Ubuyashiki asked him to pinpoint exactly what his anxiety was related to and what he feared when he encountered certain situations. Right now his lizard brain was overpowering any prefrontal cortex thinking. He needed to get out. 

He stood beside Kyojuro who was talking to a middle aged couple. The last conversation he recalled was about old Christmas traditions and where the ‘Yule Log’ came from. Obanai was hardly listening. He could see their mouths moving, their smiles, and their drinks, but he could not decipher the words. From his vantage point, there were three other groups standing to the kitchen all talking louder to hear their group. It was a cacophony of sounds, so his brain shut it all out. All sound was a garbled mess. Kyojuro shot him a glance, but said nothing due to the couple he was entertaining. 

Why can I handle going out to a bar, but as soon as I come to a house party I lose my cool? Bars were less intimate and therefore he could get away without being as self conscious. Most people were drunk or bound to be and cared little about the other individuals around them. At these types of parties, Obanai could feel strangers’ eyes over him. Judging his appearance, mannerisms, and words. He did not fit anyone’s expectations. Short, face mask, heterochromia, pale, quiet, and stiff compared to the tall, bright eyed, friendly, and welcoming man beside him. 

He wiped his palm on the side of his pants, trying to be discreet as he ran his fingers across the hem of his shirt. He glanced at his watch, noting he’d been here for 20 minutes. Only 10 minutes to go and he could leave. That was socially acceptable. Tengen had enough people here, he would not notice if Obanai slipped out. 

I’m here for you. Mitsuri’s gentle voice trickled in, past the walls of anxiety. He believed her when she told him that. He trusted her. As if he summoned her, she appeared in the kitchen to grab a plate of food. He watched her delicate fingers reach for the egg rolls . Her nails matched her cardigan, muted cream. She made her way over to his group and stood beside him with their shoulders touching. Her touch brought him to the present moment. How was she able to do that? His eyes didn’t leave her face. Her smile was a reminder that good people existed in the world. When Tengen took everyone except him and Mitsuri to the Christmas tree he finally spoke. 

“Mitsuri, I’m going to leave now,” Obanai said. He’d have to shower when he got home, erase the grime from his skin. “You should go and enjoy the rest of the party with Kanae and Kyojuro. I’ll talk to you later.” He got three steps away before he felt his shirt being pulled backwards. Fear seized him before he twisted his head to see Mitsuri holding the cotton top before dropping it. 

“Umm, sorry I didn’t mean to do that. I just…I wanted to talk with you alone before I left to see my family tomorrow,” Her eyes stayed on the ground unwilling to meet his gaze. Obanai turned to face her. “Nevermind, we can chat when I get back,” She smiled weakly. She was so quick to dismiss her wants and needs. Mitsuri didn’t want to bother anyone including him… He’d give her anything just to see her happy. 

“Hey,” his voice was soft. Her green eyes snapped up at him. “We can talk. I can handle a few more minutes for you.” 

He could see her blush. “We haven’t had much time to ourselves. Privately, I mean. Wait, that sounds weird. One on one time, you know to talk about what you mentioned after the catering tasting. I wanted to check in and see how you were doing,” she rambled. “Only share what you want. No pressure,” she added, shuffling her feet.  

His heart slowed. Usually around her, he was a ball of nerves that stemmed from his attraction to her. There was concern written on her face. She was referring to his anxiety and depression. It had been better over the last three weeks. His body felt like his own again, not a machine on autopilot. Ever since he told her it seemed like a weight had been lifted off his chest. She had not fled as he feared she would. Instead she was asking him about it. She was too kind. 

“Better in general. At events like this though… My brain shuts down,” Obanai said in a low voice in case anyone might over hear as he tapped the side of his head. “It starts racing with different things that could happen. I get overwhelmed and the anxiety takes over telling me to run away.”

“Is there anything that helps?” She asked, leaning forward. 

You. Of course, he cannot admit she helped him only minutes ago when their shoulders were touching. The physical contact brought him back to the present instead of being locked inside his own head. His growing reliance on her was pathetic. It left him exposed and vulnerable. Obsessive and selfish also described his attachment. It was his issue, not her’s. 

“Grounding,” He answered. She tilted her head in question. “I’m supposed to focus on one thing in order to stop the racing thoughts. Just now I was trying to list all the yellow items in the kitchen, but I did not have much luck.”

“Oh, do you want to list them together?” There was no malice in her voice. She turned her head and pointed at the oven. “Oven mitts and bees on the towels,” Mitsuri looked back at him waiting for him to add to the collection. 

He adored this woman. Her ability to simply accept him as he was mystified him. She took his insecurities in stride, never making him feel like a lesser person. Instead she made him feel normal. Where had she been his entire life? He wished he had met her sooner, just to be able to spend another minute with her. Friends. His mind sounded like a broken record at this point. It was obsolete. He wanted to be so much more than friends . 

“Your turn,” Mitsuri prompted him, breaking his train of thought. Obanai blinked rapidly and looked to his left where his vision was better. “Two coffee mugs and a banana” He pointed at the mugs pressed up against the fruit bowl beforelooking back at her. It was only the two of them here. 

“I ado-” He started, but then there were loud shouts coming from the living room. Mitsuri jumped up, startled by the sound. 

“We should probably check it out,” Mitsuri suggested. He nodded in agreement and internally kicked himself. He had been about to say something incredibly stupid. 

I adore you. Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your ability to make me feel normal. You have no idea how much you mean to me, Mitsuri. 

He had been blinded by her sunlight and believed he could reveal his innermost thoughts for a second. No, he could not tell her. She was a kind person, who treated everyone the same. He was no exception. Mitsuri would have done the same with any of their friends with anxiety. That was just the type of person she was and the exact reason he liked her as much as he did. 

He wasn’t worthy of her. Not in the way he wanted her. He was not worthy of anyone that way. His history was covered in fire, blood, and ash. Obanai destroyed his family. If he acted on his wants, he would destroy Mitsuri too. 

Obanai followed her down to the living room and saw the crowd of people hugging Tengen and his wives. Mitsuri and him stood on the outskirts listening to the buzz. Suma was holding a small glass ornament that read, ‘Baby Uzui Coming May 2024’. Tengen had her in his arms with the other two wives beaming. 

“Aww, they’re going to make such great parents,” Mitsuri clapped her hands together. “Don’t you think?”

“At least Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio will,” He commented dryly. Mitsuri tried to keep herself from laughing at the jab at Tengen, but failed. He left after that with a smile on his face. Making her laugh was enough, he reminded himself. 

Mitsuri: Merry Christmas! 🎄🧑🎄❄️ When are you going to Shinjuro’s?

Obanai: Merry Christmas! 4:00 Shinjuro asked for me to come over early for prep since Kyojuro and Senjuro are useless

Mitsuri: But Senjuro is such a cinnamon roll! 

Obanai: A cinnamon roll?
Mitsuri: Oh right, you don’t understand slang... It means he’s a sweet and gentle person 🥐

Obanai: That’s a croissant.

Mitsuri: There’s not a cinnamon roll emoji yet 😭

Obanai: You should request one

Mitsuri: You can do that?!? How? I have so many ideas!

Obanai: You’re asking a person who has used one emoji in his life how to request emojis? 

Mitsuri: …Hmm, you have a point. Time to search.

Mitsuri: Here’s the link to submit emoji ideas 😸 

Obanai: Oh joy.

Mitsuri: Cinnamon roll, dragonfruit, and sakura mochi are must haves 

Obanai: Those sound like wants, not must haves

Mitsuri: They’re must haves for me 👏Now I'm hungry. ttyl

“Merry Christmas, Obanai,” Shinjuro greeted his son as he pulled open the door. Obanai walked in carrying his set of professional knives in a roll and three bags of groceries. He looked up at him. 

“Merry Christmas, Father,” Obanai replied. Shinjuro’s hair had been as brilliant as Kyojuro’s ten years ago, but now it was duller, fading to a light grey. His face had worry lines from long nights working at the fire station before he retired three years ago. Now he spent most of his days reading old historical texts, traveling around the country, and researching his family’s genealogy. 

“Sorry, to make you cook on your day off,” Shinjuro walked into the small galley kitchen with Obanai and started organizing the groceries. The black haired man took off his mask and placed it in his back pocket. Everyone here and coming had seen his scars. There was no use in hiding them in front of his father and brothers. It was the only other place he felt comfortable removing the cloth. 

“It’s alright. We both know you and Kyojuro can’t cook. Senjuro can and would if we asked, but it’s not his favorite, so that leaves me,” Obanai said. He pulled out the potatoes and started washing them. “Besides, I enjoy cooking for everyone,”  he added. 

“Let me know what you need help with,” Shinjuro offered. Obanai directed him to peel potatoes, chop them up and place them in a pot of cold water to prevent them from browning. He unrolled his knives and started deboning and shedding the fat from the chicken before throwing it in batter to be fried later. His knives were getting dull and he would have to sharpen them. The paring knife would have to be replaced soon. 

Shinjuro and Obanai worked in silence only speaking when necessary to coordinate each other’s movement around the small kitchen. An hour in, Senjuro and Kyojuro showed up. Senjuro took over Shinjuro’s assistant position while Kyojuro stole Shinjuro away to set the table and make drinks. Shinjuro refrained from drinking any type of alcohol while Kyojuro and Senjuro each had a glass of bourbon. 

When they finished cooking, Obanai stared at the fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and other side dishes. It amused him to look how much food was made compared to the amount of time it took to create. He sat beside Senjuro and Kyojuro and Shinjuro sat on the opposite side. The Rengoku’s and himself sent silent prayers up to the Heavens thanking those who passed for the food. There was a photo of Ruka on the mantle observing her family. 

“I heard Mr. Urokodaki plans on retiring soon,” Shinjuro looked over at Obanai. Mr. Urokodaki was the Head Chef at Nichirin. “He said he wants to move to be closer to his grandchildren.” 

“He’s going to retire in May after his 65th birthday,” Obanai commented. 

“Does that mean you’ll be promoted to Head Chef then?” Senjuro asked. Obanai took a bite of  mashed potatoes. The owner asked if he would be willing to take the position once Chef Urokodaki disclosed he was leaving, however Obanai had not given a definite answer. There would be more pressure and responsibility placed upon him if he took the role. 

“I was asked,” He said non-committedly. Senjuro raised a brow and shared a look with Shinjuro.

“And you said, ‘Yes’, right?” Kyojuro asked, swallowing his last bite. 

“Not exactly,” Obanai answered. 

“What do you mean by that?” Kyojuro put another piece of chicken on his plate. 

Obanai put down his chopsticks, lining them up with the side of the plate. “I told the owner I would think about it,” He said. “I’m not sure if I want the position. I enjoy working as the Sous Chef. If I became Head Chef I would be at the restaurant nearly every day. There would be added responsibilities where I would have to design the menu, set up deals with suppliers, and take a step back from the day to day running of the kitchen.”

“Don’t you do all of that already?” Kyojuro asked. 

“Yes, but only when he isn’t there. Plus, there has been an influx of customers ever since Nichirin was featured on Rokuro’s food blog, so there’s more pressure than ever to be seen as the best,” Obanai explained. There was talk of opening up a new location as well. If he were to take the promotion he would be expected to train the new kitchen staff at that location and then manage it for an extended amount of time. If that location was far away he would be expected to leave for a few months. He would not handle the change well. Discussion of expanding was currently a secret and he couldn’t tell his family about his other concerns. 

“Don’t you want to run a restaurant though? Isn’t that your dream for the future?” Senjuro asked innocently. 

Obanai’s heart rate quickened at the mention of the future. Mitsuri had asked him months ago.  He still had no idea what he wanted from life. Not when it reminded him of his relatives who had no future. He had expected he would be dead by now and didn’t hope for anything past 25. Every year he lingered on earth was another reminder that his mother and cousins were dead. They had dreams and hopes and he burnt them. Obanai looked down at the tablecloth and traced the patterned lines with his eyes, grounding himself. There was no Ill intent behind his want to escape, he reminded himself. He only wanted to live...But he cost four people their lives in the process.

It was getting easier to manage his feelings of guilt and shame regarding his involvement in their demise. Objectively, he had been a child. They abused him on a weekly basis if he stepped on the wrong plank of their house. The house situated in the middle of their land, acres upon acres leaving them isolated from the rest of society. He had hardly left unless it was absolutely necessary like when he had to have his arm set in a cast and x-rays taken of his broken ribs. His mother jokingly called him a clumsy boy at the hospital. None of the staff questioned the bruises on his arms, legs, or stomach. They did not care about him, no one had except his mother and cousins back then. Even now he questioned how much the Rengoku's liked him. Obanai would never stop being a burden to others.

That was not true. He had made himself useful today by making the Rengoku's Christmas dinner. It was the least he could when they adopted him, tolerated his anxieties, and made an effort to support him. He glanced at Kyojuro. Only a few months ago he had helped him through a panic attack. Senjuro was a gentle soul and a good listener. Shinjuro had been the man to defy protocol and adopt Obanai from the beginning. Sixteen years had passed and they were sitting together eating fried chicken. The Rengoku's were Obanai's family and he cared for them as they cared for him, he reminded himself. He would give his life for any of them.

“Not everyone’s dreams line up with a career, Senjuro,” Shinjuro said, speaking up for Obanai. He was reserved and only spoke when necessary. His adoptive son appreciated him more for it. “My dream was to find the love of my life and raise a family. Even though Ruka isn’t here, she would be proud of all of you,” his father shared a look with all of his sons. “The only hope she had for you was to be happy.”

Silence followed Shinjuro’s words. He hardly spoke of his wife. In the past he grew solemn when Kyojuro brought her up in conversation and would retire to his room to sulk. Senjuro pursed his lips and Kyojuro stabbed his fork into the green beans. Obanai had never met her and could not comment on the past.

“You can talk about her,” Shinjuro said gruffly, acknowledging the silence. “Christmas was her favorite holiday.” Kyojuro and Senjuro looked at each other with uncertainty.

“Didn’t you meet on Christmas?” Obanai took the olive branch Shinjuro offered to discuss Ruka. It would easier for him to open up the conversation than either brother.

“It was New Year’s Day actually,” Shinjuro corrected him. “She was a customer at the coffee shop I worked at in college. I liked her from the moment I met her. When you spoke to her she listened intently. Ruka was engaged to someone else so we were only friends. It seemed like there was always something hanging between us though. Eventually, they went on a break and I asked her to go dancing and the rest of it was history.” 

Obanai felt his lips twitch trying not to think about Mitsuri. It was useless. He missed her. Mitsuri was genuinely interested in what he had to say and he was fascinated by what she had to say too. Even in the most mundane things like emojis, he enjoyed talking to her about them. It was nonsensical. 

He bought ten different brands of thigh high socks to replace her old ones she gave away. The last brand was thick and had navy blue stripes separating the lime green, which he hoped was the equivalent. Whenever she entered a room his eyes found her, drawn to her, a red string pulling him towards her. His affection for her was so far gone. He wanted her more than she would ever know. If he had actually been a Rengoku it might have been possible. Too bad he was a short, partially blind, weak man with an inclination for anxiety and depression due to his shitty upbringing.

His phone vibrated against his pocket. He pulled it out to silence it before he saw Mitsuri’s name and face appear. She’d set her icon on his phone as the picture from their trip to the reptile sanctuary. His hand hovered over the red decline button, hesitating.

“Who is it?” Kyojuro asked and his yellow-red eyes peered down at Obanai’s phone. Black eyebrows wiggling just to annoy Obanai. There was no use in hiding it. If it was anyone but Mitsuri he would have already declined the call. Obanai pressed the green accept button and held the phone to his ear.

“Mitsuri,” he greeted her. Kyojuro smirked at him. 

“Merry Christmas, Mitsuri!” His younger brother called out loud enough for her to hear. Obanai glared at Kyojuro. Shinjuro looked between the two men confused by the interaction. 

“Oh, I thought you’d be done by now, sorry. I can call back later,” Mitsuri said flustered. He could hear the sharp intake of breath as she prepared to end the call. It was nearly 9 P.M.

“No, you’re good. Give me a second,” he replied and scooted back in the chair before standing up. “I’ll be back,” he whispered to his family and walked out of the room. He went upstairs to his old bedroom. There was a twin bed and old posters of bands adorning the walls. Several of bands he no longer listened to because the singers or bandmates ended up being assholes. The walls were off-white, which had been his favorite color-No, shade at the time Shinjuro asked if he wanted to paint his bedroom to make it his space.

“What did you call for?” He asked, sitting down on the edge before lying back. It was easier to talk to someone when he didn’t have to focus on their body language. 

“I wanted to set up a time to meet when I got back to exchange gifts. I’ll be back on the 30th,” she said. Mitsuri could have just texted. He already had it marked on his calendar of when she would return. 

“I work the 30th and you probably have plans for New Year’s Eve, so the 1st or 2nd?” He suggested. 

“I don’t have plans for New Year’s Eve, actually,” Mitsuri said. Her voice was light. “So do you want to spend it together? We can eat soba and stay up until midnight!” 

“Sure,” he confirmed their plans. She seemed so happy to be making plans with him. He would never understand her willingness to be around him. Objectively, he was dull, quiet, dark humored, and awkward. 

“Yay! I’ll let you get back to your family, but I missed your voice so I wanted to call. Wish everyone Merry Christmas from me,” he could tell she was smiling just by the sound of her cheery voice. 

“I will,” were the only words he could muster before he ended the call. She missed his voice? His heart fluttered. Every time they talked she would say one simple phrase that would leave him speechless. The irony this time was she missed his cool, reserved voice. He ran a hand through his long hair, the sensation calming him. He had missed her voice too, he realized.

Mitsuri came over around 9 P.M. on New Year’s Eve. She bought two boxes with her, one gift for him and another for Kaburamaru, which made him raise his eyebrows. He had not thought to buy a gift for Captain Sushi. She was wearing a gold and silver mid thigh skirt over black tights with a dark grey short sleeve blouse. Before they started cooking, Mitsuri asked Obanai to open the snake’s present. They walked into his friend’s room with the small box. String lights surrounded the room in an effort to be festive. 

Mitsuri was dancing on the balls of her feet as he carefully broke the taped seal on the white and silver wrapping paper. He took his time to ensure he didn’t rip the paper, so she could reuse it if she wanted. Her green eyes were so wide as he pulled out the snake’s gifts. There were three hats inside the box. One was a red Santa cap, another was a silver top hat with ‘2024’ on the front, and the last one was a black beanie. Each one had an elastic band underneath to keep the hat on the snake’s head. Her lips twitched, trying to bite down a smile, waiting for his response. 

He could not help but laugh at how silly the gifts were. “I know the Santa hat will have to be for next year, but I couldn’t resist. He’ll be so cute,” Mitsuri said, her voice rising a pitch. She picked up the red cap and offered it to Kaburamaru. His tongue flicked out twice, indicating he was a fan. Obanai tried to ignore the fact she hinted she would be around next year to celebrate Christmas with him. He could not read that deeply into her words. 

“It seems like red is his color,” Obanai joked. Mitsuri looked back at him with a widest grin and snorted. He would never get used to her enjoying his stupid humor. “However, he will have to wear the New Year’s hat tonight.” He reached down into the glass exhibit and the snake slithered up his arm to coil around his neck. His red eyes were focused on the pink and green haired woman. He had taken a fancy to her as much as Obanai, but Kaburamaru had the honor of burying himself in her thighs.

Mitsuri took the silver top hat and put it over the snake’s head. “He’s so fancy. You have to see him,” She took her phone out. “Can I take a pic?” She asked. He nodded his consent. She held the phone in front of her, her eyes narrowed as they focused on him and Kaburamaru. She did not tell him to smile, but he felt the corners of his lips pull back. He could not help the happiness he felt when she was around. His chest felt light seeing her obvious delight seeing the white corn snake with a silver hat. 

When she was done, she turned her phone over to show him the image. Kaburamaru coiled around his neck loosely, his head lifted up to Obanai’s chin where his black mask provided a stark contrast to the silver ‘2024’ top hat, and Obanai’s half lidded eyes looking at the woman taking the image. Usually, he appeared cold and stiff in pictures, but his shoulders were relaxed, his two toned eyes almost seemed warm as they watched Mitsuri. Were his feelings for her that obvious? Fucking simp. 

“Very cute,” Obanai affirmed and then moved to take the snake off his neck. The teacher held up her hands. 

“Wait, I wanted to get a picture together,” She stood beside him and placed her chin on his right shoulder. His face grew hot at the contact. Over the past few months, he had grown used to her touch and craved it in any capacity. She snapped a few pictures before she removed herself from him. Mitsuri turned the phone around for him to look at the photos. He looked at the two of them on the screen. Her smile was so wide as she leaned into his shoulder and his head tilted towards her. If he had brought his head down, he could have kissed the crown of her head. Maybe in another universe he and her could be together. He looked away.

“I’m going to start dinner,” He said and brought Kaburamaru over his head. He placed Kaburamaru into the enclosure and headed to the kitchen. Mitsuri followed after him. In silence, he boiled the water and took the materials out of the cabinets while Mitsuri cut the green onions and measured out the sesame seeds, oil, and other ingredients per his instructions. He drained the soba and threw it in a skillet with the other ingredients before splitting it between two bowls. He placed the heavier one on the table for her and another on the island countertop for himself. 

“You’re eating with me?” Mitsuri asked, her eyes shining.

“Yes, but I am going to sit here. I don't want you to be disturbed by my scars and lose your appetite,” He explained, looking away from her. She grasped his hand, squeezing gently. 

“I won’t be,” Mitsuri said. “But I will respect your wishes.” She let go of his hand and sat down at the table facing away from him. She pushed her hair behind her back to prevent it from falling into her food. He hesitated briefly before taking off his black mask. Mitsuri would not look unless he gave her his permission. She had never betrayed him and he trusted her. He took the chopsticks and started eating the soba. He could hear her slurping up the noodles. 

“My family usually spends New Year's Eve playing board games,” Mitsuri started talking to fill the empty kitchen. “My siblings always say they want to play Catan, but after one game my parents force us to switch to Monopoly or something with lower stakes.” Her voice was light and airy as she continued talking about her family’s traditions and he ate as quietly as possible so he would not disturb her. The traditions also included a fashion show for the four cats they had. This year, Mitsuri had sewed a submarine for the oldest cat, Mochi. He suspected the fashion show was where she had gotten the idea to give Kaburamaru hats. 

“Are you done?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Yes,” he answered and grabbed his mask again. Obanai put one band over his ear and then the other. “You can turn around,” he said. She turned her head on cue. 

“Oba,” she said using his nickname, “one day I hope you’re comfortable enough to eat with me at a table.” The scars made him insecure, the incident behind them even more. They proved he was damaged goods and made him look like a demon. They would scare her despite her insistence she was unbothered by scars. Even Sanemi would grimace from time to time when he saw them unexpectedly. 

“One day,” he murmured, if it ever happened it would be years away. It was the same answer he had given when she asked to hear the story of how he got them. “I’ll clean up.” Obanai grabbed their bowls and placed them in the sink with the rest of the equipment they used. He would put them into the dishwasher later when Mitsuri left. 

She made her way to his living room where their presents were. He paused watching her sit down on the light grey couch with her knees tucked under her. Her gift for him rested on the glass coffee table. The gods favored her whenever they created her. From the top of her head to her feet, she was indescribable. Every bit of her spoke to him. Whenever their eyes met, he felt the tug on his heart where she had unknowingly settled. Obanai sat down beside her, making sure to keep a foot between them. 

“You go first.” Mitsuri grabbed his gift and handed it to him. His eyes looked between her and the yellow and teal wrapping paper. It was a light package. He peeled the tape off and set the paper on the table. She was wiggling in her seat, looking at him expectantly. He opened the box and pushed aside the tissue paper. 

Inside there was a paring knife made of damascus steel and a higher quality than his current knives. He had been waiting to buy it until he could justify the purchase for himself. He hated buying opulent things for himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him. 

“You said you needed one a while back,” Mitsuri said, shifting her legs beneath her. 

“I did, but this knife is very expensive. You didn’t have to buy this one,” Obanai countered. He was not deserving of this knife or her. This knife was upwards of 23,000 yen, for a paring knife. A paring knife.

“I wanted to, so I did. If it makes you feel better, you can always promise to make me more food with it,” Mitsuri teased, leaning forward into his space. 

“Thank you.” He felt himself blush at her proximity and forced himself to turn away. Obanai placed the knife on the table gingerly. It was too much. He picked up her gift. It was a small package covered in green wrapping. 

His palms were sweating as he passed it to her. Mitsuri leaned back again. He turned his head away from her, embarrassed by how she would react to the socks. They were a fraction of the cost of the knife. He bit the inside of his mouth as he listened to the paper being ripped apart. It was a stupid present. People always made jokes about being disappointed by getting socks for Christmas, she’d hate them. He had known that and still messed up? She would probably laugh and think it was only a joke and then ask for where her real gift was. Gods, he was stupid. 

“What are these?” She asked in shock. He could hear the disappointment already. He fucked up. The package dropped to the ground which made him snap his head back towards her. In one hand she was holding the green striped socks and she was holding her other hand to her mouth. Her lips were pursed. 

“You said you missed socks like these.” He gulped, feeling his heart speed up. This was where the other shoe was going to drop. “So I found some I thought would be like the ones you gave up. If they’re not the same, I bought a few others, but these had the best reviews.” 

“No, they’re perfect,” she said quickly. Her green eyes were glassy, caught in an emotion he could not read. Her thumbs ran over the thick fabric almost reverently. "I'll treasure them forever, Oba..." She held the socks up to her mouth, hiding part of her face. 

"You don't have to. If you rip them or lose them, I can replace them," Obanai said. "They're just socks." 

“I don’t deserve you,” Mitsuri confessed as she smiled trying not to cry, but ultimately failed. She held the socks to her face again.

Wait… she didn’t deserve him? As in she thought she didn’t think she should be his friend because of her own misgivings? No, she was wrong. He did not deserve her. He was an ugly, pathetic snake slithering around in the dark seeking warmth. Her sunlight made him weak. He wiped away a tear, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“If anything, I don't deserve you, Mitsuri,” he said. “You are too kind for your own good.”

Without warning, Mitsuri pushed him down onto the couch cushions forcing the air from his lungs with the force. Her entire body was laying on top of him. Her arms were tucked under his shoulders holding him close. He felt her breasts on his chest, her hips on his pelvis, her legs intertwined with his own. 

Despite all her training, her body was soft. His mind was hazy and the usual anxiety was absent. He brought one hand from his side to run over her hips up her lower back to hold her closer. He savored the way her body melded to his. Every inch and curve within reach. Tension coiled in his stomach. 

She lifted her head and propped herself on her elbows, so she could look him in the eye. Pink and green hair acted like a veil, sheltering them from the rest of the world. Her sweet vanilla scent intoxicated him, luring him into her. 

They stilled. This moment was more intimate than any other in his life. Her green eyes softened gradually as the tears slowed. Obanai could count the freckles under her eyes and nose. Her face was within centimeters of him, all he could see was her vibrant green eyes in the low light. With her so close, he saw a dark evergreen ring surrounding her pupils he hadn’t noticed before. Their breathing slowed, matching each other. Neither spoke worried the sound would break the trance. His heart fluttered. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

Mitsuri closed her eyes half way as he brought his hand to her cheek. He felt the heat radiating off of her, her light casting out any of his shadows. They laid there for what felt like minutes, neither willing to move or speak. His lips tingled, aching to kiss her. Her face was flushed, green eyes lingered on him, her mouth partially open, and her head began to tilt to the side. Did she-would she let him kiss her?

How was he supposed to resist her when it was so painfully obvious? All he would have to do was put his hand behind her head and draw her into him. He’d pull down his mask. Their noses would touch, hesitant at first before brushing their lips together. He imagined her lips to be soft and warm.

In the low light, she wouldn’t be able to see his scars, but she would feel them. Every ridge and fissure. The stiff, ugly skin marking his past demons. The corners of his mouth had prominent scar tissue since the wounds were forced open anytime he ate or self harmed. That thought sobered him quickly. He had been indulging himself. To think he had been contemplating a kiss with her. He moved his hand from her cheek through her long pink hair to wrap around her back and held her close. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his neck. It sent an electric shock down his spine. He wished he could be better, but he was stained.

“I can’t,” he whispered to her. He felt her freeze up. “I can’t,” he repeated, more for himself than her. 

This was all he could give her. He would not risk losing her as a friend. He would not stop at just kissing her. Obanai would take everything if she let him. He was a mistake. Nothing more than a skidmark on the pavement. His arms wrapped tighter around her. He hated himself more than ever because he’d never be able to be the person she deserved. 

“You can't do what?” Her question came out as a whisper. “You can tell me anything.” 

“I just can’t,” he said. There was silence before he made a decision. “Mitsuri, my past-” He ran his hand through her hair, gathering strength from her proximity. She ought to know part of the reason he was broken. Something, anything. It was his problem, not her's. She had to understand that. He wasn’t sure where to start. All of it was a clusterfuck running together. 

“I was abused growing up. My mother and my cousins would beat me. She was an alcoholic and blamed me for my birth father leaving her.” Obanai took in a sharp breath. “I was terrified of women until a few years ago. She hit me so hard once everything I see with my right eye is blurry.” 

He wanted to hold Mitsuri to keep her from leaving him like he knew she would. That would make him the same as his mother and cousins who clung to his clothes in his dreams. Their limbs holding him down, whispering for him to join them in Hell. Instead he loosened his grip on her back. Mitsuri lifted her head from his neck. Her eyebrows were drawn together and her other features softened. 

“They shouldn’t have hurt you. You were a kid,” Mitsuri said calmly. “I’d be scared of women too.” He looked to the left not wanting to meet her gaze. “Obanai, can I touch you?” 

He felt himself nodding and then her hand caressed the right side of his face in an effort to comfort him. “I care about you and I’m here for you whatever you need.” She placed her forehead on his right temple. This was enough. Her support and telling him she was here. It was so simple when she was near. Except it wasn't. He would never be enough for her or anyone else in the way he wanted to be with her. To hold her, to make her smile and laugh until she snorted, and to reassure her when she called herself a bother. 

He could not find the words to thank her for her kindness. His arms wrapped around her again. The shadow embracing the sun. 

They laid like that until he felt sleep claim him, the weight of Mitsuri and her vanilla-sakura scent overwhelming any other thought or misgiving about himself.  

Chapter Text

January

<><><><>

A breeze swept through the branches of the pink cherry blossoms. His estate has several cherry blossom trees. They had been planted by the previous Hashira that lived here. Looking out past the leaves and pink flowers, he noted the light blue sky and clouds. Kaburamaru was wrapped around his neck basking in the sun. He closed his eyes, absorbing the warmth as he leaned his back against the bark. 

Last night he had returned from a mission where he slayed several demons with blood demon arts related to ice. One summoned ice spikes, another froze the ground, and one that could encase their prey in ice sculptures. He was always cold, so it didn’t matter. There had been rumors there was an upper moon there, but the rumors had been wrong and he easily killed them. 

The people he saved gifted him with food and their praise. He did not take the food considering their circumstances. They were a poorer region and he could live off one meal for three days, they needed the food more than him. His relationship with food was complicated. The richer the food, the more likely he was to get sick off of it. When he smelled fried food it still made him sick as memories stirred. 

Snap! His eyes opened and his hand went for his blade immediately. He leaned forward ready to strike whoever disturbed his rest. Not only that, but would a demon get so close to his home without him noticing? 

A woman with pink and green hair looked up at him. She was holding a basket and her smile radiated her warmth. He relaxed upon seeing her. Everything that she was, called to him. Her presence, humor, voice, kindness, and tenderness. He cherished her more than anyone.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kanroji,” Obanai greeted her and made a move to lower himself to the ground. 

“Iguro-san, you can stay there. I’ll climb up.” Mitsuri held the basket with one hand and started to climb the tree branches towards him. Her lips were pursed as she focused on her path towards him. It was adorable. Kaburamaru slithered off his neck and went up the trunk to the next level of branches to give him and Mitsuri space. He reached down to grab the basket of food from her and set it to the side. Next he reached down for her. Her hand fit perfectly in his. Her skin was warm and he could see a dusting of pink on her cheeks from the exertion. He pulled her up to the spot on the other side of him. 

“I was so excited when I heard you got back. I was worried I wouldn’t get to see you until the next Hashira meeting,” she started talking as he twisted to grab her basket again. Hashira meetings were once a month unless called. “I missed you,” She added quickly. 

He paused, his eyes widened for a brief moment. At times like this he lost the ability to speak around her. It was so easy for her to say exactly what she wanted to without realizing what it meant to him. She meant more to him than he did to her. She was like this with everyone. Loving freely. It was natural as breathing for the Love Hashira. He wanted nothing more than to tell her he missed her too. He admired her and he wanted her to be his. Mitsuri was already everything to him. His grip on the handle tightened as he placed it in her lap. In another life, he could tell her every last thought he had regarding her. Not in this life with demons and his tainted blood. 

“How was the mission? Was there an upper moon like they said?” She started asking questions as she opened the basket. There was a container of sakura mochi, onigiri, and ohagi. Mitsuri handed him a plain onigiri as she took a sakura mochi for herself. He took the rice ball from her. 

“There was no upper moon. The rumors were wrong, so it was simple to kill them,” he explained finding his words. “There were three demons whose demon arts all related to ice and snow.” He pinched off a small piece of rice and lowered one part of his bandages to pop the food into his mouth. He rewrapped them this morning and the tie in back would hold against small manipulations to expose his lips to eat. She had the courtesy to look away when he pulled them down even though there was no way she would be able to see his scars. She would be horrified if she ever saw him. 

“Oh, that sounds kind of cool. Can you imagine if demons could use their blood demon arts for something other than killing humans?” Mitsuri asked. “I once killed a demon that was able to manipulate the growth of plants. If the demon still had humanity left, they could have solved all sorts of food shortages just by traveling the countryside.”

She was too hopeful for demons. He frowned. There was no such thing as a demon with humanity. Hell, he even questioned if people had humanity. Images of his relatives appeared in his mind. Most of them had long dark hair and teal eyes. All of them were ugly like himself. His cousins wrapped in expensive kimonos, jewelry, and other riches built upon skulls and bones. Their worship of the snake demon was absolute. His clan lost their humanity the minute they made a deal with her 300 years ago. 

“There will never be a demon that will help humans. Every demon needs human flesh to survive, there is no way a demon will use their blood art to save humans. It would be contradictory to their existence,” he stated harshly. His family was proof of that. Obanai took another piece of the onigiri. Mitsuri bit her lip and turned her head away from him. She was quiet then and he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence. Mitsuri was never quiet for long. 

“Once Muzan is dead, all the demons will die with him. We won’t have to worry about them ever again," he added trying to fill the void. Her posture was stiff and her face was turned away from him. Her legs dangled over the tree limb. She was wearing the green socks he had given her months ago. 

“Iguro-san,” Mitsuri began, her voice uncharacteristically solemn. “After Muzan dies, what do you plan to do?” He saw her playing with the lime ends of her hair with one hand. It was something she did when she was thinking deeply. 

He planned to die fighting Muzan. It was the only way he could ever make amends for the crimes his family committed. The murders, thieving, plotting, and other notorious evil deeds they had done over 300 years. There were no plans except for his demise. His bloodline would end with him and any taint that existed would be gone. He adjusted the facial bandages now that he finished the onigiri. He cleared his throat.

“None. I do not expect to survive. I’ll die to ensure Muzan reaches Hell.” Mitsuri turned her whole body to face him. Their eyes met. There was a fire in her green eyes. Her nostrils flared. 

“Don’t talk like that. You’re not going to die. I won’t let it happen,” Mitsuri ascertained. “I can’t lose you! If Muzan tries to hurt you, I’ll rip his arms off,” she declared with her eyebrows furrowed. 

His mouth twitched. He was not worth enough for her to worry about. She would not be at the final battle against Muzan if he could help it. Not because she did not have the strength or skill, but because he didn’t want her life at risk. Outside of the Corps, she had a family, friends, and other responsibilities. She had so much more to live for. 

“I’m being realistic. There’s nine Hashiras right now. We have not killed an upper moon in the past 100 years. They have not exposed themselves for so long or if they have they have killed a Hashira. The recruits are weaker every year. I’ve been a demon slayer for six years and besides Tokito, there is no slayer that could possibly reach Hashira rank,” Obanai said plainly. 

“You speak like you know everything that is bound to happen. I heard that Shinobu's Tsuguko, Kanao, is going to the Final Selection next month. She’s amazing and given time she will become the Flower Hashira,” Mitsuri countered. He recalled the quiet girl that followed Kocho around like a chick to a hen. She constantly flipped a coin to make her decisions. 

“You mean the girl who cannot make a decision without consulting a coin? No, she will never make it,” he determined. He bent his left leg, wrapped one arm around it, and watched her reaction to his callousness. Her face reddened.

“You’re being very rude,” she chided him. “Kanao has been through a lot and we have to support all our recruits and fellow slayers. Everyone has potential. It’s just a matter of what type of support they need.” Her cheeks puffed out in a huff. 

“Miss Kanroji, if she were to freeze in battle she would be a liability to herself and the other Corps members,” he said flatly. His world was made out of black and white stripes unlike the vibrant watercolors Mitsuri painted. It was another reason he cherished her. 

“Shinobu and her have been working on her reaction times and Kanao is doing exceptional. You should train with her before passing judgment,” she said. “I know you spar with Shinobu regularly, so ask to spar with Kanao. Her swordsmanship skills could match yours with time and practice. Please give her a chance.” 

Mitsuri laid her hand over his. He looked down at their hands. She squeezed his hand as if pleading with him. Obanai almost never said no to her requests. “Alright,” he agreed to her demands. 

“You won’t be disappointed,” she flashed him a smile before interlacing their fingers together. It was so simple for her to be affectionate. Mitsuri was like this with everyone and brought Obanai into the fold with her. He let her hold hands, hug, and touch him. No one else was allowed. 

“What’s your plan after all this?” He asked. Her face blushed. 

“I want to get married to the man I love,” Mitsuri said quietly. He bit the inside of his mouth. She had never made it a secret why she joined the demon slayers. “I want all of my friends and family there for our wedding and then grow old with him and our children, so you can’t die.” 

If only he could be the man she loved. Whoever she loved and married would be very lucky and Obanai envied him. This man had to be exceptional if Mitsuri loved him. 

He smiled at her. Her adamant wish for him to survive to attend her wedding was naive. He was not sure if he would be able to watch her be with someone else. Granted, he would never be able to marry her or have children. In the final battle, he would act as a shield and die. 

The rest of the afternoon, Obanai listened to Mitsuri talk about her last mission as if she had not sent him updates every week and her plans to visit her family on her next break. He loved these afternoons where he could forget they were demon slayers and pretend they were on a date. An afternoon spent with his love talking about nothing and everything. Pretend he was normal for once in his goddamn life. 

<><><>

Obanai woke up in his bed. He opened his eyes and saw only darkness. The images from the dream seemed so real. The details of Mitsuri’s hair and face were uncanny. Her outfit with the black skirt and button up shirt that was too small and left her bust exposed. It even included the green socks he had just gifted her. His unconscious was creating scenarios that projected his deepest insecurities and admiration for Mitsuri. It also decided they were demon hunters with samurai swords. It was comical except he could feel the ghost of her smooth hand in his. Obanai ran a hand over his face. This was getting ridiculous. 

Everywhere he turned Mitsuri was there, hovering in his mind and now his dreams. He groaned in frustration. It was never going to happen and his unconscious decided to fuck him over by introducing her into his dreams. 

Turning over, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand to look at the time. 5:23 A.M. He’d only been asleep for three hours. His lips twitched as he lowered his head to his pillow. There was no way he would be able to go back to sleep now. Not after that dream. The sensations, the feel of the breeze and warmth on his skin seemed so real. Not only that, but his feelings for Mitsuri were… Heightened. There were higher stakes considering they were demon hunters and risked their life on a daily basis. 

His phone lit up. He could not help himself as he reached for the phone again and saw her name pop up on his screen. He was a fool. Since they saw each other last on New Year’s, he decided to stop liking her. 

Mitsuri: I know you’re sleeping, but good morning! Sushi decided to knock his water dish over during the night, so guess who walked into the kitchen and got wet slippers? 🥲

Obanai: I hate the feeling of wet socks. 

Mitsuri: YOU’RE AWAKE!?! 

Mitsuri: Can I call you? 

He stared at the blurry ceiling with his right eye as he rubbed the other. It’d been five days since he decided to stop liking her and it wasn’t working.

Obanai: Yes. 

A minute later he accepted a call from her and put her on speaker. The phone rested on his bare chest. 

“Good morning, Oba,” her sweet voice greeted him. “Why are you awake so early?” 

He could see her now, looking at him with her bright green eyes, inquisitive in nature. No malice or hidden agendas behind them. Obanai was lost in her. Every time he tried to damper them, his feelings for her came back stronger. I had a dream where I was pining for you in a fantasy realm. We fought demons. Even in the dream I could not let myself lo- He would not finish that thought. 

“I had a weird dream,” he answered, his mouth was dry. Obanai pushed himself up in bed, so he could sit up and drink the water on his night stand. He found the glass in the dark and brought it to his lips.

“Oh, what type of weird? I had one the other night where I had to lift rocks out of a ravine, but any time I got rid of one, five more showed up,” she laughed. “I don’t even remember why I had to clear them.” He knew her well enough, she was probably tapping a finger to her delicate, pink lips in thought. 

“I was sitting in a tree with Kaburamaru and ate onigiri,” Obanai told a half truth. If he mentioned her in the dream she would want to know more. He was not ready for that line of questioning. There was some acknowledgment of their mutual attraction, but he was not ready to discuss it with her or anyone else. If he ignored it for long enough it would just go away, right? Besides, he was not going to act. 

“Hmmm,” Mitsuri voiced. “Was there anything else that was weird?”

“I was a samurai,” he added. 

“Oh, that sounds kind of cool,” she said. His heart froze. Dream Mitsuri had said the exact same phrase. Same tone. Same pitch. Same delivery. He must have heard her say it before. He shook his head. 

“I guess. In high school, I did kendo, but not enough to be skilled in it,” he commented. 

“My brother did kendo for a while and I think he still practices in his free time. I was part of the gymnastics and dance team in high school. I’ve always been super flexible,” Mitsuri said. 

Obanai bit the side of his index finger. He knew she was. One time she had been putting away her dishes and had to bend over almost completely backwards to catch a cup from falling. He stored the memory away. The arc of her back haunting him. There was so much he wanted to do to her to make her back arch and her toes curl. He grasped the sheets trying to contain his monstrous thoughts. It didn’t work. 

His past hookups seemed to enjoy themselves when he used his tongue… If they were any indication, he could make Mitsuri weep with pleasure. Blood flowed to his lower half thinking of her laying down on his bed. Her pink hair spilled out over his pillows like a cotton candy river. Her naked form laid out in front of him as he knelt on the ground to worship her. He watched her chest rise and fall in rapid succession and her stomach tighten when he kissed her inner thighs, slowly making his way to her warmth. His arms hooked around her thighs as he lapped at her core. Her taste was indescribable and her soft moans encouraged him to continue. He would suck on her clit and slide his fingers into her. She would be so tight and hot when he spread her open. Mitsuri’s hips would try to thrust to meet his fingers and mouth, but he would hold them down and tell her, ‘Good girls wait.’ She would sigh, her mouth opening in an ‘O’. Such a good girl. Then he would eat her out until he decided she could orgasm. Her thighs would tremble as she came. He would feel them vibrate against his face. Afterward, he would hold her close, playing with her loose hair until she fell asleep. Fuck, he wanted her.   

“I remember you mentioning that.” His voice was gruff and strained. “I have to go.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Obanai could not talk to her on the phone with these dangerous thoughts running rampant. He had to take a shower or something to manage them. Maybe he wasn’t asexual, not when it came to Mitsuri. 

“I suppose you want to go back to sleep. Sorry for keeping you up,” Mitsuri said apologetically, her voice becoming quieter. He hated hearing her sound like that. 

“There’s no need to be sorry. I just remembered something I had to do this morning. I’ll talk to you later, Mitsuri,” Obanai attempted to reassure her. He hoped his breathing and voice didn’t betray his intrusive thoughts. 

“Okay, Obanai. Sweet dreams.” He could hear her smile into the phone. He pressed the end call button and set his phone on the nightside. Tossing his sheets and blankets to the side, he set his feet on the ground. He had to do something about his stiff cock. Without further thought, he went to the shower to take care of his arousal with the image of Mitsuri’s body burned into his mind. 

Thank the gods he had a therapy session this afternoon. 

Obanai sat on the couch staring at the arrangement of sand, rocks, and fidget toys on the coffee table. It was his first therapy session in the new year. In his hand, he was threading the silicon snake he used over and under his fingers. It eased the tension by repeating the same motion. Some of the normal tension that was usually there seemed to be gone thanks to his early morning activities. 

“The last time we talked you mentioned your anxiety stems from expectations and responsibilities,” Dr. Ubuyashiki started. Obanai met his pale eyes and nodded. “Can we expand upon that? What made you pinpoint these as triggers for anxiety?” 

“Whenever I reflect on the anxious thoughts, I keep repeating phrases of what society expects me to do. ‘I have to stay 30 minutes’, ‘I need to know what to expect’, ‘I have to do this or that’,” Obanai started. “Whenever there is a set standard, I try to follow them. If I don’t follow the rules or meet the marks, my mind runs in circles or stops, my hands become clammy, my heart pounds, and ‘What ifs’ run a muck. I was offered the Head Chef position and I still haven’t given my answer to the owner. I’m concerned I won’t be able to take on the additional responsibilities without running myself down.”

Dr. Ubuyashiki leaned back in his recliner and looked at his notepad, “Who is holding you to these standards?” 

Obanai looked away, “Society.” 

“Did society tell you it had these expectations?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. What the fuck did that mean? Obanai stopped threading the snake in his fingers. There were certain rules of social, work, and other situations that were regulated by culture and the governing society. 

“No, but there is a whole study dedicated to the development, structure, and functioning of human society that outlines the expectations. You might have heard of it,” Obanai said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Sociology,” he enunciated each syllable for the psychologist, who smirked in response. The man chose to ignore Obanai’s snide remark. 

“So, no one specifically has told you what expectations they have for you?” The dark haired man inquired for clarification. 

“No,” he answered and frowned at Dr. Ubuyashiki. What was he getting at?  

“Obanai, no one expects you to be perfect. Sociology may give general guidelines, but that’s all they are. You are not expected to follow every bullet point. You won’t be hurt by breaking one. Humans are flawed innately. If everyone was perfect there would be no reason for psychology. Have you heard of it?” Dr. Ubuyashiki responded. Obanai frowned further. When Obanai did not reply immediately, he said, “Psychology is the study of the human mind and the effect of the mind on behaviors and vice versa.” 

“Thanks, I never knew,” Obanai scoffed. He deserved that for being a snide ass earlier. The other man simply smiled. 

“What I mean to ask is who is putting the responsibility and expectations on you?” Dr. Ubuyashiki questioned. He crossed his legs in the chair. Obanai took note of the black leather shoes and the stitching. It was easier to focus on it than his own psyche. He returned to slipping the snake toy between his fingers. 

During sessions like this, the memories made his brain partially shut down as a protective measure to not feel the pain from his upbringing. Dr. Ubuyashiki discussed it before and encouraged him to take one memory at a time to help manage the negative emotions. Obanai could envision his mother as his mind drifted. She was a short woman with long, inky black hair and thin lips. Objectively, she would have been considered beautiful with her defined brows and large, dark eyes. He could feel her blackened, burnt hands reaching for him, even now. All roads lead to her. 

“Like everything else it leads back to my mother, Iguro Tamami. She emphasized perfection. I had to be her happy, pretty boy,” he spat the last three words. Obanai fit none of those now. He was a weird, solemn, and ugly man. Heterochromia, short stature, sickly appearance, and the scars were not exactly attractive. 

Disgust filled him with thoughts of the past. His emotions towards his mother were complicated to say the least. As a child, he wanted her adoration, affection, and attention more than anything. Even if it was fleeting. She had been kind at some points when she held him close in a hug after brushing and braiding his long black hair like a cherished doll. 

She homeschooled him where he learned basic math, reading, and writing, but left him ignorant of the world. Hell, he could have counted on his hands the amount of times he wore a pair of shoes prior to living with the Rengokus. There had been next to no need for them since he was only allowed to leave the house if he was hurt. Shinjuro had to teach him how to tie his shoes when he was 12 years old. It was embarrassing to see Senjuro at age 5 be able to tie his shoes faster than himself. He felt sick. It seemed so trivial, but his mother had not even taught him the bare minimum to dress himself.  

His cousins would make food for him, though he hardly ate. He had been a sickly child, who had a difficult time eating the rich food they made. When Obanai didn’t eat it his mother would force him. He shivered at the memory. 

“There were certain rules I had to follow if I was let out of my room. I had to smile on command, tell her I loved her, and do exactly what she said when she said it. My entire existence was to please her. I could not go outside, watch television or read books without permission, or speak unless spoken to. If I questioned them, I would be locked in my bedroom for days. If I stepped out of line, she would get angry and take it out on me. Even if I followed every rule and condition, she could fly into a rage. I walked on eggshells anytime I was around her or my cousins. She blamed me for the abuse I endured.” Obanai paused. 

His cousins liked to play a game where they tried to see who could make him break a rule like talking to one of his cousins when they did not expressly address him. Supposedly, his mother was granted guardianship of them after their parents died. It was debatable if his mother was telling the truth or not, but it did not matter. 

“She put the blame and responsibility on me when I could never meet her expectations,” Obanai whispered as his hand froze, “I had been a child and she made me take responsibility for my own abuse. I deserved punishment for existing. How could she put that on me?”

It was fucked up. His mother had normalized and reinforced his fears. He lived in fear of her because no matter what he did he expected to get hurt. One of the ways he coped was to remain quiet and complacent with her demands. His eyes twitched. Her rules were impossible. Forcing him to act like the perfect child and then changing the requirements. Part of his anxiety stemmed from these impossible expectations she instilled in him and potentially the reason he thought he deserved next to nothing. He could feel his heart rate rising and forced himself to stare at the doctor. 

“Obanai, you should not have been put in a position like that. No child should be expected to be punished or be held responsible for existing.” His lavender eyes remained steady on Obanai. “You made good progress this session. Good work.” 

Dr. Kagaya Ubuyashiki gave a small clap, which could have been condescending if he had been a different person. Obanai respected him as a mental health worker and person. He bowed his head in acknowledgement and felt relieved. Then he recalled the feeling of his relatives' limbs pulling him down and the guilt related to their deaths. His insides twisted as he imagined their nails sinking into his skin and clinging to his body taking whatever they could hold onto.

“Dr. Ubuyashiki,” Obanai started before glancing at the clock. It was nearly over. “I have one more thought before this ends. I wonder if the responsibility I feel is related to the guilt and shame I have related to my relatives’ deaths. I cannot help, but think that if I was responsible for my own beatings then I am responsible for their deaths.”

The older man scratched something down in his notepad. “Would you tell a five year old boy he was responsible for his abuse?” 

“No,” he answered quietly. All this time he blamed himself for his abuse along with the shame and guilt. As a five year old boy, he did not deserve to carry the burden, no child did. He could stop repeating the realization. The beatings, the gaslighting, the constant need to appease her to manage her and his cousins’ emotions were made out of terror, not love. He did not deserve it. If he did not hold himself accountable for the abuse, how could he be held responsible for their deaths? It had been an accident. 

“I want you to write a letter to your younger self. You can write anything you want whether it is your dreams and hopes, your regrets, what should have been done or how your mother should have treated you. Write about whatever you want,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said. He set his notepad and pen to the side. His face was neutral. “I’ve had some patients even pretend to text their younger self. Emojis included,” he added. 

An image of Mitsuri appeared in his mind with her emojis in nearly every text. He smirked before grimacing, recalling New Years’ Eve. He told her about how he had been abused without going into full detail. They had fallen asleep on the couch together before midnight came. Mitsuri woke before him and tried to crawl off of him without waking him. He woke up. She apologized for sleeping on top of him, worried she had crushed him. He reassured her that she had not. The opposite was true, he liked the feeling of her body pressed against him. 

If he was a better person, one deserving of her, he would have kissed her that night and spent the rest learning every sound she could make with her sweet mouth. He would not allow it. She would leave or reject him when she realized he wasn’t enough. Mitsuri should be with someone like herself, not the opposite. 

Someone like Kyojuro would be better suited to her. It was not the first time he thought his brother would be a good match for her. They were kind, talkative, normal, and shone bright. A better man than him. No, not better, just different, Obanai was trying to not to compare himself to his brother or anything else. It never helped and only made him feel inferior. There were some aspects Obanai excelled in. Observant, organized, and reserved. 

“You haven’t mentioned Mitsuri,” Dr. Ubuyashiki commented. “You’ve brought her up in nearly every session since meeting.” Obanai looked down, staring at the stitching of the doctor’s shoes again. A shadow fell on Obanai thinking of how he spent this morning imagining Mitsuri naked in his bed as he pleasured her. He had tried his best not to sexualize her and then he did. Shame filled him. 

“We spent New Year’s Eve together to exchange Christmas gifts. That’s about it,” Obanai said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He needed to sort out his own feelings before he started talking about what he realized. She looked as if she wanted to kiss him. He still thought he was misremembering, but the look in her green eyes told him otherwise that morning. 

If he had no connection to her, he would not hesitate. If he felt nothing, it would be so easy to fuck her and leave. However, she was a close friend who he had romantic feelings for. It would be too complicated if he acted on these emotions. He could not do it to her or himself. His blood was corrupt and if he let himself slip he would end up hurting her. He’d rather be a friend than risk losing her forever. He would let her down if they were ever anything more. Let alone the complications related to Sanemi and Kanae’s wedding and their roles. There was too much risk involved. He didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“Glad to hear you two are still getting along,” Dr. Ubuyashiki finally said when Obanai did not expand. 

“Me too,” Obanai agreed and looked over at the clock. His hour was up. “I’ll write the letter,” he said as he stood up and left. 

Ms. Kanroji,

I am happy to announce you have received approval for the cafeteria mural. The board, PTA, and myself loved your idea. We will have to wait for the funding prior to beginning the project. If funding can be secured quickly, you could start painting after Spring Break in March. I am so glad you decided to teach here this year and I hope you will renew your contract for the next year. 

Best Wishes,

Dr. Amane Ubuyashiki

One attachment: Mural Concept Art Approved 01/07/2024

Mitsuri read the email three times before she kicked her feet under her desk. She had been waiting for approval for months. Dr. Ubuyashiki had mentioned these types of projects took time. Every detail had to go under a microscope before they could do anything. 

For the mural, Mitsuri had been careful to pick a design that was timeless. She decided to paint a forest that depicted the four seasons with deer, squirrels, raccoon dogs, foxes, and other wildlife. It would be whimsical and fun for the kids to spot all the different creatures. She took a picture of the email and sent it out to her parents, siblings, and a few friends including Obanai. 

It had been a week since the first of the New Year. Her mind replayed their night together. She had given Kaburamaru his hats, Obanai made her dinner, they exchanged gifts, and then she tackled him. When she laid her body over his, she thought they were about to kiss. His eyes were hazy, half closed as she leaned toward him. There was a buzzing in her ear. His cool hand over her cheek, caressing her face. 

And then she felt his body stiffen under her, there was a panicked look in his gaze. He told her, ‘I can’t.’ Where had she messed up? It chilled her as he trembled beneath her. Obanai held her so tight against him, almost afraid she would run away the minute he let her go. Then he told her about his family beating him to the point he was partially blind. When he drove he turned his head more than necessary to the right side. She assumed he was being extra cautious, not that he was compensating for vision loss. 

Months ago when she first met Kaburamaru Obanai said that people who hurt others had been hurt themselves. He had been talking about himself as much as the white snake. It crushed her thinking what he had to endure. He had told her one small part of it. 

She wanted to take away his fears, doubts, and memories surrounding his abuse. Unfortunately, the only thing she could do was hold him close and support him. What could she say or do that he hasn’t already heard from others? 

After her break up with Kyo she hated when people told her everything would be okay. Eventually yes, but at the time she felt so low and wanted someone to meet her at her level. Her mother, sisters, and friends all told her she would be okay. Kanae was just about the only one to say she would hurt for a while and she had every right to feel angry, betrayed, and depressed even though Mitsuri had broken the engagement. 

Obanai’s circumstances were so much worse. There was no doubt in her mind where the rest of his scars came from including the ones on his face she had yet to see. How could a mother look at her child and hurt him? He must have been the cutest kid with his slanted eyes and raven colored hair. Tears threatened to leak thinking about what he endured at the hands of his family. Night after night worried about the cuts on his arms and if anyone would see them. Even now he wore long sleeved shirts, sweaters, and face masks to hide away. Mitsuri wanted to be his shield. 

How did he get out of there? Who helped him? She knew he had been adopted by the Rengoku’s when he was 12 years old. Where had Obanai been before then? Was his mother and family charged with abuse and lost him? 

She had so many questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask outright. This was his story to tell. She couldn’t force him. It had already been difficult for him to tell her that much and his mental health issues. She laid her head down and looked at the new photos around her monitor. There was a picture of her family from Christmas and the other was the selfie she took of her, Obanai, and Kaburamaru….

“I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t,” his words echoed in her mind. Mitsuri wasn’t exactly sure what he meant still. He can’t what? Kiss her? Like her? She glanced at the selfie and noted the way he looked down at her. His eyes were soft with the hint of a smile beneath his mask. There was something between them. She liked him. What did he feel for her? She should have asked before she left that morning. Or maybe she had been making it up…

Instead of asking, she was too frazzled when she woke up on top of him. Her head resting on his chest with her arms draped over his shoulders. From what she could feel he had well defined muscle from all the lifting he did. Not bulky. He was lean and narrow. She had even hooked her leg over one of his hips and pressed herself into him. She blushed red at the proximity of their bodies. They had not done a single thing to merit her embarrassment. She tried to quietly remove herself from him, but failed. The rest of that morning she spent apologizing for being heavy and left soon after. She had not seen him since. 

This morning she had been emboldened to call him when he replied immediately, but he seemed distracted. It was probably just a lack of sleep. He made it no secret he had insomnia. Oftentimes, she would be waking as he was going to sleep. She ran a finger over the photo. He never strayed far from her thoughts. When she was with Kyo, she never thought this much about him or any of her previous partners. Obanai had slipped into her brain and heart without even trying. 

She sighed as the school bell rang, which ended her planning period. 

“I think I like the dusty lavender more than the dusk. What do you think?” Kanae held out two different fabrics in the dress shop. Shinobu was Facetiming, so she could partake in the bridesmaid dress shopping. Mitsuri was standing in front of the mirror wearing the dusk A-line dress that hit mid thigh with a chiffon ruffle at the hem. It was a V- neck line that flattered her figure. She spun around and the skirt twirled around her in a circle. In the August heat she would be grateful for the flowy style Kanae chose for the bridesmaid dresses. 

The dusk shade was muted compared to Mitsuri’s normal clothing. The dusty lavender had the same issue. “Would there be an issue if you went with something brighter?” Mitsuri asked. Kanae shook her head and requested the dress attendant.

The dress attendant pulled out a book of purple swatches, which she laid out of the high table. Mitsuri and Kanae looked over each shade of purple. Kanae held her phone over the book, so Shinobu could see. 

“Hold up,” Shinobu said as Kanae skimmed over the Wisteria fabric. It was similar to the dusk shade, but brighter. This would fit Mitsuri and Shinobu’s cool skin tones better. 

“That’s the one,” Kanae said in agreement. The dress attendant smiled at them and took the book of fabrics back. She mentioned she would come back for Mitsuri’s measurements in a minute. Shinobu had already sent in her measurements and would come to visit in June for a final fitting. 

“I am so glad that’s done,” Kanae sighed and sat down on the white velvet couch. 

“Me too,” Shinobu said. She was sitting at her desk reviewing medical notes and glancing at her work phone every few minutes. The short woman was on call for the hospital and needed to stay aware. 

“Are you still seeing that guy?” Mitsuri asked trying to make conversation with the younger Kocho sister.  

“Giyuu? No.” She barely looked at her phone. “I broke up with him last month.” Shinobu seemed unfazed. That was how she was. Kanae said she dated people for a short time, never getting close enough for them to see the real Shinobu. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mitsuri said. 

“He was starting to get clingy, so I let him go. Between my residency and the wedding, I don’t have a lot of time for extras. It’s better this way,” Shinobu said nonchalantly. Except there was a shadow behind her dark eyes. “He’s old news,” she added before talking about the doctor she was working with closely. 

The dress attendant came back and had Mitsuri step up in front of the mirror. She took her measurements and jotted them down on a sheet of paper before thanking Mitsuri and Kanae for their time and business. Mitsuri went into the dressing room and changed out into her street clothes. Light blue jeans, a dark maroon sweater, and black knee high boots. She threw on her blush pink coat and a white beanie to protect her from the harsh wind. Kanae was saying good bye to Shinobu as they exited the bridal shop. 

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat?” Kanae asked as they walked down the snow covered sidewalk. They huddled close with their elbows locked together. Mitsuri nodded.  

“Yes! Do you want to go Nichirin? It’s been forever since I’ve gone and I am craving their Saba Shioyaki with tempura vegetables,” Kanae said. They made it to Kanae’s white sedan.  “Is Obanai working tonight?” Kanae asked as she let go of Mitsuri to find her keys. 

“He shouldn’t be,” Mitsuri answered and opened the passenger door. Obanai’s last message congratulated her on the mural’s approval, but nothing since. She twisted her lips. “Usually, he has Tuesdays off and we go to the gym, but he had other plans tonight,” she commented. Obanai had not explained his other plans, but he didn’t owe her an explanation for everything he did. 

Kanae turned on her car and started towards Nichirin. “So, the last time I checked you and him were just friends, right?” She asked. 

Mitsuri glanced at her friend. “Yes?” She said, unsure of the answer herself. Kanae cocked an eyebrow in her direction. 

“Yes?” The dark haired woman echoed Mitsuri. She turned on her blinker. 

“So- like, we spent New Year’s Eve together. Umm. He made me dinner and we ate together.” Mitsuri looked at her nails and picked at a hangnail. 

“Ate together? That’s like second base, right?” Kanae flashed her a mischievous smile. 

“Rude.” Mitsuri stuck her tongue out while Kanae laughed. “We sort of ate together, I ate at the table and he ate at the island. The soba was so tasty. Anything he’s ever made always tastes better than regular food. It’s weird,” Mitsuri said. “Then we exchanged gifts. He gave me green socks to replace the ones I gave away when I was dating Kyo. And I sort of- Umm, I tackled him.” Her voice became a whisper by the end. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

“Tackled him? Over a pair of socks?” Kanae teased. She decided to ignore that. 

“My heart was pounding- Badum, Badum,” Mitsuri was rambling now. She was unsure why she added the sound effects. “I swore we were about to kiss, my ears went screee, and then nothing happened.” She could not spill Obanai’s secrets to Kanae even if she was her best friend. 

Kanae blinked her eyes several times and spared Mitsuri a glance. “Um,” Kanae started awkwardly. “Then maybe he’s not into you and you can just be friends?”

Mitsuri bit her lip. She could not betray Obanai’s trust and reveal his secrets. “I think I surprised him and he wasn’t sure how to react. I can be overwhelming sometimes especially when I like someone,” she replied. “He doesn’t like surprises and I caught him off guard.” 

“I hate to say this, but maybe you should not put all your eggs in one basket?” Kanae took the highway. “You've been single for almost a year now. Maybe you should try dating around instead of waiting around for someone you don’t even know likes you or not?” She offered. 

There had been no explicit declaration of his feelings, so technically Kanae was right. Doubt filled Mitsuri, unsure of how to respond. Obanai had not brought up New Year’s. Maybe he was trying to be kind by not talking about it and dashing her hopes. Maybe she had misinterpreted the way he caressed her face and held her tightly against him that night. Maybe he was trying to let her down easy by not talking about it…

“I know what you’re saying, but I don’t want to give up yet,” Mitsuri said. 

“I love you, so I don’t want to see you hurt again, Suri. Remember that girl you dated in college? You gave her so much of your time that you would ditch class when she had a bad day. Then when you asked her out officially she said she wasn’t looking for anything serious. You stayed in anytime I asked you to come out with the girls, so you could watch traumatic romances and wallow. That happened multiple times during college,” Kanae explained. 

“I love you too, Kanae. I was trying to find love and sometimes I had to take risks. It hurt at the time, but with every crush and relationship I learned something about myself. After Kyo, I promised myself the next person I dated was going to like me for me. I am never going to find happiness pretending to be someone else,” Mitsuri voiced. “Obanai accepts me as I am.” She looked at the floorboards as Kanae parked the car within walking distance of the restaurant. 

“I hate to be that person but, don’t say I didn’t warn you if nothing happens or you’re disappointed,” Kanae turned off the car. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”

Maybe Kanae was right and Mitsuri was building up Obanai in her mind. She did that with people she liked, however her crushes usually fizzled out after a month or two. Her crush on Obanai had lasted nearly six months and she still felt a buzz in her head and the flutter in her stomach when their eyes met. A mixture of excitement and nervousness at first, but over time her excitement overruled her anxiety. Mitsuri was willing to risk it for Obanai even if she crashed and burned. 

To my younger self,

You will be severely disappointed-

You shouldn’t-

You’re going to hate everything-

You deserved better than what fate gave you. I am sorry your family didn’t care for you the way you needed. They should have loved you unconditionally. I am sorry you had to endure their abuse for so long. I see the way your mother treated you like a ragdoll instead of a son. She was your mother and should have protected you. That was her role, but she failed. Same with your cousins. They were all damaged people and you will never truly understand why they did what they did, just that they did it. You deserved better than them. 

Now, you have a family that cares for you. The Rengoku’s took you in at your lowest point and saved you from dying. You have friends that enjoy your company even if you bully them… You also have Mitsuri. Her hair reminds you of watermelon bubble gum and her eyes look like spring. She is kind, unique, and thoughtful. She rambles when she gets nervous. She sends you good mornings and you send her good nights…

She is like the sun,

You’re a frozen wasteland, yet

Her smile melts you

He stared down at the page where he had scratched out the first few lines. As always, he was anxious about writing a letter to his younger self until he let his stream of consciousness take over. Now he was looking over the haiku about Mitsuri. Writing it down on paper illuminated how far gone he was. Kaburamaru was coiled around his neck as Obanai sat at his kitchen island. He tapped his fingers, one at a time on the surface. A nervous tick he had since childhood.

For months, he had been trapped with these feelings and thoughts about her. Seeing them on paper was different somehow. The only people who knew were Kyojuro, Senjuro, and to some extent her. He had to talk to someone about her before he did something he would regret. He grabbed his phone and dialed Kyojuro’s number. 

“Hello, Obanai,” Kyojuro answered on the first ring. There was laughter in the background. “How are you doing?” 

Obanai played with the corner of the paper, hesitating to speak. How could Kyojuro help? He would probably tell him to confess his feelings. What purpose would it serve when Obanai had no plans to date her? “Could you come over?” He asked before he lost his nerve. This was stupid. 

“No can do. I’m at work, but I can talk unless something happens,” Kyojuro said. The laughter he heard earlier faded. Obanai folded the corner of the paper in and then switched sides to cover up what he had written. 

“I’ll try to talk to you later then. Have a -” Obanai tried to end the call. 

“You never call this late unless something is troubling you,” his brother interrupted. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” Obanai looked at the poem and read the lines again in his head. He could imagine Kyojuro’s owl-like eyes pierce his soul. Now, he regretted calling him. 

“I’m not sure how to start,” Obanai admitted. “You said you would listen if I ever wanted to talk…I want to talk.” 

“We’re talking right now, Obi. What’s the topic?” the firefighter asked. His voice was level which meant he was approaching the conversation with caution. It was nearly 11 P.M., so he had every right to question Obanai’s mental state at this point. 

“Mitsuri,” Obanai gulped. He could feel the unease settle in his stomach. 

“Did you have another panic attack? Or did you tell her how you feel?” Kyojuro inquired when the short man failed to expand upon the conversation. 

“No and no. Last week, she came over. We had dinner together-”

“What? Did you show her your scars? That’s huge. I’m so proud of you,” Kyojuro’s voice raised higher. 

“No, not exactly. I was turned away from her and she didn’t see them. That’s not the issue. She and I almost kissed.” It sounded weird saying what happened out loud. It reminded him of the times he talked to Kyojuro in high school about his girlfriends. Kyojuro was quiet, giving Obanai time to speak. The firefighter was probably grinning ear to ear like always. “I couldn’t do it and I broke down. I told her about my childhood abuse. She comforted me and spent the night. Before you insinuate anything, nothing happened.” I’m going to ignore this morning’s weak moment. 

“Oh,” was all Kyojuro said. Silence followed. Kyojuro talked non stop normally, but now Obanai could hear him breathing. 

“Could you say something?” Obanai asked. 

“I’m just stunned that you told her everything. Dad and you didn’t tell me everything until I was 15,” he answered. 

“I didn’t tell her everything, only that my mother beat me and blinded me. Mitsuri should know why I’m broken and the reason I can’t be anything more than a friend,” Obanai said. 

“Why can’t you be anything more than a friend?” He imagined his brother tilting his head in confusion. 

“I’m broken. I have a whole slew of mental health issues. My face, body, and mind are messed up. I have no dreams or hopes for the future. If I ever tried to be with her, she would be disappointed or I would end up hurting her.” It would be easier if he could talk to Mitsuri like he was talking to Kyojuro. Maybe then she could shut him down and they could actually just be friends without the extra baggage. 

“Why do you say that? Have you asked her what she wanted?” 

“She deserves better than me. I’m a weird, short, depressed, anxiety ridden freak. No one could want this. It would be easier just to stop talking and seeing her,” Obanai felt flustered as he vented. It felt somehow relieving to voice these thoughts out loud instead of listening to his internal dialogue. 

“Obanai, you are weird,” Kyojuro said point blank. “But so is everyone else. Mitsuri is her own person. Unless you ask her what she wants, you’re making assumptions. You can’t shut someone out because you’re afraid of what could happen.”

It was true, he was afraid of losing Mitsuri. Any time he told her something he perceived as negative, she accepted it. Mitsuri gave him comfort, warming his icy veins and exposing him to the sun. Obanai was growing used to her presence in his life and relied on her. Inevitably, she would realize her mistake and forget about him. 

“You talk in should, could, and would. You don’t know the future, Obi. None of us do,” his brother said. “Your past happened, but you’ve grown so much in the last year. You’re more talkative, open,  generous, and learning how to rely on your friends and family. Now you need to live with your head held up high.” 

Obanai felt a warmth spread over his cheeks listening to Kyojuro’s praise. “Thanks… I think I needed to hear that,” he looked down at the letter.

“Anytime,” he responded. “We’re not going to solve everything over one phone call, so we can work on world peace another time.”

Obanai let out a raspy laugh. “Maybe if Flame Boy came out of retirement?”

Kyojuro gasped, “Don’t tease me like that! I still have the costume at dad’s house.” There was a blaring alarm on his side. “Gotta go. Set your heart ablaze, Brother!” 

Of course, Kyojuro had to end the call like that. A ghost of a smile spread over his face. He was glad he had called the obnoxious man now. The tension he felt earlier was not completely gone, but it was lesser. 

Obanai focused on his breath. Counting to four as he breathed in and then back out. Goosebumps spread over his forearms. Kyojuro gave sound advice. He encouraged him to talk to Mitsuri. He wasn’t ready to talk to her yet about whatever was between them, but he would. Obanai took out his phone. 

Mitsuri: It’s a full moon tonight! If it wasn’t freezing I could make moon water. 🌕 💧 

What was moon water…?

Obanai: Do you want to hang out this weekend?

It was past 11:30 P.M. and she was probably sleeping. Or not, three dots appeared on the screen.

Mitsuri: Yes! 😀 We could have a movie night!

Obanai showed up on her doorstep Friday night with a tin of sakura mochi. He was wearing a thick black coat with a black beanie. It wasn’t until he was putting it on earlier that he realized Mitsuri had given Kaburamaru a matching beanie. She was adorable. He had to take a moment to absorb that before he took his keys off his entryway table. 

She opened the front door and he walked in. There was a dusting of snow on his clothes. 

“It’s been a minute,” She beamed at him. Her smile tugged at his heart. It had been nearly two weeks since they saw each other in person. She was in an oversized violet sweater that hung off of one shoulder lazily and exposed her collarbone. He licked his lips, his tongue touched the inside of the paper mask. 

“Here’s something to make up for it,” He handed her the green tin of sakura mochi. Fingertips brushed, hearts raced. 

“Is this for Sushi?” Mitsuri asked, mirth lacing her voice. 

“They could be, but I am not sure if cats can have sakura leaves,” He said as he took his coat off and draped it over a hook by the doorway. Underneath he was wearing a long sleeved grey shirt. He toed off his shoes, making sure to set them on a plastic mat to prevent the snow from ruining the floor. 

“Probably not. That means more for me and you,” she motioned for him to follow her into the living room. Mitsuri set the tin on the coffee table next to a bowl of popcorn and candy. There was also a glass of water with a straw set out for him. It was the small actions she took to ensure his comfort and accommodate for his… shortcomings that made him melt. She sat down pulling her legs underneath her. She was wearing green frog slippers modeled after Kermit. 

“They are all yours,” he commented as he sat next to her. Green eyes studied him. 

“Obanai,” she began. “I was really happy when you asked to hang out. After you told me about your past, I was worried. You’re not alone, so if you ever want to talk about it or need a distraction call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. Most times he lost his words when she told him something selfless or caring. 

“I-I” he stuttered and then looked away from her. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to focus on the fabric on the couch under his palm and the sound of Sushi walking down the hallway, the bell of his collar jingling. He didn’t turn back to her as he spoke, “I want you to know the rest of my past. I’m not ready to tell you everything yet.” 

“It’s your story, Oba. You can tell me what you want when you want to. I’m never going to force you to talk about it,” Mitsuri said calmly. “Like I said before, I’m here for you. Always if you’ll let me.” 

Now he is at a loss for words. His head swam, unable to stay on one thought for too long. She knew exactly what to say. He turned back to her. She had repositioned where her knees were bent in front of her with both arms over them. Her head rested on her knees as she watched him. He pulled up his sleeves, revealing the shiny white scars plastered over his arms. It was too cold in her house for his palms to sweat. He pointed to a jagged, puckered line over his right forearm. Little bit by little bit, he would tell her everything. 

“I broke my arm after she pushed me down the stairs,” he said, staring down at the white mark. “I don’t remember why she did it if you’re going to ask.” 

“I wasn’t going to. When I asked about your mask and face scars, you said you would tell me one day. Today is one of those days,” Mitsuri said. 

He looked up at her now. She gave him a small smile of encouragement. His hand moved to the elastic band over his ear holding the mask in place. A shiver ran up his spine, his hand hovering over the band. Every muscle in his arms and shoulders tensed as he hesitated. He debated whether or not to take the plunge. Was today also the day he showed his greatest shame? He pressed his lips together as a finger hooked under the band. 

He felt a soft hand meet the one over the mask. “You don’t have to unless you want to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you had to share those scars today. You don’t owe anyone anything including me,” Her brows softened as she spoke. “This is your story, no one else’s,” she asserted. 

He was never going to stop liking her. Obanai lowered his hand, but kept her hand and placed it in his lap. “You leave me speechless,” He told her. His fingers trailed the lines on her palm. Their hands were nearly the same size except his fingers were longer. 

“It’s mutual,” she blurted out. He raised his brows, surprised. Her cheeks flushed. “When you told me I was unique, creative, and daring, I had a hard time finding my words…So it’s mutual,” she emphasized the last word. 

“It’s mutual,” he repeated, confirming what was left unsaid. Obanai could feel the pulse in her hand. He cleared his throat. “What happened on New Year’s-I still can’t. I’m sorry,” he bit the inside of his mouth. This physically hurt him. His insides were turning, battering against his ribcage. Denying himself and her something that never started. 

“I know,” Mitsuri whispered. She pulled her hand away from his grasp and he had to stop himself from reaching for her. She blinked rapidly before turning towards the television. Mitsuri put her feet on the ground and took the remote off the coffee table. Without missing a beat, Sushi jumped into her lap. 

“Ummm, what do you want to watch? I heard the new Margot Robbie movie was good. But I don’t think you’d be interested in the Barbie movie,” Mitsuri switched topics. The movie didn’t matter. He would not be able to focus. Slowly, he nodded. The rest of the evening was a flurry of Barbie pink, plastic beaches, and horses. 

He didn’t want to fuck up, but he thinks he just did.

Chapter Text

Late January to Late February

Obanai watched the tailor take Sanemi’s measurements for his wedding suit. The groom decided on a silver suit with light green tie. Kanae chose to use lilac for the boutonnieres, which would be incorporated into her bouquet along with baby’s breath and wisteria. His measurements had already been taken for a similar suit. Sanemi kept pulling on the tie as he complained about how tight it had to be. 

“You only have to wear it for pictures,” Obanai reminded him. His friend cast him a sideways glance with his purple eyes. 

“I hate anything that constrains me. At least the pictures will be done right after the wedding and I can take it off for the reception,” Sanemi tugged the tie completely off. The tailor frowned at that as he took the jacket length. “Good thing I only plan on getting married once.” 

Obanai crossed his legs and looked out the window. He never planned on getting married. No one should have to deal with him and his bullshit day in and day out. Sanemi could deal with the bullshit along with the rest of his platonic friends. 

Inwardly, he winced. Mitsuri’s indirect admission that their feelings were mutual haunted him. That and the loss of her hand he had been holding weeks ago. Her hand fit perfectly in his. Warm and soft against him. It was as though they were closing a door on what could have been before even starting. Alternatively, he could break the barrier and pull her down to his level. He’d drag her down to Hell with him and his family if he were a worse person. She only saw several aspects of him, but not everything. Not the selfish, disgusting, possessive person he was. She did not know what he had done to his mother and cousins or what he could do to her. His brow furrowed at the thought. 

All he had been doing for the last few weeks was brood over the situation. Their communication had been stiff and she had rejected three invitations to see him. She said she was busy with work, which was true. Mitsuri was taking the lead in planning an after school STEM fair with Gyomei assisting her. They were having parents and members of the community come in to educate the students on a variety of subjects. Science, physics, nature, planets, biology, and chemistry. She threw herself into any project wholeheartedly. In March she was set to paint a mural in the cafeteria. Her devotion to her students was admirable. 

He missed her. He missed the way she would look at him from the corner of her eyes when he drove them to the gym, a hike, or to a wedding event. He missed hearing her snort when she laughed, her smile that radiated the warmth, and her absurd sense of humor. Even her fierce look when she was deadlifting, solely concentrating on the task at hand. Obanai knew his crush on her was bad, but the distance made it that much more apparent. 

It stung to be rejected. He should have expected it. Ever since they met, he worried she would run away once she knew too much about him. Only, it was the exact opposite. When Obanai determined he was unable to give her more, her communication became stiff. They sent each other daily messages, but they were… different. 

Slow response times, benign conversations mostly regarding the wedding or a trivial question. He missed the easy ebb and flow in conversation they had before the New Year. Maybe it was better this way. At least that’s what he had been telling himself for the past few months. It felt worse than it would be if they stopped talking completely. At least then he would not be perseverating on the pastel pink woman. He really had fucked up. 

“Obanai?” Sanemi waved a hand in front of the raven haired man’s face. He was back in his street clothes. “Obanai?” He raised his voice. Slowly, he looked over in the taller man’s direction.

“I’m half blind, not deaf, Sanemi,” Obanai spat, his eyes narrowing on the white haired man. 

“No need to get pissy. I asked if you wanted to grab a beer after this and you had this glazed over look,” Sanemi pointed to his eyes. “You worried me for a second.” The tailor was gone. Sanemi was standing in front of him, holding his green coat and car keys. 

“Yeah, I can grab one. I was just thinking about something,” Obanai said as he stood up. There was no need to apologize to Sanemi. They had an understanding that whatever was said in frustration didn’t need an apology. He grabbed his black jacket off the back of the chair and put it on.  

“Which bar?” Sanemi asked as he waved goodbye to the tailor and made their way out into the empty street. It was just past 8 P.M. on a Wednesday night. The snow had cleared in the past few days, leaving the streets perpetually wet. They crossed the street to Sanemi’s green SUV and hopped in. 

“Twelve Moons,” Obanai answered. Sanemi nodded in agreement as he turned on his car.

“Let’s call Tengen and Kyojuro to see if they want to come. Do you mind calling them?” Sanemi asked. 

“Kyojuro is at work. He’s been picking up shifts in hopes they’ll let him off for the wedding without being on call,” Obanai explained. He grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket to call only to pause when he saw Mitsuri’s name on the screen. 

Mitsuri: How did the suit fitting go? I can’t imagine Sanemi in a suit 🤔 

Obanai: I didn’t see it until today. 

He swiped the conversation away and found Tengen’s contact. “Hey Babe, I don’t hear much from you lately,” He answered on the third ring, no doubt finding amusement. The last time he saw him in person was the Christmas party. After that it was primarily the group chat between him, Obanai, Kyojuro, and Sanemi. 

“Sanemi and I are going out for drinks. He wanted you to come along,” Obanai started. 

“Not you?” Tengen asked, feigning disappointment. 

“No, I’d have to like you,” Obanai heard Tengen’s laughter instantly. Ripping into each other was commonplace for them. In the background, he heard Makio or Suma’s laughter joined their husband’s. 

“I would have to have pastel pink hair for you to like me,” Tengen snapped back. Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw Sanemi grin at the taunt. He had not mentioned anything to Sanemi or Tengen about his feelings for Mitsuri. Though, he had told them several times he could not make it to events since he had plans with her. Only Kyojuro knew the whole truth of it. It wouldn’t be hard to make the jump. Tengen asked him months ago if he and Mitsuri were fucking, which he denied.

Obanai breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth trying to calm himself before he yelled at Tengen for taunting him. He was trying not to react as negatively, which Tengen made near impossible. One on one he was manageable and Obanai even liked him, but when there was an audience he needed to assert himself as the life of the party. 

“Which bar?”  Tengen started talking again. 

“Twelve Moons,” Obanai said. 

“See you there, Babe. Give Sanemi my love,” Tengen made kissy noises into the phone. Obanai dropped his head and sighed at his antics. The short man was going to end up regretting inviting him out tonight, he already did. 

“Why are you friends with him again?” Obanai scoffed as he turned to look at the driver. 

“He’s your friend too and he keeps things lively. He adds an extra spice to the gang,” Sanemi lifted one hand from the wheel to pretend he was sprinkling spice before he parked his car a block away from the bar. 

“He’s like paprika. All for show and little substance,” Obanai said. The anger he felt subsided lightly. 

“Tengen told me how Kanae felt, so I am indebted to the guy,” Sanemi opened the car door and headed towards Twelve Moons. It was a smaller local bar compared to the Crows or the Village. Obanai preferred it to the other two. It was less vibrant and crowded than the other two and a tad gloomy, if he was honest. The lights were dimmed and allowed Obanai to relax more than the flash and flare of the Village. 

He followed after his best friend, matching his stride. His hands were in his pockets trying to stay warm. They walked in, ordered their drinks and found a high table by the bar. There were only a few tables that were filled. Mostly, people getting off of work and entertaining colleagues. 

Tengen walked in like he owned the place. He had his long white hair down and wore a shimmery maroon button up with dark trousers. Several people watched him head towards Obanai and Sanemi. In true Tengen fashion he put his arms around his friends’ shoulders.

“Evening, boys,” he squeezed them and kissed their cheeks. Obanai rolled his eyes and tried to push him off. 

“Save that for your wives,” Obanai grumbled.

“Babe, there’s no need to be prickly. You’ll always have a special place in my heart,” Tengen let go of them before heading to the bar. He flashed the two a wink as he looked over her shoulder. 

“If he says any more shit, I’m decking him,” Obanai threatened. Between his taunts, the overly affectionate gestures, and flirtatious behavior, he was more than ready to bring the giant down. Regardless of his therapy goal to be less volatile and not reacting to every provocation. Dr. Ubuyashiki suggested it. 

“Oh? Usually, I’m the first one to throw a punch. Feel free to cut in line,” Sanemi smirked. Obanai smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He peered around the room. There were not many people here and the lights were too low for someone to notice his face right away. He pushed his mask up slightly and sipped his beer before bringing it back over his ruined mouth. 

“Take it off. We’ve all seen them,” Tengen’s voice coming off more sultry than normal. “There’s no one here that you care about who hasn’t seen.” Tengen approached from behind with two pitchers of beer. He set them on the table and pulled up a seat between Sanemi and Obanai. 

“Why are you like this?” Obanai asked, twisting his head as quick as a viper to look at the other man with his good eye. 

“Someone has to lighten the mood between you two,” Tengen drank deeply from one of the pitchers shamelessly. His red eyes flashed as he set it back down. “The wives and I are going to a new hot spring in April. You two are welcome to come,” he offered.

“I’m in. My latest project should be coming to an end in April,” Sanemi agreed immediately. “Kanae hasn’t been to a hot spring in years.” Tengen raised his fist in victory. 

Obanai stared at the beer in front of him. There was no way he’d go to a hot spring. Between his feelings of inadequacy and scars, he’d be too self conscious. He imagine the gasps of horror if they saw his upper arms and the puckered scar from a suicide attempt. They wouldn’t allow him to wear a mask in the hot spring either. His stomach churned as he thought of the patrons’ disgusted faces. 

“Not a chance,” Obanai answered. 

“Figures. Do you think Mitsuri would come instead? She’s normally up for anything ,” Tengen wiggled his eyebrows, smiling impishly at Obanai. Now it dawned on him. Between that and his earlier comment, Tengen was trying to get a rise out of him. Typical. Now that he understood Tengen’s motive, it was easier to handle his anger. 

Instead of glaring at the red eyed man, Obanai took another sip of his beer by pushing his mask up and calmly watched the source of his irritation. The edges of his facial scars were visible to the other two men. Tengen’s mouth twisted for a split second. Without Obanai’s snappy retorts, Tengen would not be saying anything else about the pink haired teacher. Silence fell over the table as Tengen waited for Obanai’s response. 

“At first, I thought it was funny. Cool it,” Sanemi glared at the other white haired man. Tengen pulled his lip back ready to snap back. 

“Tengen, the next time you say something to disrespect Mitsuri, I will tie you up, throw you in my trunk, and no one will ever see you again,” Obanai decided coldly. His face was neutral despite the threat. Several emotions passed over Tengen’s face before he laughed. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Tengen challenged. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Obanai countered before looking past Tengen to Sanemi. “What’s your current project?” 

For the next hour, they discussed Sanemi’s work, the wedding, Tengen’s future baby, and Obanai’s decision to accept the position of Head Chef at Nichirin in June after Mr. Urokodaki retires. It was the next step in Obanai’s career path. 

Plus, he was already performing the Head Chef’s duties three days out of the week without the pay that came with those responsibilities. He would hate whoever got the position if he refused and undermine their decisions. Nichirin was like a second home and he’d be damned if anyone trespassed on his restaurant. If another location were to open, he could afford to leave this town temporarily. The idea of change did not sit well with his anxiety, however, he would have no room to develop if he let his anxiety control every decision he made.

On the car ride back to his house, Sanemi asked him to go to the cake testing next week. He wasn’t sure about the exact location, but Kanae swore the baker was the best in town. She’d been in talks with him for weeks. Some place called Ice Lotus Cakes. 

Mitsuri: My car battery is dead. Do you think you could pick me up? If not, I can see if Kanae and Sanemi can stop by! 

Obanai: Yes. I'm just about to leave.  Are you ready to go now? 

Mitsuri: I’ll be ready! 

If she hadn’t left the overhead light on in her car all night her battery wouldn’t be dead. She’d have to find jumper cables or a new battery when she got back home. That was future Mitsuri’s problem. 

They had not seen much of each other since he came over to watch a movie… She was not sure where they stood. He said he still can’t. It was unclear what he meant by can’t. She didn’t want to pry and make him uncomfortable by pressuring him into kissing her or more. That was why she had been avoiding him.

She was busy with planning a STEM fair at the school, but that was something she volunteered for in order to distract herself. It was easier to deal with tangible situations than emotional ones. If she was able to plan the fair without issue then she would prove herself as a competent person worthy of love and praise, right? At least in her students, their parents, bosses, and coworkers’ eyes. She dived into planning and recruiting others to help. Mitsuri called parents to invite them to attend or be one of the educators. She already employed two parents and Kanae to teach kids about botany. 

Although, it was not only her feelings about Obanai that were bothering her. February 10th marked the anniversary of her broken engagement with Kyo. Shame, anger, and anxiety consumed her at night when she was left alone to her thoughts. They crept into her mind like spiders at the edge of a cobweb. 

Mitsuri ended the engagement after he told her she would make a terrible mother. So terrible he debated if he even wanted children with her. Plus they could inherit her weird hair and freakish strength. She wanted to have children and she would not compromise. She removed the engagement ring and threw it at him, telling him it was over. He told her only a bear or other woodland beast would marry her. She told him to have a good life without her. 

At nearly 26 years old, she thought she would be further along in life. Her own mother had been 21 years old when she got married and had Mitsuri. She had wasted so much time and effort on Kyo trying to appease him. She grimaced at the memory of herself dying her hair black in the mirror and drinking slimfast shakes to lose weight. 

Though she was not suffering from an eating disorder now, she was ashamed she had let someone have that much control over her and her life choices. It was part of the reason she was not pushing Obanai one way or another. That would come off as controlling.

She grabbed her blush pink trench coat and threw it over her black cotton dress with ruffles around the sleeves and neckline. The weather was beginning to warm up, so she opted to wear a pair of navy blue flats with black cats for buckles. Her hair was half up in a bun and half down. In the mirror, she fixed the way her bangs fell down her face. 

Captain Sushi gave his meow of approval and rubbed himself against her legs as she assessed herself in the mirror. She had put on navy eyeliner with mascara. Wearing eccentric makeup and clothes made her feel more like herself and an armored layer to deal with the world. 

“Thanks, Sush,” Mitsuri patted his head before grabbing her purse and keys. She exited the house and stood on her front porch to wait for Obanai. She only had to wait a short time before he pulled into her driveway in his white Jeep. She adjusted the strap on her purse as she walked up to his car. 

“Hey,” Obanai greeted her with his kind eyes as she sat down in the passenger’s seat. He was so cute sitting there in his navy blue sweater with long sleeves that nearly covered his hands. 

“Thank you so much and I’m sorry for making you take me,” she said, bowing her head and then buckling herself in. 

“Your place is on the way there,” he replied. “Yo-you,” he stuttered and then paused, collecting himself. He looked away from her towards his side mirror. “You look nice,” pink crept up his cheeks behind his mask. She tried to ignore the way her temperature rose and the warmth that swelled in her heart at his words. They almost looked as if they had coordinated their outfits between the blue sweater and her shoes. 

“Thank you,” She smiled at him. “I like your sweater. I think this might be the first time I’ve ever seen you wear color.” His eyes creased indicating he was smiling at her. He had the car heater on. 

“I thought it was black when I bought it. By the time I decided to wear it, it was too late to return,” Obanai looked behind him towards the road as he backed up. She stared out the window to avoid staring at him. 

“I do that all the time. It takes so much time to return something between driving to the store, standing in line, and then explaining why you want to return the item,” Mitsuri could feel herself rambling to fill the space between them. She did not want to talk about her feelings right now. Not if he was going to tell her, I can’t . It stung. She knew he had anxiety and after learning about his mother she knew he had issues with women and most likely intimacy. Another rejection would hurt more considering the time of year and her feelings of shame and anxiety about her previous relationship failures.

“You know what’s even worse? Trying to cancel a subscription. I had one for makeup and they kept sending me expired eyeshadow palettes. I tried calling customer service to see if it was a fluke. They said they would make sure it didn’t happen again. It did. For six months, I got dried out, crusty makeup, so I decided to cancel it. The website had a link for canceling, but it led me through 20 other windows just to be told to call customer service,” She paused. “Sorry, this must be really boring to listen to.” 

“You’re not a bother, Mitsuri,” He reminded her. His smooth voice reeled her into him. Steady and relaxed. “Go ahead and continue,” he urged her as he pulled onto the highway. She watched him out of the corners of her eyes. He had said his right side was impaired. His gold eye seemed hazy now that she focused her attention on it. She liked his eyes. They were the only way to know if he was smiling at her. Kind and calm. 

“Thanks,” She pursed her lips. “Anyway, I called customer service and each person I got passed me off to another. That happened five different times and I got so mad that I had to stop and try calling a different day. A few days later I called again and finally got someone who listened. They told me it was their last day at the company and would process my cancellation request right away. Two minutes later I got the email confirmation that my subscription was canceled. I don’t understand how companies can do that. I get trying to dissuade someone, but don’t lead them around in circles, you know?” She asked. Her face scrunched up at the irritating memory. 

“There’s a way you can get around that,” Obanai answered. She turned her head with an open mouth.  

“What? How? Tell me your secrets,” Mitsuri pleaded. Her knees bounced, expending excess energy. 

“Call your bank and cancel the automatic payments those companies have to set up,” Obanai turned the steering wheel. 

“I should have thought of that,” Mitsuri commented and facepalmed herself. 

“I only know because Kyojuro likes to sign up for all sorts of things and then he would whine to me to help cancel them when they strung him along like they did with you. After the third one, I found out about the bank trick,” Obanai explained.

“The more you know,” Mitsuri lifted her hand in the air and made the motion of a star crossing through space. She chuckled at her own joke. 

“I don’t get that reference,” He admitted as he took the next exit and pulled up to a stop light. 

“It’s from an old commercial in the 80s and 90s. There was a star passing through space, Whoosh ,” she made the sound effect. “And the caption, ‘The more you know’ was right above it.”

At the stop light, he fidgeted with a loose thread on his sleeve and he looked down, “I wasn’t allowed to watch a lot of television growing up.” 

“Oh,” she bit the inside of her cheek wishing she had not said anything. “It’s no big deal if you don’t get it. There’s a lot of references that go over my head,” She tried to reassure him. She looked down at her nails. 

He cleared his throat, “I was allowed to read some books, but television was a special privilege. I remember watching a fireworks show one year, but not much else. I spent a lot of time in my room.”

“What sort of books did you read?” Mitsuri inquired. He had not shared many details about the circumstances of his childhood. There was the physical abuse he mentioned. When he told her that his mother threw him down the stairs, her blood boiled. She wanted to give the woman a piece of her mind. Obanai deserved a better childhood, one where he had been treated fairly and with compassion. His mother could rot in her own misery, but she made sure to bring Obanai for the ride. He did not deserve that. 

“Mostly adventure books, nothing specific comes to mind,” He answered as the light finally turned green. “I think I was trying to escape reality.” He glanced over at her to see her reaction. 

“Given the circumstances, I would want to escape too,” Mitsuri agreed. He looked back at the road and was quiet. 

He told her he wanted her to know everything. She wished to know every part of him, the good, bad, and every space in between. The pieces he did share were sprinkled out depending on his comfort level. She had deduced the scars on his face were probably from his mother or cousins like the others, but she wasn’t going to bring it up. He made them out to be horrific and disgusting. The scars she’d seen on his arms weren’t grotesque. His scars were nothing compared to the man beside her. The one that laughed with her, smiled at her, and spoke with her as an equal. 

“I liked mysteries growing up. In high school, I started reading the Bronte sisters' works. I think I’ve read Jane Eyre over 100 times, ” Mitsuri laughed. 

“I remember you saying it was your favorite book,” Obanai commented. “At the wedding venue.” She flushed. He remembered everything she had ever told him it seemed. They pulled into a parking spot and the chef turned off the car. 

“You ready?” He asked, poised to open the door. She nodded and they made their way to the small cake shop. There was a vast window at the front outlined with frost with an etching of a woman holding a lotus that looked like a snowflake. The doorway was white and decorated with more of the lotus snowflakes. It was so cute. 

“Look at how cute it is,” She said excitedly, pointing at the glass. He nodded in agreement and opened the door for her. Inside the bakery there was a light blue couch love seat with a glass coffee table. There was a register on top of the white granite counter. Lining the walls were examples of cakes the bakeries had designed before. There was a five tiered sample that was covered in similar motifs to the etching in the window. Another sample was a cake that was shaped like a white porcelain vase with green vines and red flowers. Kanae had picked the right place, Mitsuri noted when she saw a cake with butterflies molded out of sugar glass. 

Obanai and Mitsuri had arrived before the engaged couple. A middle aged woman with dark brown hair walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands down with a wet towel. She gave them her best customer service smile as she greeted the pair, “Are you here for a cake tasting? What name did you use to make the reservation?” 

“It’d probably be under Shinazugawa or Kocho,” Mitsuri stepped up to the counter. Obanai stood beside her as his eyes wandered the room, anywhere but the woman. “Our friends are the ones that made it.”

“Yep, your appointment is under Kocho,” She tapped a few buttons on the tablet, checking them in. “I’ll let the owner know and he will be out once your entire party gets here. If you need anything, my name is Nakime,” She walked back into the kitchen. 

Mitsuri took off her coat and folded it over her forearms as she wandered around the front room, admiring the cakes while Obanai admired her. She was wearing a long black dress with ruffles across the neckline and short sleeves. Per usual, her outfit had one oddity. Today the oddity was her shoes with cat shaped buckles. Her style endeared him to her further. It reflected the type of person she was. He followed her as she pointed out the different decorations. 

“I thought about being a baker once,” Mitsuri admitted. He tilted his head, angling his teal eye to get a better look at her expression. “I was super young and enjoyed helping my mom make cookies, cupcakes, and brownies. One time I carried a 15 kilogram bag of flour over my head when I was only two. It weighed as much as I did. I don’t remember it, but my parents have a photo in their front room as proof,” She laughed. 

“You were always strong,”  he commented. 

“I guess so. I got my strength from my dad,” She scratched the back of her neck. Though he admired her strength she was still self conscious about it. Mitsuri could lift more than him the last time they went to the gym.  

The kitchen door opened again and a platinum blonde appeared. He wore a red baker’s coat with black apron and grey striped pants. Obanai knew this man. He wore a stupid red cap with black polka dots. His eyes were iridescent and glinted with false kindness. He was staring intently at the pink haired woman, his gaze stalling at her bust before finding her face. Obanai furrowed his brow and stepped in front of her defensively. She did not deserve to ogled at like an object. Especially by this shithead. 

“Obanai!” the man greeted him. This smile widened to show all his teeth.  “I haven’t seen you since high school. Are you getting married? I must say that would be very surprising.”  

“No, Douma,” Obanai gritted his teeth. Douma grinned, looking at Mitsuri like a predator and she was a fawn. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Obanai. There’s something for everyone, even you. Now, who is this cute, darling woman next to you? I’m Douma,” he winked at Mitsuri. Obanai tightened his fist watching the man so blatantly flirt with the woman of his dreams. Literally, sometimes. He was angered by the fact Douma could so easily take a chance with a woman he just met. Obanai had no right to act jealous, but the tendrils of envy hooked onto his insides. 

“I’m Mitsuri,” Mitsuri stepped up beside Obanai in order to introduce herself. The shithead walked up to the pair from behind the counter, his smile obscene. He bowed deeply and reached out for her hand. She looked down, hesitating briefly. 

“I promise I won't bite, mon chéri,” Douma showed all his teeth, his hand still outstretched. Obanai’s eyes twitched watching the interaction. 

In high school, Douma harassed and stalked a fair number of girls including Kyojuro’s old girlfriend and Sanemi’s sister. The girls were too scared to report him. He came from a rich, influential family. His father was a high ranking official in the city. If Douma was caught doing anything, he would have just been let off free or the girls pulled through the mud. Kyojuro told Obanai about the situation. Obanai still feared women at that point, but he hated Douma and abusers more. No one should feel defenseless. Obanai slashed his brand new Dodge Challenger’s tires, and Obanai had written a small threatening note. It was something to the effect of ‘It’ll be your balls next time’. Kyojuro scolded him for acting so rashly. Douma transferred schools overseas and Obanai had not heard a fucking thing about him since. 

Obanai took Douma’s hand instead, not wanting him to touch Mitsuri. Douma was even more tainted than him. His entire life he had despised human contact. As a child, all physical contact was the form of abuse, hitting, kicking, punching him, and throwing objects at his person. It took years for him to be comfortable with Sanemi or other men shaking hands or hugging on the rare occasion. However, he would not be able to live with himself if Douma touched Mitsuri.

Douma’s eyes closed as he chuckled, “I didn’t realize you wanted a kiss.” He pressed his cold lips to Obanai’s hand. The creep. Obanai took his hand back, glancing at the spot Douma kissed. He wondered where he could find a cheap acid bath. The baker stood up straight, grinning like an escaped convict. 

They needed to get out of here before Sanemi showed up because Sanemi would kill the fuckwad if he got the chance. As teenagers they could get away with stuff like that, but not as adults. There would be legal consequences if Sanemi or Obanai acted on their rage towards Douma. Plus, Obanai didn’t want to give Douma the chance to harass Mitsuri. 

“We should leave.” Obanai glanced at Mitsuri. Her eyes darted between Obanai and Douma.

“Obanai,” Douma whined. “Why must you leave? I would hate to cut our reunion short. Even more, I would hate to not get Mitsuri’s number. There’s only so many pretty girls left around our age,” He pouted. The blonde put his hand under his chin. His eyes narrowed on the baker. Douma dared to consider himself worthy of Mitsuri, but he was wrong. Obanai would die before letting Douma touch any part of her.

“I don’t give my number out to strangers,” Mitsuri said politely, looking between the two men with inquisitive eyes. Douma turned his sights on her again, looking from her feet all the way up to her face. He didn’t even try to hide it. 

“We don’t have to be strangers. Do you want to go out to dinner after this cake tasting?” Douma asked. Obanai grinded his teeth. Fuck him. Fuck his obnoxious behavior. Fuck him for being a creep. Fuck him for daring to touch Mitsuri. His fingernails dug into his palm as he clenched his fists. Obanai wanted to tell him to shove a cactus- Mitsuri put a hand on Obanai’s upper arm, breaking his train of thought. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested,” Mitsuri said, her hand resting on Obanai’s sweater. 

“Too bad,” Douma said before sighing. “Are you still friends with Sanemi? I’ve been meaning to contact his sister.” Obanai felt the cords in his neck and fists tighten as his attention returned to  the blonde. Douma cocked one brow.

“Say one more fucking thing and I won’t be slashing just your tires.” He seethed. So much for his therapy goal of not reacting to volatile situations or people. 

“You did that?” He asked. “I figured it was someone else. You were always weak and pathetic.” Obanai hated how cold Douma’s voice was similar to the ice motifs of his bakery. The words weak and pathetic floated in his mind. A vision of his mother screaming incoherent words at him flooded his senses. Her hands fisted in his hair, shoving him into a wall. Now was not the time for that memory. 

“You don’t have a comeback for that?” Douma asked, his rainbow eyes almost giddy seeing Obanai’s momentary distress. Calm down, Obanai. He told himself. Mitsuri ran her hand down Obanai’s sweater to hold his hand. Her fingers grazed the back of his hand. The memory and Douma were an afterthought now. He looked at her face and then her hand acting like a lighthouse, pulling him back to the present. She tugged lightly on his hand in a silent ask to leave. 

“Let’s go,” Mitsuri whispered. Obanai nodded and exited the bakery holding her hand. Douma was still talking as they left, but Obanai didn’t listen. They were quiet as they walked back to the Jeep. 

“Who was that?” Mitsuri finally asked. “He gave me the chills.” 

“Douma was a classmate in high school. He stalked and harassed Sanemi’s sister, Kyojuro’s ex, and several others,” He answered. “He never got in trouble for it since his dad was some big shot in the local government.” 

“Oh,” Mitsuri’s eyebrows raised in understanding. “What a ratbag!”

Obanai squinted his eyes, not understanding the term. “Is ratbag more slang I don’t understand?”

“Umm, actually it’s from nineteenth century Europe. I had a phase where I researched old slang because of gothic novels, which is really embarrassing now that I’m saying it outloud. Ratbag means a rogue,” She explained before switching topics. Another quirk to add to the list of things he liked about her. “Did you say you slashed his tires?” 

“Yes. Kyojuro said he wanted to do something to protect his ex and wanted to go the legal route. Nothing was ever going to happen to Douma if he did. His father would have taken care of it and hid his son’s transgressions, so I took a knife and slashed his tires,” He coughed. “I also left a note threatening to cut off his balls…” 

She opened her mouth once and then closed it. “I don’t usually condone violence, but it sounds like he deserved it,” she said. “We need to call Kanae before they get to the shop.” Mitsuri pulled out her phone and dialed the bride’s number. Luckily, Kanae picked up. 

Kanae and Sanemi were stuck in the middle of traffic downtown, which was why they had not shown up yet. Mitsuri explained what happened and Sanemi could be heard on the other end yelling profanities at Douma. Kanae would have the job of calming him down after they got off the phone. 

Obanai watched Mitsuri as she spoke, acting as the meditator for the situation. She soothed Kanae’s worries about finding another baker. They had six more months to find one, which should not be an issue. The whole time, Mitsuri was still holding hands with him. His thumb rested over her wrist, feeling her pulse. Touching her brought him back to the present, listening to her voice made his mind relax, and seeing her take charge of a situation left him wondering what else she could take charge of in the future. He looked down at the ground then, forcing those thoughts back into the dark recesses of his mind.

She ended the call and rubbed her eyes with the palm of her empty hand. “Can you take me back to my house?” She asked. “I need to see what I can do about my car.” 

Obanai let go of her as he went over to the driver’s side. They drove back to her house in silence except for the classical music on the radio. He helps to power up her VW Beetle with the jumper cables he had in his trunk before he leaves her house. She didn’t invite him in and he didn’t ask. 

“I want to talk about Mitsuri,” Obanai sat in his therapist’s office. Dr. Ubuyashiki asked him to start taking off his mask during sessions. He said it was to help desensitize his need for the mask around people outside of his family. So far it has not worked.

“What about her?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked, keeping his voice level.

Obanai explained what happened on New Year’s along with everything since. “I wish I were someone else. Someone normal. If I was normal, I could be with her. I could date her, send her flowers, and eat an actual meal with her.” He ran a hand over the scars on his cheeks. The scar tissue was stiff. Dr. Ubuyashiki was quiet.

“These scars stop me. I worry how she will react to them. She knows they exist, but not the reason,” Obanai explained. “These scars are the last barrier. If there’s nothing left, she’ll see me for what I am. A scared, worthless man from a corrupt, twisted bloodline.”

“Obanai, I am going to stop you there,” He interjected. “You’re going down a slippery slope of thinking and making unfair assumptions. Let’s break this down. You are not the same person you were when we first met. You’re still a smartass, but you’re less prone to anger, able to converse with women, and manage your anxiety and depression far better. You don’t let them control you like you did before. You’ve even decided to take a promotion in spite of your anxiety. It can be difficult for any person to see the progress they’ve made without looking outside of themselves.” He paused. His lavender eyes blazed. “The scars are not stopping you, Obanai. The only one stopping you is yourself and your long hard held belief you are unworthy and a burden to others.” 

Obanai was silenced, uncertain how to respond. Some of it rang true. He always said he wasn’t enough, he didn’t deserve Mitsuri, or Mitsuri deserved better. 

“Sorry, Obanai, I should not have said that,” Dr. Ubuyashiki backtracked. “That was unprofessional of me.”

“No, actually, Kyojuro said something similar a while back,” the black haired man admitted. He held the therapist’s gaze. “What do you suggest?”

“Show compassion for yourself and others. Try to accept yourself as you are or who you want to be.” 

In the last week of February, Obanai stared at a stock pot full of broth in disappointment. The new hire had been given specific instructions on how to stir and mix the correct proportions of the ingredients, but it remained extremely salty and lost the robust flavor. He glared at the new line chef, who looked down at the ground ashamed of the mistake. 

“Can you read?” He asked bluntly. The boy nodded his head and his lips twisted, uncomfortable with Obanai’s dual colored eyes staring daggers at him. Obanai did not shift his gaze away from him. The boy shuffled his feet and bit his lip. 

“Should I throw this away and start again?” He asked. Obanai shook his head. 

“Learn from your mistakes. The broth has too much salt. Add a cup of water, let it come to a simmer, taste it. The water will dilute the salt. Come and find me when you get it right,” Obanai ordered. He was attempting to be less critical of people or in Dr. Ubuyashiki’s words ‘Show compassion’, so he added, “I did the same when I started working here.” He turned away before he could see the boy’s reaction. 

His eyes peered over the kitchen, looking for any shortcomings. The other line chef was falling behind in his prep work, so Obanai washed his hands and joined her in cutting the vegetables. This type of work was monotonous and easy. If the new hire had not fucked up the broth, he would be here assisting the second line cook. The boy would learn, Obanai had. 

“Chef Iguro, your dad is here. I set him up in the back,” Aoi called out through the service window. He was prepping more vegetables. What was his father doing here? Shinjuro would come with his brothers now and then, but it was planned in advance. He respected Obanai’s need for boundaries. 

“Chef Sabito, take over,” he demanded and went to wash his hands. Shinjuro must have something important to say if he came into his work. He set his apron on a hook and went through the double doors. Obanai walked to the back. The table had a single man looking over the menu. He was tapping his finger tips on the table. One finger up at a time, almost a nervous tick. Noticing the movement, the man looked up with two different colored eyes.

No.

No.

No. 

Obanai shook his head slowly in disbelief. Aoi mistook this man as his father. It was easy to see the similarities between the two. This man was taller, but their faces were undeniably the same, at least from the nose up. Though the customer’s hair was greying it had been raven black. He had wide slanted eyes. One golden amber eye and the other teal. A sharp nose. Pale skin and thin, dark eyebrows. A mirror reflection of Obanai 20 years in the future. 

You’re as handsome as your father. 

No.

No.

No. 

In most shocking incidents, Obanai would have frozen or run. Now though faced with this man, he strode forward. He had no right coming to his work, disrupting Obanai’s life. Not after 28 years of silence. He threw out his current goal to avoid reacting negatively to provocative situations and people and showing compassion for a man who had none. These were unforeseen circumstances and nothing Obanai would have expected when he woke up this afternoon. 

“You need to leave.” Obanai said, his voice bristling in anger. The ground shifted beneath his feet. Why was this man here at his restaurant? Aoi had called him Obanai’s father. Why was he here? It’d been 28 years. Twelve of those years were spent being tormented by his mother. His eyes narrowed on the man. 

“I saw your picture on Rokuro’s food blog and I had to see you in person,” the man faltered. His dual colored eyes widened and looked over the chef’s face marking their similarities. Obanai felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up. He did not want to be here talking to him. 

“You’ve seen me, now leave,” Obanai’s voice raised an octave. 

He needed this man to vanish. He wanted nothing to do with him. This person had never wanted him either. His mother abused him because he left her. If it hadn’t been for this man, Obanai would never have existed and lived in constant fear and self loathing. Fuck him.

“I wanted to meet you,” he claimed. Their voices were similar too. The irony was not lost on him. He was a carbon copy of this man except his face was smooth, void of any disfigurement. There was a bitter taste in Obanai’s mouth. Wrinkles didn’t count. 

“Sure,” Obanai laughed bitterly. He never wanted to meet this man. This man wasn’t there to suffer the abuse. There was no need for him to come around then or now. That was made very clear. He leaned forward to get in this man’s face. 

“Leave now,” he ordered icily. Rage filled him, his veins freezing over. He would not be able to control it if the man kept speaking gibberish. 

Stupidly, the older version of himself shook his head. “I dated a woman named Iguro Tamami. I believe you could be my son-“ Obanai held up his hand. This person was nothing to him, but a blatant reminder he was unwanted his entire childhood. Scum to the ones who were supposed to care for him, not even acknowledged by this man sitting in front of him. 

“Your son? Not possible. I already have a father and he is nothing like you. You had 28 years to meet me. I have no interest in whatever you are going to say,” Obanai’s voice was getting louder.  He could not do this right now, not at his workplace. This was his second home. 

“I know this comes as a shock, but I didn’t know. I never gues-” The man tried to speak again. 

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant!” Obanai gritted his teeth. He did not want to make a scene here. “I don’t give a flying fuck what you didn’t know or know now.” He took a step back from the table. His hands were starting to tremble and he could feel the sweat on his brow. He had to leave now. The man pushed back his chair to approach Obanai. He said more words, but the chef didn’t register them. He just needed to run away as quickly as possible. His heart rate was speeding up, a wave of nausea passed over him, and the smell of blood filled his senses. He could not have a panic attack at work. Obanai held up his hand and walked into the kitchen to escape the grey haired man. 

“I have an emergency and have to leave. Chef Sabito, you’re in charge,” Obanai pointed a finger to the auburn haired man. He grabbed his keys and personal items from the locker. It was late enough there would not be as many customers. All he could think about was getting away from this place and people as quickly as possible. 

What was that man doing here? Part of him wanted to listen to what he had to say. All he had ever heard was his mother talk about him, but to see him in the flesh was completely different. His mother’s sweet voice crept in, You’re as handsome as your father. 

No, that man was nothing to him. Fuck. His fist tightened around his keys as he kicked open the back door. His shoes hit the pavement and he quickly walked to his Jeep. He got into the front seat and laid his head on the steering wheel. He had to get his breathing under control.  His fist was white from holding the keys so tightly. He focused solely on the feel of the cold metal in his hand, the ridges of the key biting into his skin if he pressed any harder, and the metallic scent of it grounding him. His breaths and heart rate slowed, disallowing his sympathetic system from causing the fight or flight reaction. 

The words that man said rung in his head. I wanted to meet you. I didn’t know. Obanai didn’t believe him. His mother had said they were engaged. She had the ring to prove it and imprinted it on his skin to remind him of the man’s betrayal. As soon as the man knew she was pregnant he left. 

I didn’t know. He had sounded so… dejected. Shocked. No, Obanai would not entertain this train of thought. He did not need another person in his life to complicate matters of his childhood. What a fucking mess he was. Obanai laughed, the acidic taste in his mouth burnt the back of his throat. This was ridiculous. 

They looked exactly alike. Their faces, the gold and teal eyes, sharp nose, and body shape were mirror images of each other. He took his mask off and put a hand over his mouth. He had thin lips like his mother though. The irony. The one trait he had from her , she had ruined. It was inappropriate to chuckle at his misfortune, but he did not know how else to respond. 

Resentment grew. That man was never there and now he appeared 28 years later? Hell no. Obanai would not give him any time. He bumped his head against the steering wheel again and again. Obanai had to get out of here. Only, he was not sure where to go. He knew if he went home, he would be tempted to self harm. 

Baby, your father would be so proud. Her voice sounded like venom. The venom spread over his veins, paralyzing him in the front seat. Tension pulled on his neck and shoulders. Outside he saw car lights driving by, catching his attention, drawing him out for a moment from the lattice prison of his mind. That man is not my father. He is nothing to me. He left me with her.  

“She shouldn’t have hurt you,” He whispered it like a mantra, attempting to ground himself. 

If that man had been there, it was possible she would not have hurt him. There was no way he would go down that line of thinking. As a child, he had hoped someone would come and save him, but no one ever did. Not his cousins, hospital workers, or Child Protective Services. No one had saved him, he escaped and saved himself by running away. He could only rely on himself. 

Except that was not true. Shinjuro had helped him by adopting him into the Rengoku family. Sanemi was his first friend that understood what Obanai had been through. Tengen, despite his obnoxious, asshole behavior, empathized with the survivor's guilt since he had been the only one to live after a fatal car accident that killed his brothers when he had been driving. Dr. Ubuyashiki had been his therapist for the past three years, helping him find the right tools to overcome his fear and apprehensions towards women. 

Then there was Mitsuri. She said she would listen if he ever needed her. She was the one he wanted to talk to the most right now. Her cheerful voice, gentle demeanor, and sweet scent. He unlocked his phone and saw the home screen. He changed it a few weeks ago to a photo of her, him, and Kaburamaru on New Year’s Eve. Her long pink and green hair cascaded down one shoulder as she rested her head against his shoulder. Her smile was brilliant, radiating the kindness he felt whenever he was around her. The moment they shared later that night and every day since only intensified his feelings despite the distance.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Obanai wanted to see and hold her. To bask in her sunlight like the wretched beast he was. In a state of disarray and mixed emotions, he was not sure he would be able to prevent himself from…What? From wanting her? That had been a flop since he tried convincing himself she could never want him. That was a lie. From touching her or kissing her? He was tired of it. These feelings of self-loathing, inadequacy, and fear. The fear of losing her as a friend. He stared at the speedometer behind the steering wheel and then back at his phone. Simplify it. 

He wanted Mitsuri. He was so tired of fighting himself. When he saw Douma flirt with her he wanted to tell the baker to fuck off. Obanai wasn’t her partner. It was unhealthy and possessive to keep her from talking to or dating other people when he would not act on their mutual feelings. He constantly reminded himself he was not good enough for her and never would be. He was done. 

Obanai put his keys in the ignition, turning them slowly. He let his instincts take over and drove to Mitsuri’s house. 

Car lights flashed in her living room window. Mitsuri pulled the curtain from her spot on the couch and saw Obanai’s familiar white Jeep in the gravel driveway. The last message she had from him was about going into work today to train the new cook. She picked up Sushi who was resting in her lap and headed to the front door. The car door slammed shut as she opened the door. 

Obanai strode up to her. His black hair was a mess. He was wearing a long sleeved black cotton shirt with black scrub pants. She blinked wondering why he was here. He was not the type of person to show up unexpectedly, yet here he was. Her stomach flipped as he came up the steps and stood in front of her. His arms rested at his sides as he stared intently at her face. 

“I hate not seeing you. I hate the distance between us since New Years. I hate keeping you at an arm’s length,” he confessed as if he had been reciting the words. His teal and gold eyes looked away from her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. 

Sushi adjusted himself in her arms, wiggling more when Obanai spoke. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her voice was absent. She didn’t know how to respond in a way that didn’t sound stupid. His jaw looked stiff beneath his mask. 

“When I say I can’t… what I mean is- Shit,” Obanai cursed. His posture became rigid as he tried to force words out. “It’s not-” He groaned and ran a hand through his messy black hair. 

“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?” Mitsuri asked. He opened his eyes again, meeting her gaze. They seemed glassy. Slowly, he nodded and she took a step back to let him in. He shut the door behind him and took off his shoes. They made their way to her kitchen. She set Sushi on the ground and he bounded off into the main hallway. There was tension in the air between her and Obanai. 

She filled her kettle with water from the sink and set it on the stove, turning the dial to a medium heat. Obanai stood by the island, watching her take two mugs with cat faces from the cabinet. She wanted to ask why he was here. They had hardly hung out alone in the past month due to their schedules and Mitsuri inadvertently avoided him by taking on more responsibilities. 

I hate not seeing you. A blush crept over her cheeks. She felt the same way. Her heart trembled in anticipation for what he wanted to say. It sounded as if he wanted to clarify whatever was going on between them and it wasn’t a rejection. Mitsuri busied herself measuring out the green tea leaves into tea infusers and setting them in the mugs. She glanced over at him, his two colored eyes watching her. By the time she was done the kettle screamed. She grabbed it and poured the steaming water over the tea infusers. 

“It should only take three minutes,” She said before turning away to find a straw for him. She invested in a set of stainless straws for him a while ago. Grabbing one from a cup, she placed it in the black cat mug and pushed it towards him. He wrapped his hands over the cat’s face. 

“I miss you too,” Mitsuri said, “If that’s what you meant earlier.” She removed the tea infuser and set it down on a paper towel. He did the same before taking a sip through the straw. She brought the red tabby mug to her lips and watched him through half lidded eyes. He cleared his throat. 

“It is. I want to tell you what happened tonight.” He shut his eyes for two seconds, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves. “There was a man who came to Nichirin. He looked nearly identical to me, only older and taller. His voice was the same too. There were too many similarities to say it was just a coincidence. He knew my mother’s name. She said my birth father left her. I told him I already had a father. Afterward, I had to leave. When I got to my car, you were the first person I wanted to tell,” he hesitated. She set her mug down on the island. 

She grabbed one of his hands. “What did the man have to say?” He had not referred to the man as his father so she would not either. 

“He said he saw my picture on the food blog about Nichirin and wanted to meet me. I was angry and lashed out. He told me he didn’t know about me.” He looked at their joined hands. 

“Do you believe him?” She asked. 

“Maybe. She always said he abandoned her after she told him she was pregnant… Now, I’m not sure. He sounded sincere,” Obanai sighed. “I left before he could say anything else or get his name.” He shivered. She lifted his hand to her face, pressing her lips lightly to his fingers as a way to comfort him. His slanted gaze widened for the briefest of seconds. 

“It must have been hard for him to come to meet you,” She said calmly. “If he was telling the truth, would you want to talk to him?” 

“Not really. Shinjuro asked every year if I wanted to find and meet my-That man. I always said no. Because of him,” Obanai squeezed his eyes shut again, wincing. He pulled his hand away from her to pull up his sleeves showing the silver marks up and down his forearms before raking his hands through his hair, pushing back his bangs. “I need a second,” he bent his head down as he steadied his breathing. 

“You don’t have to push yourself. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I don’t want to make it worse,” Mitsuri walked around the island to stand next to him. Clearly, he was in a state of shock having met his biological father. Based on the description, it would be hard to deny. How many men had gold and teal eyes? Let alone mentioning his mother by name. 

“No, I have to tell you before I lose my nerve. I hate staying away from you because of everything up here,” He pointed to his head. “My anxiety, depression, self doubt and loathing all compound on each other. 0 out of 5 stars.” He glanced her way.

Mitsuri smiled slightly at his self-deprecating joke. It would be sadder if she didn’t. To be anxious, depressed, and unfunny? It would be one step too far. 

“When I say I can’t...” he trailed off, “I mean, I’m broken. My mother started abusing me after I turned five. She had good and bad days. I never knew which one I would have, so I did whatever I thought would prevent the beatings. I tried to appease her by being the perfect son. It never worked. After she pushed me down the stairs, I stopped trying.” He took a deep breath. 

“After I turned twelve, I was cleaning dishes and broke a plate. She was drunk and stepped on a piece. I apologized, but it didn’t matter. When she drank she was more violent. She told me I was just like my father who was weak, pathetic, and worthless,” Obanai inhaled sharply. His eyes were glossy as if he was lost in the memory. She wanted to hold him and run her hands through his hair to comfort him. “She asked why I didn’t smile for her and that I needed to smile for her. I didn’t.” He looked down, staring at the steam rising out of the mug. 

“She had my cousins hold me down and cut open my face on both sides,” He closed his eyes and lifted one finger to his face, tracing a line from where the corner of his mouth was to right below his temple. Mitsuri covered her mouth, her eyes widening.

“I struggled and she ended up cutting deeper, so the scars are pretty grotesque. One of my cousins found some gauze to cover up my face before putting me in my room. Usually, my door was locked, but that night they had forgotten… I ran,” he swallowed, sweat forming on his forehead. 

“Obanai,” What could she say to him? She never experienced anything like that. Her parents were some of the kindest people she knew. Her siblings and her all got along. The worst experience she had with another person was Kyo. It was nothing compared to what Obanai went through. 

“If this is too much for you, you can tell me to stop,” he said, opening his eyes but stared at her countertop. “It’s a lot to dump on you.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…I can’t even begin to imagine the type of pain you experienced as a child and now. I said I would listen whenever you were ready to talk and I meant it,” she grabbed a paper towel. “If you want to wipe your forehead,” Mitsuri offered him the towel which he took, dabbing his brow. She shifted her body to face him. 

“Obanai, I’m in your corner no matter what. Since day one I liked learning about you. I liked hearing about how you discovered your love of cooking, how you made friends with Sanemi, and how you rescued Kaburamaru. Even though it's hard to listen to what you experienced, I never want you to feel like you cannot tell me something. I accept you as you are.”

He turned to face her and grabbed her hand resting on the counter. 

“Scars never bothered me.” Her words echo in his mind after she said she accepted him as he was. What she said emboldened him. He took her hand this time and interlaced their fingers. 

With his other hand, he removed one elastic band over his ear and then the other as quickly as possible. He shut his eyes not wanting to see the look of horror on her face. His fingers wrapped over the elastic band as it fell away from his face. The air hit his cheeks and he tried not to grimace as he waited for her response. 

She pulled her hand away. He had been right, she would reject him. He should not have done this. Obanai held his breath, forcing himself not to spiral in front of her. Sweat formed in his armpits. He moved to put the mask back over his face. This had been a stupid idea. 

Warmth enveloped his face as he felt two hands under his jaw. His breath hitched feeling her delicate hands encompassing his face. Her thumbs brushed over the disfigured skin. They ran from the corners of his mouth running up towards his temples along the main fissures and the scarred webbing above and below. She felt every groove and raised edge on his demonic face. The reason he hid his face from the world and the constant reminder of the consequences following the incident that left him an orphan. 

“I thought they would be worse,” she whispered. The back of her nails grazed the scars now. He could feel her breath on him. He opened his eyes and her face was centimeters away from him inspecting his marred face. Green eyes turned from his scars to his eyes. With her so close, the right side of her face was blurry. “You said I would cry if I saw them. I’m not. I’m just glad you showed me, Oba,” she gave him a small, closed mouth smile. The pads of her thumbs smoothed over his scars again. 

He had been so terrified of her seeing him for what he was and he still had that fear. He had not told her everything. At any time she might decide he was too much and leave. The palms of her hands were still on his cheeks. He found himself reaching up to cup one of her hands over his face. She let him. 

“Mitsuri, I’ve only shown a few people my face. My father, brothers, Sanemi, and a few others. I trust you.” It was the best he could muster. Mitsuri leaned her forehead against his. 

Time seemed to pause. All he could feel were her hands over his face, her large eyes looking back at him, and the soft sound of her breathing. “I’m really happy you trust me. Thank you for showing me,” She whispered. 

She accepted him. Nothing had ever felt better. Her voice was calm and sweet as always. The way she caressed his scars like she valued him for who he was. The tension he had been holding in his shoulders and neck subsided. She smiled at him and he felt the scars pull as he smiled back at her. He could not help it. This was all he had wanted, but never dared to dream someone like her existed. Someone who was willing to look past his scars, trauma, and his prickly personality. 

I love you, Mitsuri.  

His heart pounded. Yet… his heart felt light acknowledging what he had been unconsciously thinking for months.  He loved her. A simple truth. He wasn’t sure when he started loving her. He just did. 

Since the moment he met her, he thought she was beautiful with her pink and green hair and her shining green eyes. The way she smiled anytime their eyes met even when she barely knew him. She protected those she cared about in subtle ways, not aggressively defending them, but remaining steady and calm in the face of adversity. He was lucky to have someone like her in his life. 

Obanai still believed he shouldn’t tarnish her light with his dark presence. She was the sun and he was a shadow. Or maybe he was a dark sunflower rising from the dirt to bask in the sun. As of now, he was not deserving of her. She deserved better than him. He swallowed. Except he did not want her to be with anyone else. Obanai decided he had to become better for her and himself. Only then he would tell her he loved her.

Chapter Text

Late February to Late March

When Mitsuri woke up that morning she was lying on her L shaped couch. She stretched her arms above her head remembering Obanai had spent the night. He showed his scars to her. An honor few have managed. His teal and amber eyes were so frightened right before he took off his mask. When he did though, every fiber of her being wanted to touch him. To look and feel his face behind the surgical mask. He was handsome with or without the scars. She did not care about them because she liked him. She liked the person he was and how he made her feel like she was the only person in a crowded room with a single look. 

She turned on her side to stare at him. He was still sleeping. She smiled to herself. He seemed so calm resting perpendicular to her. 

All she wanted to do was reach out to touch his face and caress the scars. They truly were not as bad as he made them out to be. There was a jagged line running from his mouth to his ears and smaller lines branching off of it. The largest groove was pink, while the others were a shiny pale pink or silver. While she thought they would be rough and leathery, his skin was soft. 

They were a part of him. It didn’t distract from his attractive features. Between his slanted, heterochromatic eyes, sharp nose, and thin pink lips, he was rather handsome. 

His kind smile as she touched the scars made her knees weak. It was the first time she saw his actual smile, not just the way his eyes closed just a fraction and they crinkled. She never wanted to see him wear the mask again. When she leaned into him, touching foreheads, she wanted to close the three centimeters between them and kiss. She wondered if he would have let her. She shook her head. 

It wasn’t the time for that considering everything else that happened. He had been stressed out from meeting the man he believed to be his father. There were too many unanswered questions there and between them. Whatever was between them could wait while he figured out his next steps. 

Seeing him sleeping so soundly made her heart flutter. More than that, he trusted her with his past. He had not explained everything, but with time he would. Obanai said he didn’t want to keep her at arm’s length any more. She sat up, making sure to move quietly. She reached her hands up to her face and felt the heat coming off of them. Mitsuri set her feet on the ground and stood up. She cast one more glance at her crush before heading into the kitchen to make them breakfast. 

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Obanai knelt down at his desk, staring at the stationary. He normally wrote letters for Mitsuri here. They would write to each other while on missions, making plans to eat at a new restaurant when they were at headquarters at the same time. Today he meant to write a letter for her to read after he died fighting Muzan. 

He unraveled the bandages on his face and laid them on the table beside Kaburamaru. No one else was here and no one visited the Serpent Hashira’s home except for Mitsuri and Sanemi. Both were still out on missions. He was being sent out on one tomorrow. 

The blank page seemed to glare at him. Obanai knew the time was coming when Muzan would strike. Tengen and that boy killed one of the Upper Moons. It was the first time in over 100 years to occur. Things were changing. If other Upper Moons showed up on missions to avenge their fallen moon, then he would not have another time to write this letter. They could very well kill him before he even faced the demon lord. He picked up his writing brush and began.

Miss Kanroji,

Please don’t cry for long after my demise. I meant to die fighting Muzan, so do not think of it as a sorrow. There was no other option for me, not with the life I was born to.

I was born to be sacrificed to a snake demon that my family worshiped. My family gave their infants to her as payment for the riches, jewels, and land she provided for them. I was the first boy to be born in over 350 years and had eccentric eyes. I was kept alive and offered up as a sacrifice when I was older and bigger. The snake demon kept me in a cage like a prized pig until I was 12. I was presented to her and said to be too small, but she wanted a taste and asked my family to carve my face to look like her’s. After my family cut my face, I used a hair piece to cut a hole through my cage and escaped. I sneaked out in the middle of the night. The former Flame Hashira found me and killed the snake demon before she devoured me. Because of my escape, everyone in my family died except for a cousin. I was the reason for their deaths. For that reason, I was as vile, tainted, and greedy as they were. If I had just died, they would have lived. 

I have carried shame and self loathing every day. The only way I felt better was when I killed demons. A small bit of good grew each time I slayed one until I met you. 

Thank you for the past two years. I appreciated every second I spent with you. Talking about your cats, family, and anything that came to your mind. Eating meals together. Learning about the world through your green eyes. You are the kindest person and I consider myself lucky to have called you a friend. 

If we are ever reborn in a world without demons, I hope we are friends.

Obanai bit his lip. He would be dead by the time she read this letter. Would it be better or worse if he told her he loved her? Or would he just be telling her to make himself feel better? She had someone she loved and wanted to marry. He looked up at the night sky, staring at the moon. She should know.

That is a lie. If we have another chance I want to tell you I have loved you since the moment we met. Your kindness, your compassion, and your courage was everything to me. You were a light in the darkness I surrounded myself in. In our next life, I hope I am able to love you and if I am deserving you will love me back. 

It was selfish of me to tell you like this. I know you love another man, but I had to tell you. In this life, I hope you marry him, have children, and grow old with your loved ones near. You deserve everything and the moon, Mitsuri. 

Iguro Obanai

He looked over the letter. Tomorrow morning he would read again and rewrite it if needed. Or throw it away. Carefully, he folded the sheet of paper and placed it under a box. Before he died, he would leave a list of instructions for the survivors. He would give his belongings and Kaburamaru to Sanemi and the rest of his resources would be given to Mitsuri. With his death, she would be able to live a long life with her future husband without worries. Let her be happy until her last breath. He sent a silent prayer to the gods, if there were any. 

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Obanai woke up and rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes. Opening his eyes, he took in the unfamiliar scenery. His head was resting on a pillow against an armrest. A thin blanket over his body. There was a wooden coffee table and a television stand with origami cranes. This was Mitsuri’s house. 

On top of the coffee table was his paper surgical mask. He sat up quickly and tossed the blanket off before grabbing the mask. Obanai paused remembering last night. He met his biological father, he nearly had a panic attack, he went to Mitsuri’s, and then told her about his facial scars. When he took off his mask, she held his face as she caressed his scars…He realized he loved her. He felt his cheeks heat up. 

That must be why he dreamt of writing a letter to her about his past, shame, and love confession. This was the second time he dreamt of this fictional universe. It felt almost like deja vu. Obanai rubbed one of his eyes. Perhaps the dreams were trying to show him an alternative universe or his subconscious thoughts. Were the dream’s demons supposed to symbolize his internalized self loathing, doubt, and guilt? It was too early for meta-thinking. 

Clink! His head turned towards her kitchen at the sound of pans being moved around. What was Mitsuri doing? He set his feet on the ground before standing up. Sushi darted out from under the couch to attack his feet and then fled. Obanai watched the white and red cat run down the hallway to her kitchen. Sushi was an eccentric one. Obanai followed him. 

Mitsuri was bobbing her head to music as she flipped over a piece of toast in a pan. Her feet were moving in time with the rhythm. Her back was turned to him and he watched her dancing in front of the stove with her earbuds in. He brought his hand to his lips to cover up his smile. Her ability to live in the moment endeared him to her. He waited another minute watching her, content in her own little world. She shook her head side to side as she raised her hands above her head and snapped her fingers. Her long hair was down running down her back like a pink bubblegum river. She had been on the dance team in high school. Based on her smooth, coordinated movements, she still practiced. 

“Good morning, Mitsuri,” he greeted, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms.  

She jumped up at the sound of his voice before turning to face him. Mitsuri took out her ear buds and gave him a nervous smile, “How much of it did you see?” Wide green eyes looking sheepishly at him. 

He brought his hand above his head and snapped, “Enough.”  

Her cheeks blushed and she turned back to her cooking, “Please forget you saw anything. It’s been a while since I actually danced. I promise I’m better than what you saw just now... I’m making us French toast.” 

Obanai smelled the cinnamon and vanilla. It was sickeningly sweet and his nose wrinkled. He used his sleeve to cover his nose and part of his face. Though she had seen his face, he felt naked without the mask. It hid many of his expressions and he worried how she would react to him twisting his mouth in disgust when he ate. Decadent, sweet food never settled well in his stomach. He walked further into the kitchen and stood by the island, where they had been last night. 

“I didn’t use any sugar for you,” She looked over her shoulder as she set a piece of French Toast on a plate. It was the small details she remembered about him that created butterflies in his stomach. “I wasn’t sure when you would wake up, so I already ate a few pieces of mine. I’ll start yours.” She took the pan she had been using off the burner and placed a different one on. 

“Did you sleep well?” She asked as she dipped a slice of bread into the egg mixture. He looked between the one she was using versus the other. This one had less cinnamon in it. She even made it more mild to fit his tastes. 

“Well enough,” his voice always seemed rough in the mornings. There were bags under his eyes most days. She used tongs to put the bread onto the hot pan. It sizzled.  Mitsuri sidestepped to another cabinet and took out a cup. She filled it with water and set it down in front of him. 

“What were you listening to?” He asked before drinking from the cup. Usually he drank from a straw, so the sensation of the cool glass against his mouth made him pause. 

Mitsuri glanced at her phone screen before reading the title, “Snap by Rosa Linn.” She flipped the bread over in the skillet. The other side had a light brown crust with flecks of cinnamon. 

He had never heard of it. They were silent until she placed the French toast on a plate for him and set it down in front of him with a fork and knife and a dish of butter. She was on the opposite side with her share of it. He gulped as she waited for him to take a bite. 

“I don’t have a large appetite,” he commented as he picked up the fork, using the edge of it to wedge off a small piece. 

“I know. I wanted to share a meal with you face to face if that’s alright,” she gave him an encouraging smile before pouring syrup all over her toast. How could he refuse her? He had wanted to do the same. Mitsuri took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. He pierced a piece and took a bite. The taste was sweeter than what he was used to, but not to the point he had to spit it out or make a face. It was warm from the cinnamon and vanilla. Obanai shut his eyes as he swallowed. This was normal. All he wanted was to be a normal man eating breakfast with the woman he loved. 

“Do you like it?” She asked, hesitantly. He nodded his head. 

“I don’t normally eat sweet foods, but it’s good, not overly sugary,” he answered, covering his mouth with his hand. Her whole face lit up and she leaned over the counter. He saw her wiggle in place at the praise. Mitsuri was adorable. 

“How would you rate it? Be honest,” she urged him. “It’s not every day I have a chef critique my cooking.”

He took another bite and tried to divide the different aspects. Flavor, texture, quality of ingredients, moisture, and temperature. “I give this about four out of five stars. The bread you used is higher quality, but is a bit too wet. The spices are well balanced with the cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla,” he said. She nodded her head once. “I never give anything five out of five stars,” he added.

“How could I improve it?”

“Dry out the bread the night before. It will be easier for it to soak up the egg mixture and be more cohesive,” Obanai answered quicker than expected. 

She touched a finger to her lips. “I never thought about that. I’ll have to try it next time.” Mitsuri started cutting up her own food and taking bites. He finished his meal in a comfortable silence that settled between them. If only they could do this every day. 

He kept his left hand up to cover part of his face. The mask had covered his shame. She had said they didn’t bother her. He would have to get used to leaving his face unmasked around her. Her smile and eyes were still warm and welcoming as she spoke to him. Although he trusted her, his anxiety was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.   

“What are your plans for the day?” Mitsuri asked. 

“I was going to do laundry… but with everything that happened last night I will go over to Shinjuro’s,” Obanai said. A shadow crossed over her face. 

“How are you feeling now?” She set her fork down and met his gaze. 

There was a mixture of feelings running through him. Uncertainty, shame, disbelief, and warmth. Last night he should have gotten the man’s name at the very least. Obanai never had any desire to find him, but he had been in shock. He had never expected to meet his biological father, especially ambushed at work. His reactions were purely based on emotion and he was ashamed to admit it, but part of him wondered what else the man had to say. If the man was telling the truth, his mother lied. What else had she lied about? He didn’t want to dwell on her now. 

In Mitsuri’s presence, he felt like he was standing under the sun. He licked his lips and his mouth twitched behind his hand. Last night he decided he would no longer deny his feelings for her. Accepting the fact that he needed to be a better person before he told her. If she was still willing by then. Who knew how long it would take? 

“I’m not quite sure,” he finally spoke. “There’s a lot to process. I never thought or suspected I would meet him.” 

Mitsuri took his plate and settled it on top of her plate before pushing them to the side. “It’s understandable. I’m not sure how I would react if I were in this type of situation,” she said. She glanced down. 

“Obanai,” Mitsuri started and pursed her lips. “I wanted to say it’s okay that you can’t. You have a lot happening all at once, so if you can’t, I understand. We can go back to the way things were before New Years. I won’t pressure you for more.”

His veins froze over and his mouth suddenly felt dry. That wasn’t what he meant. He wanted more. So much more than what they were right now. His head pounded and he wanted to hit himself. He couldn’t find the words to deny her without revealing his love for her and his belief he was unworthy of her affections. He couldn’t ask her to wait for him. That would be selfish, cruel, and toxic. 

“I meant, I wanted us to go back to-“ he tried to find the words. “I wanted us to start hanging out again without the awkwardness, not that-“ he looked away this time. “Not that I don’t want more,” he whispered. Part of him hoped she did not hear the last part. His insides squirmed with unease. He wanted to hide his face, but without the mask it was near impossible. His raven black hair was the best shield he had.

“So… do you-do you want more?” Mitsuri said with surprise. Her voice was shaky, stumbling over her words. 

He still was not looking at her and nodded once stiffly. More than you know. No doubt his cheeks and ears were reddening. She elicited feelings he did not realize he was capable of. As the sun, Mitsuri casted rays of light on everyone. He was one of many who benefited from her light. 

She gasped. He cast her a sideways glance. Her face was completely red as she covered her open mouth with both hands. She was adorable and he hated himself for not being able to just pull her into him and kiss her senseless against the counter. Or on top of it. Promise to give her the moon. Pin her hands above her head- He had to leave before his thoughts ran rampant like that other time. 

He cleared his throat, “I have to get home and feed Kaburamaru before seeing Shinjuro.”

“Yes, of course. I won’t keep you,” Mitsuri’s voice was higher than normal. 

Obanai took a step back and walked back into the main living space where his keys and phone were. He heard her follow behind him. He grabbed his stuff off the coffee table and went to the front door. He put his work shoes on and looked behind him where Mitsuri stood. 

“I’ll see you,” he waved. She stepped forward without speaking and wrapped her arms around him. She held him tighter than normal. 

“I’m really happy you came to me after what happened and showed me your scars. I want to know everything about you,” she whispered. She already had his heart. His arms encircled her. “I’m glad we were able to eat together,” she added. 

“Me too, Mitsuri,” he whispered against her neck. Obanai pulled her into him, removing any space between their bodies. If he wasn’t careful, he would fall further into this fantasy. Her hands grasped the back of his shirt.

They held each other for a few moments longer neither willing to let the other go. Her body pressed into him. Her touch made his resolve weaken. He had missed her vanilla and sakura perfume that she put in her neck. At this moment, Obanai felt safe and cared for. Something he was not used to feeling. She was making it very difficult to leave as she rested her head against his shoulder with a soft sigh.

Give me time. He wanted to say. It would be too much to ask. Mitsuri was not some prize he got for becoming a better person. If she still felt the same way by the time he met his goal then he would ask her out. Kiss her. Love her. Everything he could do to make her feel loved. Once he was deserving of her. 

He let his arms fall to her sides and Mitsuri released him. “Let’s meet up on Tuesday at the gym,” she suggested. He agreed as he put his mask back on and left.

Mitsuri felt like she was floating. He wanted more. She wanted more. They wanted more. When he pulled out of her driveway she squealed, unable to contain her glee. She bounced up and down on her feet like a middle school girl. She covered her cheeks with her hands and grinned like an idiot. Her heart was pounding against her chest. 

Badum. Badum.

It had taken everything in her not to kiss his sweet face. He was so shy. The way he bobbed his head when she asked if he wanted more was the cutest thing she had ever seen. His shoulder length hair hid his face, but when he turned back to face her his cheeks were tinted red. All this time… she held a hand over her chest. All this time they had wanted the same thing. 

Mitsuri knew he had misgivings because of his past, mental health issues, and last night’s events. Obanai called himself ‘broken’. She liked him as he was, broken or not. To her he wasn’t broken. He was a work in progress. Whatever he was going through she wanted to support him as a friend first. It was complicated and he still seemed hesitant to tell her exactly what he felt for her. 

There was an understanding between the two of them. They held romantic feelings for each other, but had not outright admitted it. She was the first person he wanted to tell about meeting his biological father. That meant something if nothing else. Ever since they met she had felt a connection with him. One that went deeper than friendship. It was more intimate in a way she could not explain. A mixture of understanding, empathy, vulnerability, and honesty. 

He let down his barriers last night and shared more than he ever had. Only his family and close friends ever saw his whole face… He considered her to be as close as the others. Mitsuri’s head felt light, buzzed with the knowledge Obanai was letting her into his inner circle of trusted friends and family. If he let her, she would be his greatest defender and shield.

Obanai stood at the doorstep of Shinjuro’s house. He had sent a message right after he left Mitsuri’s house letting him know he wanted to stop by. Shinjuro opened the door and smiled at his son. He stepped into the house and took off his jacket and shoes. 

“I planned on going for a hike with Senjuro if you wanted to join us,” Shinjuro invited him. 

“Not today,” Obanai shook his head as they headed towards the living room. Shinjuro took a seat in his leather recliner and Obanai sat on the couch. Shinjuro was one of the first people he met outside of his biological family. Obanai licked his lips and fiddled with the seam on the side of his pants. 

Shinjuro’s eyes were calm compared to Kyojuro’s piercing stare. Shinjuro waited patiently as Obanai attempted to explain what had occurred last night. He would leave the parts with Mitsuri out of it. Obanai scratched the back of his neck before telling his father exactly what happened at the restaurant. Shinjuro pursed his lip and nodded at appropriate times. 

“I wish I had reacted differently. I should have gotten his name,” Obanai admitted. Shinjuro crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“If he paid with a credit card you might be able to get a name,” Shinjuro said. 

“I told him to leave before he even ordered. I doubt he stayed after I left. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him,” Obanai crossed his legs. 

“Hmmm, I could see if my PI friend could track him down,” Shinjuro offered. “I can’t promise anything though.” 

“Understood,” Obanai looked down. “Also, I don’t mean to replace you. You are the only father I have ever known. I am only interested to find out what he had to say and see if he can offer any answers regarding my mother.” 

“Obanai,” Shinjuro began. His two colored eyes went back to his father. “When I first met you, barefoot and crying, I decided you were my son as much as Kyojuro and Senjuro. Just because this man shows up doesn’t change that.” He leaned forward in his recliner. “You are my son.” He reaffirmed, his red-yellow eyes holding Obanai’s gaze. 

This is where Kyojuro got his ability to make someone be seen with a single look. Earnest and steady, but not overbearing. Obanai had to blink rapidly to prevent any tears from leaking out of his eyes. 

“You have been through a lot. Your brothers and I care for you. Kyojuro told me you asked for his advice last month. He was rather vague about the specifics of the conversation, but I was surprised that you confided in him. In the past, you have kept everything close to your chest, not allowing anyone to help unless absolutely necessary. Even in a situation like this I doubt you would have come to me or anyone else if it had been three years ago. You would have suffered in silence. I’m proud of you for coming to tell me, Obi,” Shinjuro grinned at him. Shinjuro was the only person he would allow to call him ‘Obi’. 

Now, several tears poured out of the corners of his eyes. His vision blurred. He bent his head and stared at the floor with his hands holding up his head. Relief washed over him at his father’s words. The tension he had been holding onto fell. 

Kyojuro and Shinjuro both pointed out the fact he was changing as a person. It was difficult for himself to see the changes he had made in the past three years other than the obvious. Losing his hatred and fear of women, taking the Head Chef position, and learning to handle stressful situations and events without resorting to self harm. He paused thinking. The last time he had self harmed had been in August, nearly six months without hurting himself. He had been close last night. However, he was able to curtail it by remembering the people in his life he could rely on. He was changing and developing as a person, he just needed time to see it. 

“I’m trying to be better,” Obanai responded. “I don’t want to live a life where my past and issues define my future. Not anymore.” He paused, debating whether or not to ask. It was a fleeting idea, but after seeing Mitsuri this morning he decided to take a chance. 

“Can you teach me how to dance?” 

Mitsuri: How did it go? 

Obanai: Well. He has a friend who works as a private investigator. 

Mitsuri: Oh, that’s convenient. I need to get one of those. 

Obanai: For what?

Mitsuri: I’m not sure… Insurance scams? Or to find Captain Sushi should he ever escape? 

Obanai: I don’t think PIs find lost animals.

Mitsuri: Are you an expert on them now? 😛

Mitsuri: Are we still on for the gym on Tuesday night? 

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri speed walked past Gyomei and gave him a quick hello. She had to hurry to the admin office before the secretary left for the day. In her hand was the completed design for the STEM fair. She just needed to catch the secretary and admin to approve the design by tomorrow morning. Then she could send the fliers out and there would be one less worry. 

“Mitsuri,” Gyomei called out as she passed. 

She turned to face him but kept walking backwards, “Give me two minutes, I have to drop this off.” He was talking to another man. Black wavy chin length hair pulled into a small ponytail in the back. Red eyes and pale skin. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him before. She would figure it out later.

Mitsuri opened the office door not remembering her own strength and ended up slamming the door handle into the wall. The secretary threw her an annoyed look and Mitsuri flushed with a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that.”

She set her flier down on the counter right above the secretary’s desk at the front. “Can you make sure this is at the top of the stack for Dr. Ubuyashiki to look at tomorrow? I want to get this out ASAP.”

“You and everyone else, Miss Kanroji,” He mumbled and picked up the flier with his cerulean colored nails flickered under the fluorescent lights. 

“Please?” She put her hands together. He frowned and put the paper at the bottom of his basket. “I will be in your debt,” She tried pleading. 

“What do you have to offer?” He looked up at her with blue eyes. A bored expression on his face as he propped his chin on top of his hand. 

“My undying gratitude?” Mitsuri said the first thing that came to mind. Enmu continued to stare at her and then yawned. “I’m a good baker. I could make you anything you want,” the pink haired woman tried again. 

He tapped one finger to his lips weighing her offering. The man pulled back his lips and narrowed his eyes. “How about you make me Dorayaki? If I like it then I will think about handing it to her directly. Get them to me tomorrow morning,” he said. 

“Okay, I’ll do my best,” Mitsuri chirped and then walked out of the office. She pulled on one of her braids, frustrated with his flippant personality. Wrinkling her nose, she noticed the man speaking to Gyomei waving at her and she walked over to them. He was wearing a tight fitting suit with red spider lilies embroidered on the sleeves. Tengen would approve of his flashiness. 

“Mitsuri,” Gyomei turned his head in her direction. “This is Mr. Kibutsuji. He was just volunteering to talk about chemistry at the STEM fair.” Red eyes looked her up and down. He probably thought she was an idiot running around the school. 

Mitsuri held out her hand and shook the pale man’s hand, “Really? I would appreciate it. We already have a botanist, an actuary, physics teacher, and psychologist, so a chemist would be great to add. Gyomei is going to talk about geology. How did you hear about it?” 

“My cousin, Dr. Ubuyashiki, mentioned his wife would be hosting this. I figured I could offer myself if you didn’t have a chemist yet,” Mr. Kibutsuji said. His red eyes seemed to look through her before they settled on her face. “Now, I must attend.” 

“That’s so kind of you, Mr. Kibutsuji,” She said. One less person she had to try to recruit. That must also be why he looked familiar if he was related to Dr. Ubuyashiki’s husband. Mitsuri never met him officially but had seen him pick up their four children in the car line. Only her husband had lavender eyes whereas this man had wine red. 

“You may call me Muzan if I can call you Mitsuri,”  he smiled at her. 

“Of course, can I get your number and we can go over details as we get closer to the event?” Mitsuri asked. Muzan handed her his phone and she entered her name and number. “Thank you so much. I hate to be rude, but I have to get out of here for a cake testing,” Mitsuri said, trying to leave.

“Oh, are you getting married?” Muzan asked, raising an eyebrow.  

“Me? No, I’m single. This is for my best friend and I’m her maid of honor,” Mitsuri laughed. 

Sort of single? She thought of Obanai and her cheeks reddened. While they admitted to wanting more, neither one tried to do more than hug in the past few weeks. The impatient part of her wanted to push him against a wall and kiss him the last time they went to the gym. Only, she wasn’t sure how he would respond to her being forceful considering the abuse his mother inflicted on him. Mitsuri would let him take the lead. 

Obanai wouldn’t be able to make the cake testing this time. Shinjuro and his brothers were celebrating Senjuro passing his midterms. She wished he had invited her out with them. She had yet to meet Shinjuro, the man who saved Obanai as a child. Would it be okay to thank him or would that be weird? 

Tomorrow was the last day of school before Spring Break. She would be spending her Spring Break here instead of visiting her family. She would be at the school painting the cafeteria mural nearly everyday. Gyomei offered to come in and help carry anything she needed. She agreed to let him come the first day to set up the painting ladders, supplies, and canvas drop cloths. Environmental services were supposed to take the lunch tables and chairs to the gym or place everything in the middle of the room and cover it with large sheets of plastic. She hoped it was the first one. 

“I am too,” Muzan replied. He held her gaze before looking down at her lips. “I look forward to meeting you again, Mitsuri. Have a good day you two.” Muzan dipped his head and walked away.

Had he been flirting with her? He definitely flirted. She didn’t have time to worry about that. She had the cake testing and then had to spend the night making Dorayaki for Enmu. Why had she agreed to it?

“You must be quite beautiful, Mitsuri. I have yet to meet a man that wasn’t taken by you,” The second grade teacher jested. 

“I wouldn’t call myself beautiful. Cute maybe, but not beautiful,” She confessed. Between her heart shaped face, green eyes, and pink hair, the only term people used to describe her was cute. No one called her beautiful. Gyomei leaned down. 

“Beauty is more than appearance. You have a gentle, loving soul, Mitsuri, so in my mind you are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met,” Gyomei gave her a reassuring smile. 

“Gyomei, I feel the same way about you,” She gave him a hug. “How are you still single?” 

“I haven’t found the right guy yet. If you see him, send him my way. Just make sure he announces himself,” the giant patted her shoulder. 

“Will do. I have to get going for real now. See you tomorrow!” Mitsuri ran down the hallway to grab her purse and keys. It was going to be a long night. 

Three weeks after he spent the night at Mitsuri’s place, Obanai was in the waiting room for his therapy session. The receptionist checked him in. Two children ran screaming through the frosted door with their father trailing behind them. He grimaced hearing them yell. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki came through the office door and gestured for him to follow. Obanai gave one last glance at the two girls and their father who was trying to quiet them. The father gave Obanai an apologetic smile as he walked past them. 

Obanai sat down on the couch facing the dark haired man. Two weeks ago, Obanai said he wanted to try something different, more intensive and the therapist suggested Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing Therapy or EMDR for short. 

The idea was to recall a traumatic event while looking between two points. In theory, the brain did not originally store the traumatic memory properly and EMDR was meant to help reassess and reprocess the memory through bilateral eye movement. Dr. Ubuyashiki said by the end Obanai’s memories will no longer seem as though he’s reliving what occurred. He would try anything at this point. 

“Last time we worked on the memory regarding your facial scars. Have you had any negative thoughts or triggers with your scars since then?” 

“Other than hating the way they look, no. I recall the knife piercing my skin, but I don’t feel the same terror I did before,” he answered. The therapist wrote down something on his notepad. 

“We can discuss self image another time. Now, which memory are we working on today?” 

“My escape,” he swallowed. He felt his breathing pick up, anticipating the regret and guilt about to come barreling through his mind. 

“Obanai, I want you to follow my finger as you work through this,” he started moving his pointer finger in a rhythmic motion back and forth in front of his face. 

Just do it. He thought to himself, pushing past the initial anxiety. 

“I opened the door to my room. It was always locked. I don’t know who forgot, but I was grateful to them. I crept up the steps as quietly as possible. No one was awake. I came to the front room. I heard something hit the floor and ran bumping into the side table and knocking a lit candle off. I looked back for a second and saw the curtains catch fire as I opened the front door and ran. I recall the gravel, dirt, and rocks stabbing my bare feet. Each stride made it worse, but I didn’t stop. There were no calluses on my feet to protect the skin. The pain between my mouth and feet were practically the same at the end of the night,” he shivered and shut his eyes. 

“This will only work if you keep your eyes open,” he said calmly. Obanai opened his eyes again. “Let’s pull back for a second. You were in pain, scared, and running. What else did you feel? Why did you keep running?”

Obanai’s eyes continued to follow the therapist’s finger. “Apprehension. Uncertainty,” he bit his lip. “Wonder. I was never allowed to be outside unless supervised and even then it happened seldomly and almost always at night. I felt a sliver of hope. If I was able to escape then I would never be tormented again. I would be free to live a life without pain.”

Obanai cleared his throat. “I wanted to see the sunrise. I went as far as I could without stopping because I did not want to know what the repercussions would be for escaping. When I found another house on the gravel road I banged on the door. An old man came out. He saw my bloody face and feet and tried to get me inside. I told him there was a fire in whispers and pointed in the direction of my mother's house. There was smoke billowing in the early morning. He called the fire and police departments. Within the hour I was standing outside of my mother’s house which had burnt down to the frame. My mother was dead along with my three cousins.” He paused. 

“My cousin, Kiwa, lived through it. A medic was walking her to the ambulance when she saw me. She charged, knocking me to the ground, and started yelling that it was all my fault everyone died and that I should be the one burnt to ash. She called me trash and wished she never helped me that night. She was the one to help bandage my face,” He gulped. “The medic and Shinjuro had to put her in the ambulance. What she said…It was unreasonable, but I’ve carried the shame and guilt the rest of my life. Shinjuro took me home with him and the rest is history.” 

Dr. Ubuyashiki set his finger down and Obanai looked directly into those calm lavender eyes. “I would not go as far as to say the rest is history. Your past informs your future. There’s more to unravel, but it can wait. Do you believe you are at fault?”

“When I was a child I would have said yes. I self harmed whenever I thought back on how I could have changed what I did that night. I could have stayed in my room and let them continue with the abuse. Then they could have survived,” Obanai sighed and rubbed his temples. 

He looked at the floor, staring at the design to ease his mind. He was talking in should, could, and would again. The past happened as it did. It couldn’t be changed, but he could change his perception of the event and himself. 

“Now I realize I was not completely at fault. The fire had been an accident. The candle was lit with no one present. I never meant to kill them. I only wanted to live like any other person,” Obanai admitted. 

“You have every right to want to live, Obanai,” Dr. Ubuyashiki validated him. “Now what sort of physical symptoms are you experiencing now?”

He shut his eyes, focusing on the sensations. His shoulders and neck were stiff and rigid. There was the need to fidget with the silicon snake attached to his key chain. However, his heart wasn’t racing and his mind wasn’t shutting down. The need to hurt himself was not at the forefront of his mind. That was different. 

He listed off his physical symptoms. “I don’t feel the need to hurt myself like I normally do after talking about the incident,” Obanai looked up to see the therapist noting down more notes. 

“In previous sessions, you mentioned you feel the need to hurt yourself because of the guilt and shame surrounding their deaths. How would you rate those?” 

Obanai took a moment to respond. “I’m always going to have guilt about the incident, but it’s less than usual. If I dwell on the memory of their deaths for too long, I get the urge.”

“Perhaps in some way you are trying to keep them alive through self-harm,” His lavender eyes pinned Obanai to his seat. “The wounds and scars act as a way to keep them alive in your memory and their control over you. You do not owe them anything just because they are gone and you’re still here.” 

Obanai felt his body tense at Dr. Ubuyashiki’s directness. He had not thought of it in that way before. He recognized the regret, insecurity, and shame in every silver mark up and down his arms and face, but he never contributed the act as a way to immortalize his family. Normally, he felt their burnt arms reaching out of the ground to pull him down to Hell when they discussed such matters. Right now though, he could see their limbs, but they did not touch him. Almost as if he had a barrier around him. 

“It’s progress. Not every session is going to be a breakthrough,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said before glancing at the clock. “What else would you like to talk about or come to mind?”

Obanai licked his lips. “I’m not sure. Things with Mitsuri are mostly back to the way it was before New Years. The PI said he might have one lead on my bio father. Nichirin’s staff is becoming more dependable.”

“What type of lead does he have?” 

“He has been looking through newspapers from 1993 to 1996 to see if there’s any mention of my mother or family,” Obanai explained. 

“I hope something comes up,” Dr. Ubuyashiki commented as he leaned forward in his chair. “Now, let’s roll back to Mitsuri. You said you showed her your face scars and that she had no issue with them. You referred to your scars as the barrier between you two, but now that barrier is gone.”

The younger man shifted in his seat. There were more barriers than just his scars. She did not know his full past. He had crippling self doubt, loathing, and self-esteem issues that needed to be handled. He was making improvements, but not enough. To boost his self-esteem, he had been saying daily affirmations and avoided comparing himself to Kyojuro and others. There were aspects of Obanai’s personality that were likable, he reminded himself. He was steadfast, humorous, and sharp witted. All he needed was time. 

“There’s other complications. I haven’t told her about the fire or my family’s deaths. I want to be… whole before I tell her how I feel, not half a person. She deserves more,” Obanai said. Dr. Ubuyashiki nodded, not moving an inch as if he was inspecting Obanai. His brows raised briefly as he pursed his lips. 

“Before you say she deserves more or better, I wonder what her thoughts are. You said she wants more than friendship and you do too. Have you asked her exactly what she wants?” the therapist asked. Obanai shook his head. 

“If you want a relationship with Mitsuri, you must realize it takes two or more people to be involved. You cannot make decisions one sided. It comes down to communication. Obanai, your homework is to ask Mitsuri what she wants. It doesn’t necessarily have to be about the two of you. You could ask her what sort of coffee she likes, her favorite movie or book, or what she wants from you specifically. You cannot read her mind. Give her the chance to choose if she wants you as a ‘whole’ or ‘half’ person,” Dr. Ubuyashiki leaned back and tapped his wrist indicating their time was up. 

Mitsuri: Are you still able to help me Thursday with the mural?

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri: Hurray! Thank you so much! 🙂I’ll make you matcha cookies

Obanai: There’s no need. 

Mitsuri: But I have to pay you for helping me. 

Obanai: You don’t owe me anything. I offered to come in. 

Mitsuri: … 🥺

Obanai: 🪱

Mitsuri: Umm, why did you send me a worm? 

Obanai: I thought it was a snake. I decided to send you a cryptid emoji like the one you sent. 

Mitsuri: lol the one I sent means I’m touched/happy. One day you will understand ☺️

Obanai: Alright. 🐍

Mitsuri: Awww you found the snake! 

In the past three days, Mitsuri had been able to paint most of the background for the mural. Gyomei came to help on Monday for a few hours where he moved some desks and other items out of the cafeteria. Kanae came Tuesday and helped paint the spring and summer sections. She also got an email from Enmu that he had given Dr. Ubuyashiki the STEM fair flier the last day of school and the principal approved. 

The four seasons were split into columns where each one faded into the next. There portions of the fall and winter section she needed to add more details to or adjust the shading, but she would finish those when the creatures were painted on. Maybe the creatures would cover up some of the stuff she needed to repaint. 

There were twelve animal stencils resting on the drop cloth. Three animals would go in each season. She would have to get Obanai’s opinion on where she should put each one. Her phone buzzed with a new message. 

Kibutsuji Muzan: Do you have any plans this weekend? 

She frowned. He had been messaging her nearly every day with flirty texts. Instead of rejecting him flat out, she ignored the flirty comments and redirected the conversation. Muzan was her boss’s relative and he had been kind enough to volunteer for the STEM fair. She worried if she rejected him he would withdraw. 

Mitsuri: I have to finish the mural before the students come back, so I'll be busy. 

Mitsuri switched over her conversation to Obanai. He was messaged 30 minutes ago saying he was on his way. She would wait another five minutes before calling him. Obanai’s house was maybe 20 minutes away from the school. As she waited, she redid her hair, pulling her thick hair into a low ponytail. She was wearing her olive green overalls with a white crop top. 

The overalls were put in her painting clothes pile after she couldn’t get the paint stains off of them last September. It had actually been Obanai’s birthday. Mitsuri had the ghost of a smile on her face recalling his expression when she gave him the matcha cookies and ceramic snake. It was unguarded, bewildered by her act of kindness. Back then she didn’t know about his anxiety, but looking back it was plain to see. Her phone buzzed. 

Obanai: I’m at the front door. 

Mitsuri: Yay! Coming! 

She tried her best not to run out of the cafeteria and to the main entry. Mitsuri failed as she ran down the hallway. She wore her heart on her sleeve. Opening the door, Obanai was standing there with two iced coffees and a bag of pastries. He was wearing a black and white striped hoodie. 

“I stopped to grab you food since I figured you would get hungry,” Obanai explained from beneath his surgical mask. “And coffee.” He lifted the light brown cup to her. 

“You’re the best, Obanai,” The pinked hair woman beamed as her fingers touched his as he passed her the drink. “Come on, I want to show you what I’ve done.” She turned as he stepped through the door. As she walked down the hallway, she took a sip from the cup. It tasted like a rich, sweet caramel with a full bodied brew. He had asked what her favorite coffee was two days ago. She had not expected him to buy her any. 

“This tastes amazing,” She looked over at him. After seeing his whole face, she loathed the mask. His features were sharp and angular without the mask. She liked seeing his emotions on display and his smile made her weak. A tad shy, but as warm and genuine as her own. “You can take your mask off if you want to. No one is here except for us.”

“Once we get in I will,” he lifted the bag of pastries and his coffee to show he was unable to remove the mask. 

“Oh, right,” Mitsuri looked ahead and pointed to turn to the right towards the cafeteria. Mitsuri showed him a small desk where he could set down his stuff across the room from the mural, unlikely to get paint splatter on it. 

Obanai pulled off his mask, sparing a glance at her as he did so. The scars were less noticeable than they had been when she first saw them and the few times afterward. If only he would let her touch them again and make him see they were nothing compared to the person he was. The thoughtful, reserved, and earnest man she adored. 

He pulled off his hoodie, lifting the bottom of his dark grey t-shirt up to expose his abdomen. She swallowed looking at the defined muscles, the hint of a six pack. Mitsuri would have to take a closer look and touch his abs and chest to verify. She shook her head, banishing the thoughts from her mind. The mural was her main priority, not wondering whether or not Obanai was ripped. He was, obviously, from years of training and weight lifting. 

In his t-shirt his sinewy arms were all full display. They were littered with scars, some of which Mitsuri spotted and recalled their origin. The snake bite from Kaburamaru on his left arm and the jagged scar on his left forearm from his mother pushing him down the stairs. There were other smaller marks that she knew had to be razor blade cuts. He had not admitted to cutting himself. There was one in particular on his right upper arm that made her pause. It was thicker than the others. Obanai had a story behind each scar, but that one bothered her the most. 

“So, I was thinking we could decide the placement of the animals. Three for each season,” She explained as she picked up her stencils. His dual colored eyes followed her as she held the different animals up against the mural. They spent a while figuring out which one would go, rearranging the order several times before they settled on the final. She handed him the tape and he went taping each stencil up to the wall according to her instructions. Obanai then traced the designs of the twelve figures while Mitsuri grabbed the primer for him. She showed him the proper technique for brushing on the primer. 

His nose wrinkled at the scent and put his mask back on, much to her disappointment. He followed her directions, taking the brush in hand. His long fingers adjusted the brush. Blue veins stuck out over the back of his hand and traveled up his arm. She stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, admiring his dexterity and coordination with the brush, and wondering how else he could use his hands. His long fingers made small intentional movements and she felt her face flush. 

Now was not the time to be acting thirsty. As he primed the mural, she corrected the shading between the seasons making them flow seamlessly into the next. They coordinated around each other like they had worked together all their lives. As they worked, she rambled about her siblings' spring break plans, Kanae’s newfound interest in pressing flowers, and Sushi’s latest obsession of chewing on plastic caps and lids. Anything that came to mind she said wanting to fill the space. He commented here and there, but remained focused on his task. 

Once he was done, they had to wait for the primer to dry. He went over to his hoodie and coffee. She joined him a minute later. She checked her phone resting next to the bag of pastries. Another message from Muzan asking if she needed any help with the mural and said he was free. She frowned at the text. 

“Is something wrong?” Obanai asked, tilting his head. 

“No, not really. There’s a volunteer who keeps texting me to see if he can help or see me. I’m trying to be nice and tell him-,” Mitsuri explained before stopping herself. Obanai raised an eyebrow and a shadow passed over his eyes. She shouldn’t have brought up Muzan. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, wanting to veer away from talking about Muzan. Mitsuri looked into the brown pastry bag. There was a croissant and cinnamon roll and she snorted remembering a prior conversation. “Why did you get a croissant and a cinnamon roll?” 

“A while ago you said Senjuro reminded you of a cinnamon roll, but they didn’t have an emoji for it so you used a croissant,” he scratched the back of his head. “I thought you’d get a laugh out of it,” his ears turned pink and he turned his head, shy as ever. She grabbed the croissant out of the bag. 

It was one of the first things she liked about him. Their well matched dark, absurdist humor. “I suppose we should add this to our friendship lore,” She laughed and his eyes found her. 

“I definitely don’t know what that means,” he said. 

“Oh, it’s like how you have certain traditions with friends and the lore explains why those traditions exist. Like fairy tale lore,” Mitsuri said, now realizing how silly it sounded. This time Obanai simply nodded before excusing himself to the restroom. 

She bit into the croissant as she sent Muzan a quick text saying she would be able to finish without help, but appreciated the offer. Finishing off the croissant, she used hand sanitizer to clean her hands before going back to the paint table to debate what colors would work best for the summer raccoon. 

Obanai had to excuse himself for a minute to calm his mind. He shut his eyes and tapped the wall beside him, counting down from five. Dr. Ubuyashiki’s words filtered in and out of his head. The homework was never required and the therapist even gave him an easy option to ask what type of coffee she liked. He asked earlier this week about her coffee order. Iced caramel coffee with milk and three raw sugar packets. Anything sweet fit the bill for her. His order was plain black coffee, no extras. Their orders were the antithesis of each other. 

Even though he met the bare minimum requirement it did not help him. When she mentioned another man who wanted to see her, he felt undeniable jealousy. The ugly tendrils of envy rose from the corners of his mind. If he wasn’t going to act then she had every right to talk to whoever she pleased. Mitsuri was a beautiful, smart, and capable woman. Who wouldn’t be interested in her? He clenched and unclenched his hands and leaned against the wall before staring up at the ceiling. Dr. Ubuyashiki had been right, he was the barrier.

He had to ask her what she wanted. What were the expectations? That made him pause. He held his breath as he realized he was the one deciding the expectations for what should be a mutual decision. He set impossibly high standards that required perfection. Obanai would try his best, but he would never be perfect. It did not exist. He would never be able to tell Mitsuri he loved her, let alone touching or kissing her. 

Obanai ran a hand through his choppy black hair. Look at the facts. Mitsuri accepted him, his scars, and past. Well, everything that he had told her. Eventually, she would know, but for now she liked him for who he was now. At least she had a month ago. Even though he felt unworthy, Mitsuri didn’t or she hadn’t. He turned back and headed back into the cafeteria. 

She stood in front of the table looking at the different paints. The look on her face was focused as she picked up two different colors. Whenever he saw her in her element whether it was painting, dancing, or eating he fell further into the fantasy. Except he didn’t want her to be some unreachable dream. Not anymore. He had let his anxiety and depression rule every facet of his life. They were still there, but they would not control him. 

As he watched her from across the room, he decided to take another chance. If she let him. Sweat was forming under his armpits. His heart rate quickened as he strode over. He took his mask off and put it in his back pocket. He was tired of resisting her. Kyojuro told him he pushed people away. Obanai didn’t want to push Mitsuri away. He wanted to bring her closer and keep her there next to his heart. 

A month ago he realized he loved her and made a promise to tell her when he was a better person. Every day since he tried to be more compassionate, earnest, and thoughtful. Not just to Mitsuri, but his family and friends. He made an effort to see his family more, see Sanemi one on one like they did when they were younger, and sent several messages to Tengen asking after him and his wives. There was no way he was where he wanted to be, but some good grew in him since. 

Now, he stood behind her. He slipped his arms under her to rest his hands on the table. Mitsuri paused, she straightened her back and set the paint bottles back on the table. 

“Obanai?” She asked. Her body stilled. She tried to turn her head to look at him. It’d be easier to speak if she didn’t. 

He set his hands over hers. He leaned his head on the back of her neck. His mouth felt dry. Just ask. You can’t read her mind. 

“Do you still- do you want more? Because I want you and more. If this isn’t mutual then I’ll never bring it up again,” He whispered against her neck just below her ear. Stumbling over the words like an idiot. His stomach was in knots as he waited. The worst she could say was no. 

He tried his best to keep the fear out of his voice. Doubts flowed over him. Maybe she didn’t like him anymore and he lost his chance. He saw goosebumps on her neck as he exhaled the breath he had been holding. 

She turned her head more so they could look at each other. Her pupils were dilated and she was beaming at him. “Yes,” she said without hesitation, “it’s mutual.”

That was all he needed to hear as one hand interlaced their fingers together while the other snaked around her waist and pulled her into his chest. She tilted her head to the side exposing more of her neck to him. The feel of her skin below the crop top was like satin under his fingers. 

Obanai placed his lips on her trailing from her ear to the junction between her left shoulder and neck. Her scent intoxicated him. Vanilla and sakura. He grazed his teeth over her skin. She leaned back, her body beginning to relax. I should have done this on New Years. I’m sorry for taking so long. He wanted to tell her. 

He tightened his hold around her waist. He tried not to focus on the weight of her breasts on his forearm as he pulled her closer. She was so warm and soft. Her olive green overalls and crop top left the skin on her side exposed. It had been taunting him the entire time. When she had been painting next to him, his gaze kept wandering to the pale skin on her sides and the generous curve of her hips. He leaned his face against her neck again. 

“Can I kiss you properly?” He asked. His heart pounded in his chest. If she rejected him, he’d have a hard time seeing her again. Any wedding planning event would be awkward to say the least. He would just tell Sanemi and Kanae he had to work whenever they would have events planned to avoid Mitsuri. 

It’s mutual. The thought calmed him. He loosened his grip when she nodded immediately. It was too good to be true. Mitsuri turned around. Her face was bright red, hiding her freckles. She was smiling from ear to ear and her green eyes sparkled. Her breath was staggered. 

“A hundred times yes,” she was stunning, shining like the sun against him. He was still amazed she liked him enough to let him touch her, hold her, and now kiss her. Three months had been lost because he had been so hesitant. The self doubt and self loathing were still there and he had to continually push down the thoughts. Recovery was not linear and he’d have to fight it the rest of his life.

For now though, Mitsuri watched him with her emerald eyes with long dark lashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. Her two moles under her eyes were more prominent up close. He caressed her cheek as they neared each other. Their noses bumped into each other as he tilted his head. Her hand was at the back of his neck. Her eyes closed and her mouth was slightly open, waiting for him. 

He licked his lips. Obanai had wanted to kiss her for months. There were so many times he could have taken the chance. The first time they went to the gym when she asked about his mask, he wished he had pulled down his mask and kissed her on a weight bench. Another time they were sitting in her Beetle after taking him out for his birthday. She leaned forward and told him he deserved to be celebrated, making him realize how much she cared for him. Then there was the time when he took care of her after she sprained her ankle and he brought over the Sakura mochi. The sounds she made eating them stirred his desire. If she moaned like that now. he would have a hard time stopping himself from taking more than just a taste of her lips. Another time she was sitting on the floor of Kaburamaru’s room while he admired her authenticity and her candy colored hair. 

Then New Years happened. The realization she wanted him despite all that he told her about his anxiety, depression, and his upbringing. He wished he could go back to any of those times and lean into her. Her warmth, kindness, and brilliance. He wanted every part of her. The sunlight casting out the shadow and leaving a dark sunflower in its place. 

His heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. She thought he was worthy of her based on her words and actions. It was enough for now. He leaned forward into the tension, crossing the line he set up months prior. Please let me love you.

When their lips met, her lips were soft against his. It was slow and tender. All he could hear was his blood rushing to his heart. Fear and excitement laced together as he gently slid his hand from her cheek to her neck where his thumb felt her pulse. She pressed into his caress. Her heart might have been beating as quickly as his own. He felt her smile into the kiss and opened his eyes, pausing to see her bright eyes staring back. 

“Sorry, I’m just really happy,” she played with the hair at the back of his neck. Mitsuri leaned her forehead into him. “Really happy,” she repeated. He pushed a loose pink strand of hair behind her ear and ran his hand under her jawline. 

“When are you going to stop apologizing for being yourself?” Obanai asked quietly, his cheeks warmed. He shouldn’t have said that. It sounded rude and aggressive. His thoughts were broken as Mitsuri took his lips again. Her hand at the base of his neck tilted his head back deepening the kiss. One arm wrapped around her back, drawing her into him, removing any space. The plush feel of her breasts was almost too much. He pushed her back into the table. His blood turned to lava hearing her soft moan. How the hell did she spark his desire with such a sound? It wasn’t even lewd. 

His hand went from her back to her hip and squeezed, his fingers digging into her. Mitsuri paused, her breath hitching. If he wasn’t so captivated by her he would have missed it. Did that mean she liked being handled roughly? Fuck. 

He grabbed her thigh, pulling it up as he pushed her back further so she was sitting on the supplies table. Mitsuri wrapped both arms around his shoulders. He could feel a sliver of panic settle as she tightened her hold. Obanai’s body tensed. Normally, he didn’t let women touch him, especially allowing them to constrain him. He bit the inside of his cheek to ground himself. She must have noticed his rigidity and dropped one of her arms to rest on the table. His body relaxed and continued kissing her.

Between the feel of her petal soft lips, the heat of her body, and another soft moan, he knew he never wanted to stop kissing her. Touching her like this, making her moan, and it encouraged him to continue. She had crept into his heart and mind. He was all hers. He kneaded her hip and pushed her back further on the table. Suddenly, Mitsuri squeaked and pulled away from him. 

What had he done? He froze. He hurt her. His insides gnawed at him. He should have known better. Selfish, bloodstained twat. Just a bastard reaching higher than he should. Know your place.

Her eyes were wide before she looked behind her. Obanai removed his hands from her and took a step back. Looking down, he counted the number of tiles in his view to prevent himself dwelling on what just happened. 1,2,3-

“Obanai,” Mitsuri called his name. 4,5,6-

“Obanai,” she repeated. 7,8-

“Oba,” she tried again, louder. He glanced up, lead in his stomach. He shouldn’t have tried to touch the sun. Her hand was covered in blue paint.

“We knocked one of the cans over accidentally,” she pointed to the puddle of wet paint over the table and the one she was currently sitting in.

Oh.

“I’m afraid if I get up I’ll just make more of a mess. Can you grab one of the drop cloths and put it under my feet? And some of the rags for the table?” She asked. He didn’t look her in the eye before complying with her request. She didn’t stop kissing because she wanted to, but his nervous system was already kicking in. Telling him to run. 

He picked up a large plastic sheet and rags. The sheet went under her and he handed her a rag for her hand. She wiped it off, but there was still residue. Obanai walked to the other side and set the rags down to soak up the paint puddle. It was easier to focus on a physical task than his brain telling him to run. The can they knocked over had barely any paint left in it as he corrected it. He took the rags and wrung them out over the commercial sized trash can beside the table. 

 Mitsuri stood up and he couldn't help but see the enormous blue paint splotch on the back of her green overalls. She rotated her body to get a look. Her mouth opened and closed several times and she ran a hand over her face. Now her face had a blue stripe running down her cheek. He laughed as the realization dawned on her that she used her painted hand on her face. 

Her green eyes found his face and grinned. “I like your laugh,” she said in all sincerity, breaking up the tension and self doubt he had.

Even covered in blue paint, Obanai was stunned by her. The glimmer in her gaze highlighted her authenticity. Her laugh chimed like bells to join his raspy one. Loving her was easy. Everything else was hard. Was this the part where he used the touched emoji face?

“Can we try kissing again after I get cleaned up? I’m sort of a mess,” Mitsuri asked. Below the blue paint she was blushing. 

He walked back to stand in front of her. Obanai shook his head, denying her request. “You are beautiful like this,” Obanai murmured, bringing his face closer to her. Her green eyes were misty. Lifting his hand up, he caressed her painted cheek before running his hand under her chin coaxing her towards him. They kissed. Her painted hand touched his cheek, staining his scars as blue as her cheek. Mitsuri might be the only sweet he ever tasted and loved. 

Chapter Text

Late March - Mid April 

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The night air was cold against her skin. The little hairs on the back of her neck rose. She had gone without her white haori in favor of her pink floral kimono, which she now regretted. Mitsuri had her legs dangling over the edge of the restaurant’s patio as she stared up at the moon. There were a few other customers sipping sake on Mitsuri’s side. Beside her was a plate of tsukimi dango half eaten and on the other side of it was Iguro. 

Last week, she invited him to go out with her for the Tsukimi festival. Kaburamaru was wrapped around his neck. Red eyes glinted under the black and white haori. In the past few months they have exchanged letters. He ended each letter with a haiku about something he saw or whatever he had on his mind. Some reflected his humor and others his thoughtful nature. Her feelings for him grew with each beautifully written letter. She did not even realize she was falling for him. At first, it was the anticipation in waiting for his letters. Now her heart thudded every time she saw him. When he smiled at her, her knees wanted to give out. His eyes would close slowly and stayed closed for a few seconds. It left her weak every time.  

When they went to restaurants with the rest of the Hashira, Iguro waited for her to finish her food while everyone else left. It was odd at first. He never ate anything, but he would take tiny sips of green tea when she looked away. The only way she knew he was drinking was because the waiter would ask if he needed a refill. Now, she considered it normal. 

Iguro patiently waited for her to eat her eight bowls of food. He never acted like she bothered him. His eyes looked at her almost affectionately as she told him about her past and dreams of the future. Though she could have been projecting her own affection on him. 

“I remember going to a festival like this in my hometown with my parents and siblings every year,” Mitsuri said. “My sister always tried to eat more dango than me. She never won.” She laughed and glanced over at her friend. His gentle eyes were on her. Many people found him unsettling with his gold and teal eyes. The gold one reminded her of the moon and the teal of the ocean. They were beautiful, especially when they were calm.

“Does your family have any traditions?” Mitsuri asked. He stiffened, a shadow passed over his features. His nostrils flared. The bandages shifted over his mouth as he opened his mouth to speak before he shook his head. 

“No, my family is gone,” he said stiffly. He looked up at the moon. His eyes shone in the moonlight. Mitsuri gasped and dropped the dango she had just picked up. It rolled off the wood patio and hit the ground below her feet. “You do not have to apologize, they were terrible, cruel people. They were the ones that gave me these scars.” He pointed to his cheeks.

Iguro had mentioned his bandages covered facial scars, but he never expanded upon it. He was a quiet person and Mitsuri did not want to pester him. If he wanted to share his past, he would. She had assumed he got them from a demon. He had been part of the Corps for over five years.

“I-I did not realize you had-” Mitsuri had no idea what to say. Her entire life she had been surrounded by her loving family. Her parents never shamed her for losing two engagements. They loved her and she loved them. If she had not joined the Corps then she would still be living with them and her siblings. She could not imagine how Iguro’s family could have cut his face no matter what he had done. What else had they done to him? 

“You don’t have to say anything. It happened years ago. How is the dango?” Iguro changed the topic. She wanted him to tell her more, but obviously he didn’t want to discuss his past. His eyes met hers again. Calm and relaxed. They really were beautiful and she felt her face heat up as she admired him. 

“It’s really good. You should try one,” Mitsuri offered him one of the moon shaped rice balls. Surprisingly, he took it, their hands brushing. He pulled down one of the bandages, exposing his mouth enough to allow him to eat. Mystified, she watched as he took a small bite of the dango before his eyes narrowed and set the dango down on a plate. 

“Too sweet,” he commented and went to cover up his mouth with the white wraps. She reached over and grabbed his hand, stopping him. 

“Sorry-” she brought her hand back to her chest. Why had she done that? “You don’t have to cover your face around me. You are my friend and I want you to be comfortable around me,” She gave him a reassuring smile.

“They’re disgusting. You would lose your appetite looking at them,” Iguro started to pull the bandage up again, covering his mouth.

“I do not think that is possible,” she laughed as she grabbed another dango. “I have never lost my appetite. There was one time I ate seven bowls of tonkatsu after slaying a slime demon. Now that was gross.”

He let out a sigh, “Maybe another time. There are too many other people around.” He pointed at the other customers sitting on the patio several feet away. The only light source was the moonlight and two candles on either end of the restaurant. They would not be able to see his scars in the dim light. She nodded, accepting he was not comfortable enough to show his entire face to her. She bit into the dango she was holding and looked back at the moon. 

“Thank you for spending tonight with me,” she said as she shifted in her seat. “I’ve never spent this night alone and without any family, so it means a lot that you came with me.” 

“Rengoku or Kocho would have come if you asked,” he replied. A breeze swept over the patio. Mitsuri shivered again. It was getting colder. 

“But I asked you,” Mitsuri whispered. She kept her eyes on the moon and waited for him to respond. Her heart fluttered and her palms were sweaty. Maybe he didn’t hear her. Then she felt something cover her shoulders. She looked at her shoulder to see the black and white striped haori Iguro always wore. It was still warm. Her lip trembled as she looked up to see Iguro standing above her. 

“You need it more than me,” he said looking down at her, his eyes closing slowly. It was his way of smiling. He poked her forehead, which broke the tension and she laughed. “Remember your haori next time, Ms. Kanroji.” 

“I will, Iguro-san,” she beamed at him and he returned to his spot. Kaburamaru, who coiled around his neck, flicked out his tongue twice in agreement. Mitsuri threaded her arms through the sleeves and noticed his scent on it. Pine trees and fresh linen. If only she could keep it forever. With Iguro, Mitsuri was safe and secure. He always made sure she had enough to eat, spoke kind words, and encouraged her to keep fighting. He was her lighthouse in a cruel, demon filled world. 

I want to tell him what he means to me. Her vision flashed back to her two failed engagements. The shame, denial, and guilt from both of them. The first failure she stood on the bridge as her fiancé told her only a boar, bear, or wild beast would marry her. The second engagement she ended after realizing she could not be the woman he wanted and never would be. If they married, she would have sacrificed her happiness. She knew she failed her family. It was a daughter’s duty to leave the house with the promise of a good marriage. Instead, she joined the Corps to find a husband. Someone strong, kind, compassionate, and ultimately accepted her as the pink haired woman with a large appetite and the strength to match sumo wrestlers. 

Her stomach flipped thinking about Obanai rejecting her. She would not be able to look at him again. There was no need to dwell on what could be. Mitsuri needed to be present in the moment with Obanai. 

“Growing up my father would pretend to pinch the moon from the sky and give it to me or one of the siblings,” Her green eyes shifted back to the moon. “It was silly, but I really loved it.” 

“It isn’t silly,” he reassured her. “Don’t diminish yourself because you are worried about how it will be perceived by me or others.” 

Beside her, she saw Iguro reach out his hand and pinch the moon between his index finger and thumb. He brought his hand back and rotated his wrist to present her with a tsukimi dango as if it were the moon. Mitsuri could not help but smile as she took the dango from his palm. “You deserve the moon,” he said before looking straight ahead, his ears turning pink.

She was speechless, her heart skipped a beat. Mitsuri used the striped sleeve to cover up her reddening face. If it was possible, she was falling harder for him.

I wish you were mine.  

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Another dream set in her fantasy world. The longing she felt in the dream simmered under her skin. She was romanticizing Obanai. Dreams were supposed to be the subconscious making her inner thoughts known. Except she already knew she wanted Obanai. Her subconscious needed to speed up the revelations. She pushed herself up in bed and rested against the headboard. Sushi moved from the pillow to lie down in her lap, purring loudly. She was supposed to go jogging this morning, but her mind was replaying the last few days. 

Goosebumps ran up her arms thinking about the kiss Obanai and her shared three days ago. When he stood behind her, her mind went completely blank. His arms against her sides before slipping his hands over hers. Obanai had been hesitant asking her if she wanted him. I want you, he whispered into her ear, and more. It sent tingles down her spine. 

Then his lips were soft against her neck and his arm over her waist, pulling her into him. His teeth raked lightly over her skin. Mitsuri ran her hand over the place he had held her. His fingers trailed over her bare skin below the crop top sending electricity up and down her sides. The feel of being pressed against his firm chest made her blood rush. Then he actually kissed her. 

When their lips touched she nearly melted into him. She had waited so long and he did not disappoint. It was unexpected and near perfect. Heat swept over her cheeks. One of Obanai’s first messages was that he was full of surprises. He definitely surprised her on Thursday, so much so she couldn’t stop herself from smiling into the first kiss. 

When are you going to stop apologizing for being yourself? He had no idea how much that meant. In previous relationships, she stifled herself in order to accommodate her partners. With Obanai? She never had to. He got her. She never had to apologize for being herself around him. There were so many times he told her something similar during their friendship. He accepted her wholeheartedly. Her weird quirks, ditzy personality, and messy self. Everything.

Her face reddened as she remembered his hand squeezing her hip and then her thigh. At the beginning he had been so sweet, but when he pushed her onto the table his dominant side came out. She liked the way he took control. Normally, he was reserved and quiet. She knew he could be demanding and austere, his job required him to be. 

If the can of paint had not spilled, Mitsuri was curious how far they would have gone. It had been over a year since she’s had sex. She had toys in her nightstand, but they were nothing compared to a partner. The connection and intimacy between them was unlike anything she had ever experienced. 

You are beautiful like this. He told her when her clothes were covered in blue paint and she was stupid enough to touch her face, leaving a light blue stripe down her cheek. Everyone said she was cute, not beautiful. Obanai called her beautiful in paint stained overalls and face. There were no words for the way he made her feel in that moment. The sensation of warmth, wonder, and light filled her as he slipped further into her heart and mind. There was no one else who made her feel seen like he did. 

After she and Obanai kissed she had a difficult time staying focused on the mural. It was hard to stop, anytime they paused she waited a second before leaning in again. These were more affectionate than heated. He had to remind her of the mural. As they worked, she kept glancing over at Obanai. He caught her looking every time and he simply smiled. That was all it took for her to feel her insides melt. She loved his smile. 

When she got home that night she took Sushi and spun him around the kitchen as she danced to the music in her head. Once she let him down he had a hard time walking straight and probably hated her. She gave him wet food for dinner to make up for her brash behavior. Mitsuri completed the mural last night without any more assistance. 

Today she was going over to Sanemi and Kanae’s to help them pick out music for their DJ. Obanai would come after the lunch shift. She let out a content sigh and glanced over to her phone. Obanai had to work the last two nights, so they had not been able to see each other. 

Would it be too forward to have him come over after Kanae and Sanemi’s? Or would he think she was asking for a booty call? She wanted to ask him what he meant when he said ‘more’. It was unclear. With how much she liked Obanai, she did not want to presume to know what ‘more’ was. 

According to Sanemi, he never had a partner or none he publicly acknowledged. Obanai said he didn’t have a preference for gender, but didn’t put a label on his sexuality. Her insides squirmed as she recalled the blond woman outside of the Dojo blatantly flirting with Obanai. It ate at her insides when she saw them. The woman looked like a model, tall, platinum blond hair with a killer body. He said they had a one night stand, nothing else. No lingering feelings since he had rejected the woman when she asked if he wanted another. 

At the time, the woman’s appearance made her self conscious about her own. Mitsuri was wider and curvier. Even now her stomach rolled thinking about how Kyo pointed out every single one of her flaws. Sometimes she could still hear him berating her and pinching her stomach, thighs, and arms. He wanted someone who was stick thin and normal. He called her large, masculine, chunky- Kyo was not part of her life anymore. She reminded herself she was fit, strong, and beautiful just as she was. 

Whatever Obanai and she had was more than physical. There had been a connection between them since they first met. That red string tied them together when she first laid eyes on him in August. She had only known him for eight months, yet… she felt as if they had known each other for years. The easy push and pull they had around each other from the start. Mitsuri grabbed her phone off the nightstand and unlocked the screen to send a morning message to Obanai. 

Mitsuri: Good morning! I hope you’re sleeping well ☺️ I can’t wait to see you later

Around 1 P.M., she was standing outside Sanemi and Kanae’s house. This would Mitsuri's first time seeing Obanai since they kissed. A buzz hovered over her mind thinking about him. Excitement and nervous energy. She put on a pair of heather grey leggings with a large purple knit sweater dress in an effort to look casual. From their first messages, Obanai’s favorite color was purple and she tried to convince herself she was not dressing up for him. It failed. Hopefully, Kanae wouldn’t notice the extra effort Mitsuri took in putting on grey eyeliner and mascara. 

Mitsuri had not told Kanae or anyone else about the kiss. It was her and Obanai’s secret. Both agreed to keep it private and act as they did before around others. Not that she didn’t want others to know, but for right now she wanted to keep whatever they had to themselves. They needed to figure out what they were. It was a small ember in the dark. Mitsuri was worried any inference would squash it out. He'd taken three months to kiss her. If other people knew before he was ready, he might pull away. Now that she tasted him she would be damned before she let him go. 

Mitsuri opened the door to see Kanae setting up her laptop in front of the television while Sanemi was adjusting the speakers. Wordlessly, Kanae handed him the HDMI cable for her computer to be linked to the television. In a moment of affection, Mitsuri watched as Sanemi grasped the cable and her hand before pulling Kanae down for a kiss. They didn’t notice Mitsuri come in because when Kanae stood back up she jumped, startled by the pink haired woman’s appearance. 

“Hey! I’m so glad you were able to make it,” Kanae said hurriedly and walked over to hug her maid of honor. She returned the hug. 

“I wouldn’t miss it! You know how much I love music,” Mitsuri set her purse and keys down on the entryway table. Sanemi looked over and waved at her from where he crouched as he plugged the cable into the television. Kanae’s Spotify popped up on the screen. There was already a list of potential songs. Kanae was organized as always. 

Mitsuri took a seat on the couch as she and the couple reviewed what Kanae had gathered. Kanae preferred acoustic, folk, and pop music while Sanemi preferred alternative metal and grunge. Artists ranged from Ed Sheeran, Joshua Radin, the Used, Smashing Pumpkins, and Metallica. Mitsuri had to point out the older crowd would probably leave early if there were too many heavy metal songs in the lineup. Sanemi begrudgingly agreed as he thought of his relatives. 

Eventually, they listened to all of Kanae’s choices and picked fifteen songs out. They also added traditional wedding reception music despite Sanemi’s protests. Realistically, the couple would spend more time going around the reception hall greeting guests than dancing, so Kanae decided they would cater a portion of the music to the guests. 

“I’m going to go grab drinks from downstairs. Do either of you want anything?” Sanemi pointed at the two women. 

“Seltzer please,” Kanae answered from her spot in front of the laptop. 

“I’ll take one too,” Mitsuri added as she stood up to stretch her legs. Sanemi nodded and walked to the stairs. She raised her arms above her head and rolled her shoulders. 

“I've been meaning to ask. Did you have anyone you wanted to bring as your plus one?” Kanae asked, tilting her head. 

“Not really,” she answered as she shook her head. Obanai was already coming to the wedding, so there was no need for her plus one. Kanae frowned. 

“Have you given any more thought to dating or are you-” she glanced towards the direction of the basement. “Still pining over Obanai?” the woman lowered her voice to a whisper. Mitsuri tried not to smile when she heard his name. 

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it,” Mitsuri knew if Kanae asked any more questions, she would tell her accidentally. Secrets were hard for her to keep. She wore her heart on her sleeve and any emotion she had showed up on her face. “Have you picked out a first dance song yet?” She asked abruptly, changing the subject. Kanae raised one brow as she examined the teacher’s face, but let the conversation slide. 

“We have a few we’re interested in. I’ll Follow You into the Dark, Today, or Conversations in the Dark. When we meet with the dance choreographer we’ll decide for sure,” Kanae responded. 

“I didn’t realize you were hiring a choreographer,” Mitsuri commented. 

“I want it to be perfect, so we’re going to one in a few weeks. You’re more than welcome to join if you want and give any pointers. I’m not the most coordinated,” Kanae shrugged. 

“I don’t believe that for a minute. You were amazing on the dance floor in college,” Mitsuri grinned at the memory of going out with Kanae and their sorority sisters. 

“Club dancing is not the equivalent of a first dance. I was buzzed the entire time and not at all self conscious about how I danced,” Kanae explained. She was looking through her music list again. 

“You just have to let loose and have fun with it,” Mitsuri smiled at the taller woman. “Let’s see what you got.” Mitsuri stepped up to the computer and clicked on the next song in the playlist. Kanae froze as another song started playing on the speakers. 

Mitsuri grabbed Kanae and spun her around the living room. Kanae was stiff at first as her body became attuned to the rhythm. Mitsuri took a step forward while Kanae stepped back in time with each other. As Kanae grew more confident in her steps, Mitsuri released her. She brought her arms up and waved them side to side as she stepped away from her friend for more space. Her hips swayed to the music, lost to the beat and sound of the man’s singing voice. 

Tengen: Babe, I’m asking again. Do you want to come on the hot springs trip?

Tengen: Babe?

Obanai: No. 

Tengen: Mitsuri is joining us. Does that change your mind?

Obanai: No.

Tengen: Come on, she’s gonna be the seventh wheel if you don’t come. 

Tengen: This could be your chance, Babe. She’s not going to be single forever.

Obanai: Babe, I’m not interested.

Tengen: You called me babe 🥲

Obanai: Don’t get used to it

Tengen: I’ll take crumbs 😘

Obanai: Why are you like this?

Tengen: I’m just giving you a chance to practice your rizz on me before Mitsuri

Obanai: Rizz?

Tengen: Charisma, charm, flirting

Obanai: No, thank you.

Tengen: Your loss xoxo 

Obanai put his phone aside and laid his head down on the desk. He had five more minutes on his break before he had to return to the kitchen. Tengen was like a dog that would not let go of a bone. Any time he saw the giant, Tengen bought up Mitsuri. Though he had not disrespected her, so he didn’t have to tie up Tengen and drown him in a lake. He insisted Obanai come on the trip originally, but he was even more persistent since Mitsuri agreed to go. Now, if she asked him to go, he might consider it. 

After work, Obanai made a quick detour home to shower and change out his oil stained clothes before going to his best friend’s house. He put on a black shirt with a white horizontal stripe over the chest and black joggers. The sleeves were long enough to cover his hands. 

He and Mitsuri agreed to stay mum about them. If others knew, especially the engaged couple, it could make matters more complicated. Obanai needed for this to stay as simple as possible while he was adapting. There would be added pressure and expectations if their friends and family knew. 

He had never been in a relationship. No one had piqued his interest in the slightest to where he wanted to be with someone. Casual or otherwise. There was no appeal. He never felt the innate need or desire for sex that others had. Everyone he slept with had been an opportunity to explore his sexuality. Granted he had never gotten close enough to someone for a relationship to occur. 

Before Obanai met Mitsuri he almost considered himself an ace. Now he had no idea where his sexuality fell. Not that he particularly cared for labels. When he was with Mitsuri, he wanted to learn every last detail about her life. The way she organized her kitchen, the origami animals on her tv stand, and her earliest memory. To hold her close and tell her he adored her. He wanted to romance and show her how much she meant to him. She was the first and only person he ever desired mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

Whenever he heard Mitsuri moan he imagined what exactly he could do to make her moan for him. He was not used to this level of desire. When he grabbed her hips and thighs she made the sweetest noises. They turned him on. He wanted to see her lose herself under him. 

He could not get ahead of himself. It would be awhile if they ever made it to that stage. He was already waiting for the other shoe to drop thanks to his anxiety. The look in her eyes after they kissed helped to dampen the anxious thoughts. She had been as eager as him to continue kissing after the paint incident. Obanai wished to live in the crystal fantasy for a day longer if he could. Couldn’t he be happy for one second before reality crashed around him and Mitsuri? 

There was still more he had to tell her about his past. It was not fair to keep her in the dark. Not if he wanted to be with her. She deserved to know everything. He told her he hated keeping her an arm’s length away. In time he would tell her about the fire, the deaths, the self harm, and the suicide attempts. He could not just dump all of it at her feet. Dr. Ubuyashiki’s words rang in his ears saying to tell her a little bit at a time. She had accepted everything so far, which gave him a shiver of hope. 

Mitsuri: I’ll be waiting for you 🐢

He smiled reading the last message. Her words soothed the doubts that whispered in his head. The same whispers that had told him Mitsuri would never be interested in him. They were wrong and he trusted Mitsuri. She said what she meant, if she didn’t want him, she would tell him. He had to learn how to manage the whispers of doubt. 

His insides were haphazardly put together at the moment. A mixture of nerves and wonder. Yet, another emotion seemed to prevail over the rest, a sense of hope for the future. Optimism was rare for Obanai and he had a difficult time understanding what the feeling was at first. The lightness in his chest whenever he thought of Mitsuri and what they could be. 

When he finally got to Sanemi’s house he parked behind Mitsuri’s lime green Beetle. He sat in his car. It was his first time seeing Mitsuri since Thursday. All he wanted to do was run up the stairs and pull her into his embrace. He was disciplined and knew better than to act on impulse. “Rein it in,” he grumbled to himself before exhaling deeply and stepping out of his car. He walked up the steps. 

Obanai opened the front door and saw Mitsuri dancing in the middle of the living room with Kanae. His gold and teal eyes were drawn to her instantly. Her dark leggings hugged her thighs and calves while her purple dress hinted at the curves beneath. The gentle movement of her arms as she swayed to the music. He swallowed at the sight. I need to go see a doctor. This level of attraction is unnatural. 

Before her, Obanai experienced little to no attraction for anyone. With Mitsuri he was instantly attracted to her beauty even before getting to know her. Mitsuri was the only woman he truly thought was beautiful, inside and out. Objectively, he knew several of the people he slept with were attractive, but there was no true attraction until Mitsuri. 

“Sanemi went downstairs to grab some drinks from the bar, but he’s been down there a while,” Kanae broke his concentration on the woman of his dreams as he looked over at the future bride. He nodded at her and could feel Mitsuri watching him. He glanced over and she was trying not to grin, which she failed to do. 

“I’ll go down,” Obanai said. “Hey Mitsuri,” he added and her whole face lit up as he acknowledged her. She shifted her feet in place. A light sheen of sweat on her face from dancing. 

“Good morning, Obanai!” She replied loudly. It was 3 in the afternoon. Her face turned pink realizing her mistake. “Afternoon,” she corrected herself. 

She was adorable when she was flustered. If he had any courage, he would kiss her forehead before going to the basement. He smiled at her with his eyes before turning to go downstairs. 

He found Sanemi organizing the drinks in the refrigerator. Several towels were on the shelves and the floor. Obanai leaned over the bar’s counter to watch the white haired man putting the cans into two separate rows beside a mountain of towels. “Kanae said you were getting drinks,” Obanai tilted his head. 

Sanemi cocked his head up and frowned. “One of the cans exploded, so I had to clean it up.” He pointed at the two rows of drinks. “These also got drenched and need to be wiped off before they get sticky. Fucking bullshit,” Sanemi grumbled. 

“You start cleaning the cans and I'll take care of the fridge. It’ll be quicker,” Obanai walked around the counter, unbothered by his friend’s rude behavior. “Do you have any vinegar? It stops it from getting sticky.” Sanemi pointed at the cabinet under the sink. Obanai grabbed the small bottle of vinegar and crouched next to Sanemi who started moving the cans onto the counter next to the bar sink. Obanai took towels and started drying off the shelves, the plastic fogging over as he did so. He handed a few towels to Sanemi to wet them down. He poured a small amount of the acid onto the wet cloths and cleaned the shelves, removing any sticky residue. 

“You need to give me a list of kitchen secrets,” Sanemi said as he ran the last can under the sink. 

“I could, but you’d just lose it,” Obanai shrugged and looked up at him before standing up and closing the fridge door. The taller man was not known for his organizational skills. In high school, he lost many of his assignments due to his disorganization. It was a wonder how he did so well as an engineer. Sanemi glowered, “Dick.” 

“Shithead,” Obanai spat back, grinning behind the mask, before seeing Sanemi grin and laugh lightly. Music could be heard up above along with thuds and Sanemi’s eyes narrowed. “They’re dancing up there,” Obanai offered as explanation. 

“At least they’re having fun,” Sanemi frowned at the pile of dirty towels and then looked over at Obanai. “Are you sure you don’t want to go on the hot springs trip? I’m making our reservation tomorrow. Tengen already got a set of rooms for him and the wives.”

“Tengen asked earlier and it’s still a no. Not with all the scars I have,” he waved a hand over his face. 

“Have you seen mine?” Sanemi pushed his bangs up. There was a jagged silver mark along his hairline and coming down the right side of his forehead to his temple. His father in a fit of rage threw a beer bottle at the wall in an attempt to scare Sanemi. The shards hit Sanemi's forehead. The scar was easily hidden with bangs and framing. 

“You’re right,” Obanai scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Mine look so much better than yours. No one will notice mine when they see you beside me.” He pulled the mask down for Sanemi. His best friend grimaced for a faction of a second seeing the crude, demonic smile etched into Obanai’s cheeks. “Now, tell me with a straight face that I can go into a hot spring without everyone making the same face you just made or asking what happened.” He brought the mask up again. He hated the questions. 

“They’re not that bad,” Sanemi tried again. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Obanai snapped. With Mitsuri, he still had a hard time not wearing the mask. When they were painting the mural, he wore the mask to reduce the paint smell and a small part of him wasn’t used to having his face exposed for long periods of time with someone outside of his family. 

Sanemi held up his hands, “I’m not going to push it, but you’re more than welcome if you change your mind. Mitsuri is coming too,” he added. Tengen and him both tried to use her to get him to come on the trip. He sighed, “Why are you and Tengen so insistent? And using Mitsuri to try to persuade me?”

“You haven’t taken a vacation in forever. You’re about to take on more responsibilities at work, which will make you more stressed. I just want you to take a break before then. Before you get strung out and snap,” Sanemi admitted, scratching under his chin.

His purple eyes shifted. It was unlike Sanemi to express concern. He had a tendency to stifle any emotion that resembled empathy. A residual effect of an abusive parent, which he knew all too well. If Sanemi mentioned it, he was sincerely  concerned for the shorter man. 

“Whether you’re into Mitsuri or not is none of my business or anyone else’s. That’s between you two,” Sanemi said quickly, not meeting Obanai’s gaze. “Or if you’re not into anything, that’s cool too,” he coughed. A rare show of sensitivity from the engineer. 

From their teenage years, they expressed most of their feelings through reckless, juvenile behaviors. Trespassing, smoking weed and driving, picking locks to get into abandoned buildings, or breaking glass bottles in said buildings. To society, it was more acceptable to act out in anger than discuss issues. 

“I’ll think about it,” Obanai said, acknowledging Sanemi’s concern. Sanemi projected an arrogant, self assured persona to everyone, but he was sensitive and well meaning underneath.

“As for Mitsuri, Tengen is just a fuck wad,” the concern he showed was replaced with a cocky grin. 

“You have that right,” Obanai scoffed. 

“How was work?” Sanemi grabbed two seltzers and a beer off the counter. “Wait, did you want anything?” Sanemi gestured to the alcohol, but Obanai shook his head. He needed to have a clear mind with Mitsuri around. 

“Same as always,” he paused. “The new hire is showing some promise of not being a complete idiot like I thought he would be.” 

By promise, he meant the new hire would make mistakes but learned quickly to fix them and adjust to the kitchen’s needs. Obanai had also been less critical of him than previous trainees by giving him gentle encouragement and empathizing when he made errors. His coworkers noted the change. Chef Urokodaki had a gentler method for teaching his staff and they assumed Obanai was copying the old chef in preparation for his promotion. 

“That’s good?” Sanemi went towards the stairs to go back up to Kanae and Mitsuri. “The intern at my office was a nepotism hire. She keeps showing up late and when she does she takes selfies at her desk. Last week I asked her to merge and export test results to an Excel file. I even showed her how to do it. An hour later I found her trying to manually enter over 2,000 results because she ‘forgot’ how to export files.” 

“Wow, that’s something,” Obanai followed his friend up the stairs, holding onto the rail for support. Mitsuri was showing Kanae how to gyrate her hips fluidly. Obanai should have excused himself from this particular wedding event as his eyes drifted to Mitsuri’s hips and thighs moving in time with the pop music. 

“I had to clean up a mess downstairs,” Sanemi said as he placed the drinks on the coffee table that had been shoved against the wall to make room for the women to dance. Kanae stopped dancing and walked up to her fiancé before kissing his cheek. 

“Thanks, Nemi,” The black haired woman reached across him for the two seltzers before turning back to Mitsuri. She handed her the drink and Mitsuri took a sip. Obanai walked over to her and her green eyes sparkled, holding the can to her lips to hide her smile. He stood beside her, careful not to get too close. With just one look, Mitsuri made his day better. 

“So, what’s left to do?” he asked, bringing his hands together in front of him. Kanae started talking about the current line up and the need for more classic rock songs. He rubbed his thumb against his pointer finger as he started listing off Queen, AC/DC, Goo Goo Dolls, and Bright Eyes. He forced himself to look Kanae in the eyes when he spoke. Even though he had known her for years, he was still uncomfortable speaking more than ten words at a time to her. Sanemi was marrying her and she was Mitsuri’s best friend, so he should make more of an effort with Kanae even if he had to fidget with his hand and pant seams to do it. Kanae did not raise her eyebrows at the difference, but seemed receptive to his suggestions. 

Around 6 P.M. the group ordered pizza and the three without a mask ate while Obanai sat on the couch watching them. He inquired about Genya and Sanemi’s family. They were all doing well. Genya would be coming back at the beginning of August and stay the entire month before returning to college. Mitsuri was next to him and he found himself staring at her several times and had to force himself to look away. 

Obanai never disclosed his feelings to Sanemi, but it was not hard to make the leap. Obanai and Sanemi’s friendship was built on their honesty, support, and values. They did not need to speak for long stretches of time because they knew inherently they had each other’s back after fourteen years of friendship. One built on loathing a high school classmate named Giyuu Tomioka. Obanai wondered what had happened to the elitist jerk, but gave it no more thought when Mitsuri started talking about the STEM fair. Kanae was going to talk about botany and bring in some exotic flowers from the university’s greenhouse to show the students. 

After three hours, the engaged couple had a playlist of 53 songs they could use for the wedding reception. Kanae and Sanemi would revise the list with the DJ when they were closer to the wedding date. 

“School starts again tomorrow, so I have to go home,” Mitsuri yawned, covering her mouth with a purple sleeve before stretching overhead. 

“Thanks for the impromptu dance lesson,” Kanae beamed at her. She walked Mitsuri to the door.

“I should leave too,” Obanai said to Sanemi. He grunted, standing next to Kanae by the entry, his arm wrapped around her waist. “Thank you for all of the suggestions, Obanai,” the long haired woman said as a goodbye. He waved before sliding out the front door with Mitsuri. 

Finally, they were alone again at the place where they first met. It was the first time Obanai ever thought a woman was truly beautiful with her lime green eyes and heart shaped face. The gods favored her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. 

Now when she turned her head she smiled at him. No. Her smile was for him. He lost his breath as his lungs were being squeezed. He did not deserve her- No, that is not true. He disrupted the pessimistic thought. She believed he was worthy and it was enough until he was a better person. He walked one step behind her down the stairs.

“Oba,” she began as they approached their cars. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but-” She shut her eyes tightly. “Would you like to come over for a little bit?” Her pitch was slightly louder. He nodded awkwardly before he realized her eyes were still shut. Idiot. 

“Yes,” he answered. “If that’s what you wish.” She opened one eye at a time, taking in his masked face. 

“I do,” she replied quickly and took out her keys. “I’ll see you in a few.” 

Mitsuri lost Obanai’s Jeep at a stoplight. She also might have pushed the gas pedal on a yellow light almost red light to get ahead of him. She opened her front door in a hurry and threw her keys and purse on the hooks by the front. What was she doing? She wanted to be alone with him. Captain Sushi ran into view and rubbed himself against her legs as she made her way to the kitchen, nearly tripping over the kitten. She grabbed his food bowl and dumped a can of wet food in before carrying it to her bedroom and shut him in there. He could be a terror and distract them. 

There was a knock on her door, which made her jump. Get it together, Mitsuri. She scolded herself. Slapping her cheeks, she went to the entryway and opened the door. It was reminiscent of the time he came over to tell her about his bio father. His two colored eyes pinned her to where she stood with his arms at his side. She licked her lips and let him in. 

“So,” she said and did not know where else to go. 

“So,” he copied her. This was painfully awkward as they stared at one another. Neither of them knew how to start a conversation. She touched her lips and grabbed Obanai’s hand, pulling him into her living room. She sat down and brought him with her. 

“Can I take off your mask?” She asked and he nodded. She turned to face him, tucking one leg under her. Unhooking the elastic bands, she glanced at his facial scars before meeting his gaze. Steady and soft. “I like seeing your face,” she swallowed and had to look away. She set the black surgical mask on the coffee table. 

“The mural looks great. I know I sent you a picture, but I’m really proud of it,” her cheeks flushed trying to make conversation. “I hope the kids and teachers like it. Amane said it looked good, but she was also the one to approve of it, so she has to like it, you know?” 

“They will, Mitsuri,” he affirmed. She felt him put a finger under her chin and had her turn to look at him. There were bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping properly. She pursed her lips thinking about what else to say. 

“What do you actually want to talk about?” His voice was deeper. His heterochromic eyes studied her face. Obanai knew her well enough to know she was stalling the conversation. He made her feel valued just with a single look. Though he was quiet, he was observant and took note of her rambling as a form of nervousness. She decided to bite the bullet. 

“This,” she gestured between the two of them. She had no idea where she was going, but kept running. “Us. I really like you. When you kissed me, I was ridiculously happy. Like I need to scream into a pillow type of happiness. After I got home I danced around the kitchen with Sushi for so long he lost his balance when I set him down. You said you wanted me and more. We’ve said more several times like we know what it is. I’m not a mind reader, so what is ‘more’ to you?”

As she spoke, his eyes widened slightly. Hopefully, she was not scaring him off with this conversation, but she had to know. She bit her lip and kept her eyes level with his. Don’t say you can’t. He lowered his hand from her chin and she held her breath at the loss of physical contact. 

“I have a hard time talking about what I want,” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Because I don’t…I don’t have many wants or at least I never allowed myself to want anything,” He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Obanai ran his hands over his face and stared at the floor. 

“What do you mean?” She asked. His shoulders tensed and she could see the cords in his neck.

“I thought I would be gone by now,” his gaze remained on the floor. He grimaced, “I never let myself want anything or at least nothing substantial.” 

“When you say gone, you mean dead, don’t you?” She winced when he nodded somberly, eyes studying the wood grain. With his depression and childhood trauma, Mitsuri suspected some of his scars were self-inflicted based on the length and size of them. It did not take much of a leap to guess he had tried to go a step further. Especially based on the puckered large scar on his right deltoid extending to his bicep. She scooted forward so her knees were touching his thigh. His head turned to look at the spot they touched before traveling up her body to her face. 

“I had a friend in high school who hurt herself. She cut her thighs with razor blades. One day I noticed the scabs here and here,” she pointed to her upper, inner thigh and then her outer thigh. “She asked me not to tell anyone and I said I wouldn’t if she stopped. She was a perfectionist and anytime she perceived a failure she cut is what she said. For two months, she was stopped. The cuts closed and scarred. After a bad test score she started again. I told her mom. Her parents pulled her out of school to get her help and I never saw her again. Anytime I tried calling she declined and never responded to my texts,” she paused, laying her hands down in her lap centimeters from his thigh. “Some of your scars look like the ones she had,” she admitted, shifting in her seat. 

“You knew?” Obanai asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I guessed,” she picked at her fingernails. “That’s why your scars don’t bother me. At least not their appearance,” Mitsuri shifted her eyes to his cheeks briefly. “But the reason behind them does. Do you still hurt yourself or…?” Her voice faltered. The scars on his arms were older, but he could still be cutting other places.

“Not in the past eight months or so. Sometimes I still get the urge, but I am better at coping with the impulses and knowing what sets them off,” Obanai explained. 

“What sets them off?” Mitsuri asked. He looked around the room before coming back, focusing on her face.

“Memories. I’m trying something new in therapy. It’s supposed to help process and reorganize them and the feelings associated with them. It seems to be working. When I think back to-” He stalled. “My family, I don’t have a strong impulse to hurt myself like I did before. When I am overwhelmed with anxiety or losing my sense of control, I’m tempted to because…Cutting let me externalize the emotions and distract from what was really going on in my mind.” He brought his hand to his lips in thought. “I never really lose the thoughts because they’re there to stay, but I’m not letting the demons get the better of me.”

“Eight months is a long time. I’m glad it’s getting easier to handle, but if you ever feel like you need to hurt yourself, call me, okay?” Mitsuri had told him this before. She was in his corner for as long as he would have her. 

Slowly, he nodded. “I did, sort of. After I met my bio father I knew I would be tempted if I went home alone,” he paused. “That’s part of the reason why I came to see you. You make me feel, erm,” his cheeks tinted pink. “Safe,” he murmured, looking away for a second. 

Mitsuri had to purse her lips to keep herself from smiling. It was oddly satisfying. Was it morbid to like that he came to her when he was distressed? Or did it simply reflect the deep bond and trust between them? She had craved for him to see her as safe since the beginning. Her mouth twitched. His vulnerability right now and back then made her feel close to him. It reassured her. Every perceived flaw they shared added depth to their bond. One that did not necessarily need a label or definition. 

She clasped his hand in hers. “I want you to feel safe with me more than anything,” her lips betrayed her as they pulled back into a smile. She drew his hand to her face and pressed her lips lightly to his fingers. His face looked bewildered and she saw his jaw clench. 

“I didn’t answer your question,” Obanai said with a cough. His eyes shifted nervously. With his free hand, he tapped his fingers on his thigh while his foot tapped on the floor. His anxiety was high. It reminded her of the time he trembled and had a hard time talking when he first told her about his childhood abuse. She put his hand on her lap realizing she had cornered him into an uncomfortable conversation. If they trusted each other, that was enough for her. She didn’t need to know what ‘more’ meant yet. It was unfair to force his hand before he was ready. 

“Sor-” she stopped herself from uttering an apology when she saw him open his mouth to prevent her. He told her to stop apologizing for being herself. “I put you on the spot because I felt insecure, so you don’t have to answer. We don’t have to define what ‘more’ is. At least not right now. I was getting ahead of myself. This can be casual. For now, I want to enjoy whatever we have,” she pointed between them. “Together. If that’s alright.” 

His eyes seemed to glow in the light of her living room. They were striking. His body seemed to relax as his foot and fingers slowed their tapping and stopped completely. Obanai shifted in his seat so he could face her where one leg rested on the ground and other in a figure four on the couch. He pulled his hand from hers to cup her cheek. “Yes, if you’re okay with me,” he whispered, a shy smile on his face. His other hand rested on her knee. 

“Definitely,” she felt blood rush to her neck and face before bobbing her head up and down. From this close, his gold eye looked like a full moon and his teal eye was the ocean pulling her into the tide. He kept her from floating away. 

His hand moved from her cheek to her neck, leaning towards her. Goosebumps appeared on her arms as he grasped the nape of her neck, his fingers curled over her thick hair, sending shivers down her back. His other hand brushed against her thigh. She cupped his face, running her fingers over his scars before he captured her lips. Warmth spread over her chest. It was a promise for more. Her mind buzzed. She could smell amber and pine trees, eliciting the dream she had last night. 

I wish you were mine. 

No, you will be mine. She was not going to let him slip through her fingers.

April 15, 2024

Rengoku Shinjuro,

I have attached a report with the information pertaining to your inquiry. Ms. Iguro worked for a logistics company, Yuri Logistics from 1990 to the beginning of 1996. Her sister and her partner(Never married) died in an accident, leaving behind four daughters under 18 years old. She quit and moved in order to take care of her nieces. They left her with their house in the country and enough money she didn’t need to work ever again. 

I talked to several of the workers who were around during that time. They said she was quiet and kept to herself. I reviewed the employee records to see if any of her coworkers could be the man you’re looking for. None of them matched the description you provided. Granted most of the information was redacted due to privacy protection laws.

However, one woman mentioned a business consultant with heterochromia. She could not remember the name of him, nor the company he was contracted from. I will follow up with the company for more information. 

Best Regards, 

Takayama Yori, Private Investigator

Obanai stared at the email Shinjuro forwarded. It was a slim lead, but a lead nonetheless. Most of his mother’s life was a mystery to him. He knew she gained custody of his cousins sometime before he was born. Whatever money she had, she squandered because he never saw one dime or his surviving cousin took it all. Kaburamaru was resting on his neck and peered at the phone screen, flicking his tongue out to taste the air. 

Part of him wondered how his cousin was doing. It had been years since he last looked her up. Kiwa had been in graduate school and moved far away. She was the only blood relative he had up until meeting his biological father. He expected himself to wince when he remembered her face looking at him with pity as she bandaged his face and the events leading to it. 

Usually he would feel burnt hands reaching through the ground to drag him down to Hell, but he could not feel their nails sinking into his flesh. This caused him to pause. His heart wasn’t racing nor was his chest tightening. He checked his pulse to ensure he was not imagining it. Seventy two beats per minute. Twelve breaths per minute. There was no sweat. His normal response and the emotions associated with the incident were muted. 

Obanai set down his phone. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing Therapy was working. His fingers ghosted over his facial scars, feeling their soft texture. He remembered the physical pain, but his mind was not racing. It was something that happened to him, but did not need to define him. 

He found himself walking to his guest bathroom. His hand grabbed the handle and twisted it before he paused. He leaned his forehead on the door. Why did he want to look at himself? Obanai pursed his lips. He knew what he looked like, what purpose did it serve? Other than to remind him he was ugly and scarred. His lips pulled back in a grimace and pushed the door open.

Obanai stepped inside, staring at the floor as he blindly searched for the light switch. He found it and turned on the light. Slowly, his eyes drifted up to the sink and then the mirror. It had been some time since he last looked at his reflection without a mask on. His guest bathroom was the only room with a mirror in it. One yellow and teal eye stared back at him as he examined his face. He recalled meeting the man with the same eyes and he grabbed the sink’s edge. Kaburamaru coiled tighter around his shoulders, sensing the tension in Obanai.

Two scars ran across his cheeks. The largest grooves were a light pink, while the others that branched off were a pale pink or silver. On the edges of the largest marks they were raised, but they were not the fissures and ridges he believed them to be. The ugliest thing about them was their history. 

By no means were they attractive, but they were not as grotesque as he remembered. Whether it was because the scars were aging and losing their pigment or his mind was gradually accepting what he could not change had yet to be determined. Dr. Ubuyashiki asked him not to wear the mask during sessions to improve his comfort with others seeing them. 

The other possibility was having Mitsuri see them and not instantly shy away or wince upon seeing them. She was the only one not to look at him with disgust, shock, or pity. Even Dr. Ubuyashiki pitied his appearance. Her hands smoothing over his scars when he first revealed them and then two weeks ago when they decided they were casually together. I like seeing your face, she whispered shyly. Her kindness knew no bounds and he loved her more for it. 

Their conversation about his self harm and allusions to suicide attempts stuck out in his mind. She had guessed about both and did not flee in terror after she realized he was mentally fucked up. Mitsuri didn’t care about the appearance of his scars, only how they happened. 

He had been hesitant to explain what ‘more’. Obanai barely knew what he meant other than the desire to wake up to her smiling face each morning, to cook her food, hear her laugh, and tell her he loved her.  He couldn’t permit a serious relationship when he was still striving to be better and until she knew everything from his past. He rubbed his temples. Unless she knew about his involvement in his family’s deaths, she could not make an informed decision about them. 

In mid April, Mitsuri was standing at the front of the school to greet the students and their parents attending the STEM fair. Each of the volunteers was set up in a different classroom where they could talk about their disciplines. Every one had a small activity prepared for the students to engage in. Kanae brought supplies to repot plants. Muzan was making elephant toothpaste. The physics teacher had the kids making candy catapults. The psychologist was having the kids identify different facial expressions and the emotions associated with each one. There were others she could not remember. 

The principal was standing next to Mitsuri. Her short white hair was down and she had a polite smile as usual. “It’s a good turnout,” Amane commented, turning to look at the first grade teacher. “You did a great job organizing this. We could do a humanities fair next year if the students and parents like it and alternate them year to year.” 

“You think so?” Mitsuri grinned. Her hard work was paying off. A sense of accomplishment filled her with the praise she received from the older woman. 

“Yes, I do,” Amane smiled back. “You are a great addition to our staff. I’m glad you signed on for another year even though you’re far away from your family.” 

“It was an easy decision. The teachers here are so thoughtful and welcoming. The class sizes are much more manageable. My last school had 35 students give or take per classroom,” Amane wrinkled her nose at the number. “Also, I made a lot of friends here between school and my best friend’s group of friends, so that helps being apart from my family.”

“Do you have any vacation plans?” Amane asked. Her purple eyes staring into Mitsuri’s. People said her gaze could be unsettling since she hardly blinked, but Mitsuri didn’t mind. 

“Yes, this weekend I am going to the hot springs with a group of friends. Then I plan on seeing my parents in the middle of June. I’ll get to see my niece again. She’s only one. Then in July I’ll have a bachelorette party for my best friend. She’s getting married in August,” Mitsuri said. “Are you doing anything with the kids and your husband?” She glanced at the parking lot. No one else seemed to be coming. 

“We’re going to visit my parents and relatives for a few weeks in July. It sounds like you’re going to be quite busy. I hope you make time for yourself, Mitsuri. Taking care of yourself is just as important as taking care of others. You seem to have a tendency to put your heart into everything you do, so be careful not to wear yourself out,” Amane advised before looking out to the lot. 

Mitsuri preferred to take care of others. As the oldest of six, she took care of her siblings to help her parents when they were working. Her parents always thanked her for babysitting, running errands, and taking responsibility for the younger ones. It made her feel valued. If she wasn’t useful to others, how could anyone love her? Her ability to plan, coordinate, and tend to others proved she was worthy of love and praise. 

She knew it wasn’t a healthy mindset to derive her self-worth from others. Mitsuri shut her eyes and took a deep breath. You have inherent worth. You are capable, creative, and unique. She had to challenge her own thoughts and remind herself of her self-worth.  

“Let’s head inside,” Amane noticed the lack of cars pulling in. The principal turned and opened the main door. Mitsuri followed after her. Inside, there were several groups of students and parents walking in and out of the different classrooms. There was a general chatter filtering in and out of the rooms. One of her students was holding a plant as she walked out of the botany room with her father. She was talking animatedly to him and waved at Mitsuri. She waved back and acknowledged the girl’s father with a nod.  

“If you’ll excuse me, I am going to go make sure everyone is doing well,” Mitsuri dipped her head to Amane. She walked into the first classroom that seemed mostly empty. A man with black hair and purple eyes stood at the front of the classroom. He looked similar to Muzan. His light eyes snapped up when he noticed her standing in the doorway. 

“Evening,” his voice was calm, which was not surprising considering he was a psychologist. “I don’t think we have met officially. I am Dr. Ubuyashiki, but you can call me Kagaya,” he gave her a small smile. She found herself drawn to him as she walked forward to shake his hand. He had an air of peace and kindness surrounding him. 

“Ms. Kanroji or Mitsuri,” she shook his hand firmly. His smile widened and his eyebrows furrowed before relaxing. The teacher let go of his hand. 

“My wife speaks highly of you,” he said. She flushed and touched her lips. He did not need to compliment her either. “All praises, naturally. The school is lucky to have you. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while. You seem to be a very compassionate and giving individual based on what he-” he paused. “She said,” he corrected himself. He coughed into his elbow. 

“Thank you so much. Dr. Ubuyashiki is such an amazing person, so her praise means a lot,” Mitsuri felt her palms sweating as she bowed her head. “I just wanted to check and see if you needed anything or were having any issues.”

“Not at the moment,” he said. His violet eyes were so calm and reassuring matched with a closed mouth smile. Kagaya was the type of person people spill their guts to with his gentle demeanor. “One of the parents called me a quack, but other than that everything is going well.”

“I’m so sorry that happened. If you tell me what they looked like I can find them and have them apologize,” she could not have her volunteers disrespected. He held up his hand and waved it off.

“There’s no need. I asked how he felt and if he wanted to express himself better using I statements,” Kagaya’s eyes glinted mischievously. “He turned red and stormed out. When people lash out at something they don’t understand, it’s usually from a place of pain or anger. I don’t hold it against him. It’s better to kill him with kindness.”

“Are you sure?” Mitsuri asked and he nodded. “How is everything else?”

“Good. I rarely see children since I specialize in anxiety and depression in adults. It’s refreshing,” Kagaya looked around the room, which was still empty. At the mention of anxiety and depression, her thoughts shifted to Obanai. Maybe he could give her some advice or insight. 

“Can I ask you a question about psychology? If not, no worries. I figured since you’re here I might as well ask instead of going to Dr. Google,” she scratched the back of her hand.  

“Dr. Google is a good resource, but you have to ensure the source is reliable. It depends on the question, but I will try to answer,” Kagaya rested his hands on the table, his stance open. 

“How do you help a friend-sort of friend, but not really with anxiety?” She inquired. He focused on her face and tilted his head. “Sorry, that’s weird. We’re sort of dating. I didn’t want to be unprofessional since you're my boss’s spouse,” she confessed and swallowed. He smiled slowly, his eyes warmer than before. 

“Ah. Everyone experiences anxiety differently. Most people just need someone to listen to their troubles, so actively listen if they’re telling you something. Being present can be enough if they’re experiencing symptoms. Try to validate their feelings if you can, but don’t try to fix them. As a partner, it is not your job to fix them. Take care of yourself too,” he paused and gave her a pointed look. “I always recommend therapy or medication if the symptoms are bad enough.” 

“He’s going to therapy. Thank you for giving me something to work off of,” she gave him a small bow. Both Dr. Ubuyashikis told her to take care of herself. This weekend she would indulge in self care as the seventh wheel to Tengen, his wives, Kanae, and Sanemi. Obanai had refused to go when Tengen and Sanemi asked multiple times. Due to his insistence with them, Mitsuri decided not to ask him personally. Although, she wanted him to join them. They could enjoy everything outside of the hot springs. The town had several hiking and biking trails, a shopping district, and more. She just wanted to spend as much time as possible with him, especially now. 

“No problem. I do have to admit something. My cousin seems to have developed a crush on you,” the psychologist said in a low tone. “He said you were single.”

Mitsuri almost laughed. She knew Muzan liked her. He hinted that he wanted to take her out sometime. She had been vague and dodged his invitations the best she could hoping he would take the hint. He did not. She scratched the back of her head.

“I was and still sort of am technically,” she chuckled nervously. “It’s a recent development and we aren’t telling people.” He raised an eyebrow, the irony not lost on him. He was a complete stranger and she spilled it within five minutes of meeting him. Who was he going to tell though? 

“He can be intense with women he likes...He's used to getting what he wants, so be upfront and don’t let him intimidate you,” He said before a group of students piled into the classroom. His attention turned to them. Intimidate? She wanted to ask what he meant, but now she did not have the chance. 

She walked out the door and started going in and out of the rooms to check on her volunteers. Kanae asked for supplies to clean up the potting mess the students made and the physics teacher asked for more popsicle sticks and candy for the catapults. Towards the end of the night, Mitsuri found herself standing outside the chemistry class. She had been avoiding it and Muzan. 

She sighed and stepped forward. “Mitsuri,” someone greeted her with a voice like velvet. She turned her head to see Muzan standing a few feet away. When he smiled he showed all of his teeth and for some reason it unsettled her. His wine red eyes watched her too intensely as he got closer. 

“Hey,” she smiled politely. “I was just checking to see if you needed anything.” 

“I ran out of supplies a few minutes ago. Since the fair only has ten more minutes, it seemed like a waste to get more,” he explained. There were a few students left, but they had made their way to the physics room in search of candy most likely. 

“After this wraps up, would you like to go out on a date?” he asked not even hesitating. Mitsuri rubbed her neck. She had not expected him to be so forward and with his intense gaze she felt the urge to run.  

“That’s very kind of you to ask, but I’m with someone now,” she said. His brows furrowed as he stepped right in front of her. 

“Is that so?” he scoffed at her, invading her personal space. He was only a few centimeters taller than her, but he stared down at her. His red eyes seemed closer to blood than wine up close. “Are you trying to make me jealous? You already captivated me.” He grabbed a strand of her hair and played with it. She took a step back, but his grip on her hair stopped her from taking a full step. Kagaya told her to be upfront and not be intimidated. 

“I’m not interested in you, Muzan,” even she could hear the shakiness in her voice. He smirked at her. 

“Give me a chance to show you what a catch I am,” he leaned his face towards her. “I won’t disappoint you.” She could smell the cinnamon on his breath as he neared. Ew. Her nose wrinkled. Muzan reminded her of her ex, Kyo. The way he looked at her as a possession instead of a person. She was rarely ever angry, but there it was in the pit of her stomach. Resentment built as she pinched her lips. 

“I said, I’m not interested,” Mitsuri glared at him through narrowed eyes. For a brief moment, his eyes widened, but he stayed where he was, his face a mere centimeters from hers. “Do I have to repeat myself a third time?” She growled. This time he stepped back and ruffled his wavy hair. 

“When you break up with him, give me a call,” Muzan said. “I might be willing to look past this.”

When he was out of her field of vision, she let out the breath she had been holding. Fuck him. He tried to intimidate her by towering over her and leaving her no room to walk away. That intense look he had as he approached. She was no one’s possession. Not again. Never again.

Mitsuri leaned against the wall and stared at the floor. She deserved better. Mitsuri wanted to be with Obanai. He valued her as a person. He was the kindest and most honest person she ever met. She missed him even though she had only seen him a few days ago. Pulling out her phone, there were a ton of notifications, but she swiped them all away to find Obanai’s last message. 

Obanai: You’ve got this 

She started to type a text, but stopped and pressed the call button instead. It went to voicemail after one ring. “This is Obanai Iguro’s voicemail. Leave your name, number, and a brief message. Unless you’re Tengen,” the recording said. She snorted at the last part. Sometimes she wondered if Obanai and Tengen were really friends considering how often they fought each other. There was a beep. 

“I know you’re working, but I wanted to hear your voice. It reminds me of a stream, calm and steady. That’s it. You don’t have to call me back tonight,” Mitsuri fiddled with her school ID badge. She should have just hung up then. He had said he had a hard time knowing and talking about what he wanted. She knew that feeling and had a difficult time asking for things. There were so many times Mitsuri ensured Obanai knew he could tell her anything. Shouldn't she do the same? She swallowed. 

“I’d really like you to come on the hot springs trip. We don’t even have to go into the springs. There’s other things to do, but just being around you makes me happy. So, I want you to come if you can. Have a good night.” Her voice was a little shaky as she ended the call. 

When Obanai listened to his voicemail for the third time since coming home. He was sitting in Kaburamaru’s room. The snake slithered up his arm, coiling around him like an old friend.

“Well, should I go?” He asked the white corn snake. His red eyes focused on the human's face. Kaburamaru flicked his tongue out twice, telling Obanai to go. This was why Obanai considered the snake to be his friend instead of a pet. He used his finger to stroke the snake’s head as he sent Senjuro a message, asking him to house sit.

Chapter Text

Mid April 

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Blood red eyes watched her as she ran. No way to escape. She darted from side to side to avoid what looked like pink tentacles. They were covered in teeth and claws that acted like thorns. Everywhere she ran they were right behind her. There was no pattern and they almost seemed to drag things into it as they swept towards her. All her movements were based on instinct at this point. Her breath ragged as she flipped to dodge another one. She had to keep fighting though. She couldn’t be useless. Not in this fight when it meant they had to kill the Demon King. 

I’ll just have to sacrifice myself, but even then I don’t know if that would stop Muzan’s movements. Maybe I can get behind him and twist his arms behind his back-

Suddenly, she felt a tentacle on her. It shredded her left cheek and ear. It tore one of her braids and in her shock she fell to the ground. Her legs trembled as she tried to get up. Someone picked her up as her vision faded, but she could smell the pine. Mitsuri knew it was him. 

When she opened her eyes again, her eyes found him crouched beside her. He was listing off directions to another person. His gold and teal eyes looked down when he noticed her bright eyes open. The bandages on his face had blood splatter and were splitting apart. The striped haori he wore was torn and covered in grime. 

“It’s okay. You’ve done enough,” Obanai’s calm voice told her. He was trying to console her. 

“No, I haven’t done anything useful yet. I can’t die like this,” she attempted to grasp her whiplike sword with her sword arm. Her body failed her, too fatigued to do the bare minimum. Her left shoulder was bleeding profusely, her stark white haori ruined. His mismatched eyes were solemn as he watched her try to sit up. Kaburamaru was watching her intently with what looked like tears from his spot over Obanai’s shoulders. 

“Take care of the rest,” He directed the healer before he stood up and ran back to the fight. She reached forward trying to stop him. His feet kicked up dust. Grasping her sword, she sat up and fell again. The dirt hit her face and she grimaced as it entered her wounds. 

“Wait, I am going too, Iguro-san!” 

Don’t leave me. Please. I never told you. You have to live. 

Mitsuri could not lose him. 

“No, please! Don’t die, Iguro-san!” she screamed into the night. “I don’t want anyone to die anymore!” Her vocal cords felt raw. Searing hot tears rolled down her face, burning her left cheek. A sob escaped her as the medic touched her shoulder to stop her from chasing after him. She had never even seen his handsome face. 

Don’t die, Obanai. I have to fight. I have to protect you and the others. Everyone counts in this battle, even me. I can’t be useless. Muzan must pay for everything he has done. 

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A layer of cold sweat covered her body. There were tears in her eyes. Dread filled her as her mind flashed memories-No, the dream across her vision. There was carnage and blood everywhere. Her blood was pumping through her veins, a dire need to protect Obanai and her fellow demon slayers. The cold dread as he ran away from her carrying a twisted lavender sword to certain death. 

She brought her knees to her chest as she sat up. Her hands ran through her hair. It was only a dream, she reminded herself. Why did this fantasy world seem so real? Each time she woke up afterwards she felt as if she had actually lived the dream. This one was worse than the others. 

Was it because Muzan tried to coerce her last night? He had been pushy and attempted to corner her, but she didn’t let him. Muzan backed off. He walked away. Though he seemed so insistent on going on a date, forcing her to back up against the wall. Instead of being scared or intimidated, her blood boiled with fury at being treated like an object. Why did Kagaya and Amane even associate themselves with him? They were respectable people and Muzan was a creep. 

She massaged her scalp and took in deep breaths. Sushi bounded onto the bed and pawed at her arm. His weight sunk into the mattress. Turning her head, he meowed at her before rubbing his head against her. 

“My sweet boy,” she held him in her arms. She scratched under his chin and he bumped his pink nose against her. “I love you,” she said, holding him tighter. 

She paused and grabbed her phone from underneath her white pillow. She had forgotten to charge it last night and it was at 38%. She’d have to plug it in before she left for school. There was a notification from Obanai. Last night she left a voicemail asking him to come on the hot springs trip with her but he didn’t answer before she went to bed. Pursing her lips, she typed in her password. 

“Did he say yes or no, Sush?” She shut her eyes as she clicked on their conversation. He bumped her chin, which meant he was undecided, or she thought it was. It was a spur of the moment decision to ask him to come. He probably wouldn’t since he had already told Sanemi and Tengen no. Maybe though? Mitsuri opened one eye and saw his answer. 

Obanai: I’ll come.——

There was more to the message, but she didn’t read it. Instead she threw her phone onto the green and white comforter unable to contain her excitement. It bounced once and almost fell off the bed.  

“Sushi, he said he’d come,” she nearly shook her cat, but stopped. He would truly hate her then. Captain Sushi took the brunt of her outbursts and she worried it bordered on abuse. The last time she spun him around the kitchen until he was too dizzy to walk straight. She retrieved her phone from the other side of her bed to read the rest of the message.

Obanai:—- I won’t be able to come until late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Nichirin’s owner is entertaining a group of investors, so I have to be present. 

Mitsuri: As long as you’re coming, I don’t care when you show up  ☺️

Ever since they agreed to be together casually, Mitsuri had been worried about coming onto him too strong and scaring him away. She had a difficult time containing her excitement about him. 

Mitsuri plugged her phone into the charger and started packing a bag for the trip. As she was picking out underwear she decided to take an extra pair of lacy ones. It wouldn’t hurt to buy condoms either. She’d rather be prepared than not. She flushed. They had not done anything more than make out. Maybe it was too hopeful. Only two of their make out sessions had been as heated as their first kiss. She wanted to initiate more, but she hesitated because she didn’t want to impose her own desires on Obanai. 

Sanemi and Kanae were picking her up after work as they decided to work half days. Gyomei was set to take care of Sushi. Then Obanai would be with her come tomorrow morning or sooner. 

At the beginning of Obanai’s shift, a customer sent back his wagyu steak stating it was undercooked. He wanted medium. Usually Obanai would just throw the steak back on the grill for a minute, however the customer had cut the steak into tiny pieces making that impossible. Wagyu steak was meant to be served rarer than a normal cut of meat. He personally prepared another wagyu steak for the customer to ensure the steak had been cooked to the customer’s satisfaction only for the steak to be returned the same way. He also harassed the waiter since the chefs were not meeting his expectations. It made his blood boil. No one disrespected his staff.

This customer wasted two steaks and was asking Obanai to waste a third. If he was going to be dick, then the chef was more than willing to accommodate him. He had bigger concerns tonight. Instead of cooking a third steak, Obanai tossed the pieces onto the grill until each piece had a dark brown crust. As a chef, it physically hurt to see the expensive cut ruined. He plated the steak and delivered it to the customer with eery red eyes and fedora. Obanai despised him more after seeing the hat that obscured his features. There was a woman sitting across from him. 

“Sir, I am Head Chef Iguro and I wanted to apologize for the inconvenience,” Obanai greeted him as he set down the ceramic plate in front of the gentleman and put his hands behind his back. “I have cooked your meal personally to ensure the steak was cooked thoroughly.” 

“This isn’t-” The well dressed man looked down at the pieces of steak on his plate and wrinkled his nose.  

“As a cultured man you must know, wagyu is normally prepared rare to medium due to the marbling and nature of the steak. However, you must know better. You have the refined palate of an epicure who believes white pepper is spicy and steak should taste like rubber,” Obanai narrowed his eyes as the man’s nostrils flared. 

“I know the owner. If you think-” 

“You must forgive me. Mr. Wada didn’t mention you would be visiting,” Obanai relaxed his face. 

“Mr. Wada must have forgotten. It was a last second decision,” the customer straightened his back. 

“If you knew the owner you would know his name isn’t Mr. Wada. Please enjoy your meal and never return, Sir ,” Obanai said politely. The customer glared at him while his date laughed. The chef bowed his head, satisfied with shaming the man in front of his date and returned to the kitchen. 

Two hours later, Obanai watched Tecchin Tecchikawahara, the owner of Nichirin, sit down with his party of six. The owner was shorter than Obanai with a balding head and chin length white hair. His son, Gantetsu, sat next to him. He was taller with short cropped brown hair. The other three were potential investors from out of town. They were looking for something different and new to introduce into their city. There was one petite woman with startling blue-green eyes and a black bob cut. The other two were men. One was almost as tall as Gyomei with long brown hair and large turquoise eyes and the second was shorter with dark brown-orange hair with sky blue eyes. 

Seeing them made Obanai aware of every fault in the kitchen and restaurant. There was one spot on the kitchen floor right before the walk-in freezer that had not been cleaned properly, but there was no time to fix it. The spices needed to be restocked. Several of the knives needed to be sharpened. One of the line cooks called saying he would be late due to a flat tire, so Obanai ordered him an uber to have him here. He did not care if it cost him 7,000 yen and some for a tip, he needed his best people here and now. There was more, but his mind was overloaded. 

Chef Urokodaki and Obanai made sure all the staff members scheduled tonight were their best employees. Chef Sabito, Aoi, Ryo, and the new hire, Zenitsu, were among the staff. Obanai would be in charge of the kitchen while Urokodaki spoke with the owner and investors. At some point tonight, Obanai would have to go and introduce himself as the future Head Chef, but for now he was in his element. He examined each plate that went out and made the final touches before setting them on the service counter for the waiters and waitresses. Aoi was in charge of the owner’s table and catered to their every need. 

During the night, Obanai had to throw several dishes away because they had been sitting too long and got cold. At one point, a line cook realized the vendor had supplied whole mushrooms instead of sliced, so Obanai had to wash them and cut them as quickly as possible. He should have caught the mistake before tonight. It cost him time. When the last line cook arrived, he took over. Obanai went back to his place at the head of the kitchen, ready to put out any other mishaps the crew had during the night. 

Around 9 P.M. the dinner rush was over. Obanai was helping Zenitsu clean up his work station during the down time when Aoi stepped into the kitchen. She gestured at the Sous Chef. Mr. Tecchikawahara and his party were asking for Obanai to meet with them. He told her he would be out in five minutes and she accepted it with a brief nod. 

He wiped his hands on the towel that he always had over his shoulder and untied his apron. It was covered with splatters of sauce and broth. He really did not want to meet them, but if he was going to take this promotion he had to get used to the administrative side of the job. The promotion was part of becoming better. To make something of himself even with the filthy blood he was born with. 

At the sink he washed his hands thoroughly, removing any debris under his nails. The normalcy of washing his hands at a sink he had thousands of times over calmed his nerves a fraction. Grounding him to focus on the task at hand. 

His mouth twisted briefly as he grabbed the clean white chef’s coat with his initials from his locker. He tapped each finger to his thumb and took a few deep breaths. He only had to meet them and then come back to the sanctuary of the kitchen. After tonight he had the rest of the weekend off to spend with Mitsuri and his friends. Biting the inside of his cheek, he pushed open the door to the restaurant’s interior. 

Everything seemed well maintained out here. Aoi wouldn’t allow for anything less than perfection. She had an eye for detail and prevented issues before they happened at the front of the house. 

Obanai went to the owner’s table. Mr. Tecchikawahara’s head turned in his direction as he approached. Chef Urokodaki stood up to introduce Obanai to the rest of the table. 

“This is Chef Iguro. When I retire next month, he will be taking over as Head Chef,” he then pointed out the different investors. The woman with blue-green eyes was Makomo. Kyogai was the tall man and Kamanue was the shorter one. None of them seemed to question his face mask. His boss might have already mentioned Obanai’s quirk. He bowed his head to each one in greeting. Luckily, he did not have to shake their hands or they would feel his clammy palms.

“It’s been a pleasure to cook for you tonight,” Obanai said stiffly. His mind was starting to go blank, unsure how to continue the conversation. Chef Urokodaki had not said he needed to prepare a pitch or anything. Makomo smiled at him. Stay in the moment. 

“I really enjoyed the unagi. Was it seasoned with lime rind?” She asked, her eyes half lidded as if she was tired. He met her gaze for a brief second before looking at the wall behind her.  He still had a hard time making eye contact with women he just met. Mitsuri had been the exception. 

“No, it’s actually sancho, Japanese pepper, known for its citrus essence,” Obanai answered. “Depending on which part of the plant you use can alter the flavor profile. I had to do a few trials to figure out the right formula for the recipe I used tonight.” 

Makomo and the other two investors started asking menu and food related questions and he was able to be concise and not feel overwhelmed. Objectively, he was a good chef and could talk about the pros and cons of each ingredient in recipes. Most people found it incredibly boring, but these three noted the differences in their versions of the dishes.

Eventually, Mr. Tecchikawahara wished him a good night and Obanai was able to return to the kitchen through the double doors. He slid past Zenitsu who was going between two different stations and took over one of the stations to help out the younger chef. Obanai went on autopilot afterwards. His job came as second nature having worked every position in the restaurant business. 

Chef Urokodaki and Mr. Tecchikawahara pulled Obanai into the office behind the kitchen at the end of the night. The owner said the investors were impressed with Obanai’s knowledge and looked forward to working with him in the future. They wanted to open a new location within a year in Makomo’s home city of Hiroshima. It was roughly four hours away from here, outside of Osaka.

Opening a new location meant he would be expected to stay there and train the new staff for at least a month or longer to ensure they held up Nichirin’s high standards. It would be a change from his usual routine. Uprooting him from what he knew. Would he have enough experience by then to train a whole team? It was one thing to train an individual, but a collective? His skin was starting to itch just thinking about the prospect. 

There were already issues at the current location. Staffing was an ongoing issue. Most line cooks walked in and out like a revolving door. Obanai was just beginning to see Zenitsu for his potential. The younger man was a bit neurotic and anxious, but welcome to constructive criticism to improve. He saw some of himself in the blonde. If Obanai were to leave, he wondered what would happen to his crew here. How many of them would leave if he didn’t find a suitable interim replacement? Then Nichirin would fail because he- stop the spiral. It’s not an all or nothing situation. 

“What are you really worried about?” Obanai whispered to himself as he got into his Jeep. In the trunk, there was a duffel bag packed with clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, and other necessities in case he wanted to drive to the hot springs resort after work. “Dig deeper,” he murmured, running his hands over the leather steering wheel. 

Anxiety stemmed from the expectations he placed on himself. What were the expectations as Head Chef? They were carefully outlined in the job description. Obanai already acted as the Head Chef for half the week and knew exactly what to do for the job. Part of the reason he decided to take the promotion was because he didn't think anyone else would do better than him. However, it also meant he had to lead and train others. Some of the anxiety originated there, but it was deeper than that. What if he was not a suitable replacement for Chef Urokodaki? 

Chef Urokodaki had everyone’s respect for his steadfast personality and willingness to work with others and train them. He took the time to work through issues or educate any one. Obanai was trying to adopt a similar approach. His previous style of teaching could be terse, brutal, and cruel at points. He recalled snapping at Zenitsu for banging a knife on the chopping board, which would dull the blade quicker. 

He despised incompetency, which ultimately was a reflection on himself more than his staff. If they failed, he failed them by not providing enough guidance. His own self hatred bled through when he critiqued others. 

Presumably, he took the blame on himself because his mother had always forced him to take responsibility for everything that happened. He internalized what she said until it was ingrained in his DNA, hence the belief he tarnished everything he touched. 

It wasn’t true though. His entire career he had been praised for his originality, ability to act quickly to the needs of the kitchen, and make something out of nothing. His recipes and food made people happy and in turn he felt he was doing some good in the world even if it was on the micro scale. 

Obanai was doing better at challenging his belief and need for perfection and accepting nothing less in hindsight, but in the moment he struggled. There was nothing he could do tonight or tomorrow about his future career. He would have to let it go for now. Obanai massaged his temples and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Sanemi had been right about him needing a vacation to relax before he started the new job.

It was past midnight. He tapped on the steering wheel trying to decide if he would drive now or in the morning to the hot springs. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep if he went home. He would lay awake in bed tossing and turning until inevitably his alarm would go off and he would have to drive to the resort. 

He took out his phone and saw a few messages from Mitsuri. One of them included a photo of her in a bathrobe saying she was just about to go into the springs. Her long hair was pulled up into a bun. The bathrobe left her neck and collarbones exposed leading down to her chest. 

His mouth went dry. Obanai tried his best not to focus on the way the robe barely covered her chest. Lately, he found himself imagining what he could do to her if she allowed him. Given the way she responded to his touch and kissing, she would, which made him hesitate. 

All his sexual encounters had been meaningless physical acts. He was indifferent to sex, but Obanai never had sex with someone he genuinely cared for. Maybe it would be different? Obanai just wanted to make her come over and over until her eyes rolled back and her legs quivered. Maybe then he would be worthy of her, at least in one respect. 

If he fucked up their first time, he would never live it down. He feared disappointing her, which was why he did not initiate more than kissing. Feelings of inadequacy plagued his mind. She looked like a spring goddess and he looked like a cartoon villain with his freaky eyes and scars. He was getting used to the puckered lines on his face, but they were still ugly. 

Even with the weight lifting and regular exercise, Obanai remained scrawny. The cords in his arms were not bulging or thick. They were lean and toned, nothing like Tengen and Sanemi’s bulk. Narrow and lithe frame. It didn't help that he had disordered eating habits. He was short at 162 centimeters and roughly 55 kilograms if he was soaking wet. Damnit. Then there were the scars littered over his arms, marked by razor blades. Another mark of shame and explanations he wasn't ready to give. What did Mitsuri see that she liked? She could do so much better-except she chose him, Obanai reminded himself. Mitsuri continued to choose him despite all of his shortcomings. 

What would be the consequences of their first time if he did fuck it up? Or when he told her he did not want to be touched during sex. If she tried, he might push her away or spark an anxiety attack. 

With the other women, he tied their hands or held them against a wall or bed to prevent any contact. With men, he had been more lenient, but there was still dread in the back of his head that they could hurt him. Even with Mitsuri, his first reaction was to freeze if she touched him unsuspectingly. It was not normal. He wasn’t normal. 

Last week, he had to stop kissing her because she moved her hand from his neck to his back attempting to push him into her. Obanai could feel his lungs being squeezed tightly and the panic setting in. He never wanted to be constrained. When she noticed him pausing, she removed her hands. Mitsuri respected his boundaries and surprisingly was not put off by them thus far. He hoped it stayed that way. 

Obanai: I just got off and driving now. I’ll be there in a few hours.

Mitsuri: YAY! I’ll be waiting for you! 🦉

Obanai: There’s no need. Get some sleep. 

When Mitsuri first arrived at the resort Tengen picked her up and hugged her so tight she felt the wind get knocked out of her. He thanked her for finally convincing Obanai to join them before he set her down. Obanai had told Tengen he was coming and she didn’t think he had mentioned her specifically. Mitsuri wondered how much Tengen or the others knew. It wasn’t like they hid the fact they hung out regularly or talked daily. Kanae knew Mitsuri liked him and that was it. 

Obanai said before he wanted to keep their not relationship quiet until they figured this out. She understood his reasoning. He had never had a relationship before and was an extremely private person to begin with. He didn’t want their friends’ judgment, ridicule, or involvement. This was between them. If they didn’t work out it would be awkward and messy if everyone knew. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. 

Mitsuri spent most of the evening in the hot springs with the other women. The springs were separated between men and women. Though there were some private springs available for rent that Tengen and his wives had used before. The springs closed for the night at 10 P.M. 

Everyone retired to their rooms afterwards. They were all on the same level. Her room was a few doors down from the polycule and couple. She wondered if getting a room so close to them was the best idea now. If she wanted to bring Obanai back to her room there would be questions. 

Mitsuri had a hard time keeping her eyes open. The minerals and salts from the hot spring relaxed her body and her muscles felt like they were jello. Her eyelids drooped just before she heard her phone vibrate with a message from Obanai. She set an alarm on her phone for two hours so she’d be able to greet him and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

The alarm sounded and she hit snooze three times until she saw another text from the chef saying he was here. She texted she’d be right down. She put the robe on over her pajamas before she crouched down to the mini fridge to grab the frosted glass container of Sunomono with Tororo Kombu. She left the third floor room with her key card and headed down the steps in her flip flops. The sound of her flip flops hitting the steps helped jolt her awake.

In the lobby, her green eyes found Obanai by the front desk checking in. His eyes darted between the elevator and stairwell. There was a bag slung over his shoulder as the front desk worker passed over some paperwork. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he was still wearing his work clothes. His slanted eyes softened as she approached him. 

“Good morning,” Mitsuri smiled at him. He glanced at the clock above the front desk. It was past 3 A.M. The attendant nodded at Mitsuri as she processed Obanai’s credit card. 

“Morning,” Obanai affirmed. 

“Fifth floor. At the elevator take a right and room 534 will be on the left hand side,” the attendant passed over an envelope with the plastic key card. Obanai took it off the counter top and adjusted the strap on his bag. They walked into the elevator and the doors closed. He pressed the button for the fifth floor. 

“I’m glad you decided to come,” she felt herself vibrating with nervous energy as she glanced his way. “It means a lot that you’re here with me.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he said before he looked down at the elevator floor. She couldn’t repress her smile as he met her gaze again. Obanai had no idea the effect he had on her just with a single look or a simple phrase. It’d been that way since they met where he made her feel warm and fuzzy. He pointed at the frosted dish in the crook of her elbow. 

“What did you make?” He asked.

“I made you Sunomono with Tororo Kombu in case you were hungry,” she presented him with the glass container. “With sesame seeds,” she added. It reminded her of the first time she gave him the dish. The soft glances and their hands brushing as she handed him the dish. His shoulders lost their rigidity. 

“You didn’t have to,” Obanai said, “but thank you.” The elevator beeped. They stepped off and took a right as directed. He unlocked the door to his room. He discarded his mask when they got inside. 

It was nearly identical to her room. One queen sized bed with a dark comforter and white sheets, a small table, mini fridge, closet, and bathroom with a walk in shower. The only difference was he had a large bay window overlooking the forest below. Her view was the parking lot. 

“Ahh, look at the view,” Mitsuri set the bowl on the small table and made her way over to the window. She heard Obanai set down his bag on the bed. Outside the moon glowed, highlighting the pine, birch, and oak trees below. With the moonlight, he didn’t even need to turn on a light. There were hiking trails she hoped to go on with him tomorrow.

“Kanae and Sanemi said they would join us for a hike tomorrow. Tengen and the wives plan on getting a private hot spring for themselves,” Mitsuri said. When he didn’t reply, she turned around and saw him watching her from his seat on the bed. His eyes trailed up her body, lingering over her hips and waist, until he found her green eyes. There was something about the way he was looking that made her face heat up. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mitsuri asked. He blinked a few times before responding.  

“You,” he admitted. “You look pretty in the moonlight.” 

“I’m never going to get used to you complimenting me,” Mitsuri tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear.

“You will,” the raven haired man replied with a grin. It was uncharacteristic and more confident than she expected. The way he praised her made her want to push him onto the bed and climb on top of him. Her legs entangled with his, her hands running through his hair while she kissed him. Maybe she could run her hands down his chest as she straddled him between her thighs. Except he froze when she tried to put her arms around his shoulders or back when they kissed. Pinning him to a bed would cause the same reaction. 

“You look pretty too,” she made her way towards him, stopping in front of him. “I always liked your eyes and nose,” she whispered. Obanai reached up to touch her face. Mitsuri leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on his lips. It still gave her butterflies to think he liked her enough to let her kiss him. 

“Thank you for coming,” she said, bringing her head back. His eyelids seemed heavy. “I just wanted to see you before you went to bed. I should go back to my room,” she covered her mouth to yawn. 

“I’ll message you when I wake up,” Obanai replied and he dropped his hand from her face. He stood up and led her to the door. She nodded and walked back to her room. 

The following morning, Mitsuri made her way down to the dining room. Kanae was reading a book. Hinatsuru and Suma sat holding hands. Sanemi, Tengen, and Makio slept in later normally. Obanai was probably sleeping too. Hopefully, he looked so tired when he got here. He said he would text her when he woke up.

She grabbed a plate of food piled high with pancakes, syrup, strawberries, blueberries, and a cup of coffee before sitting down next to Kanae. The future bride shut the book and set it on the table. 

“Are you still up for hiking this morning?” She asked.

“Of course,” Mitsuri started cutting up her pancakes. 

“Did Obanai get in last night?” Hinatsuru glanced over at Mitsuri. The pink haired girl nodded as she took her first bite of the fruit and pancakes. Hinatsuru shared a look with Kanae and they smirked. Mitsuri looked at her plate of food and tried to ignore them. 

Kanae’s phone rang and she pulled it out to accept a video call. Shinobu’s face appeared on the screen. Her black and purple hair was up in a bun. She was wearing her pajamas and nursing a cup of coffee on her couch. It must have been a rare day off for the resident. 

“Morning, ladies. How are the hot springs?” the doctor asked before sipping her black coffee. 

“Pretty good. It’s nice to get out and relax for a change with the wedding coming up. You’d like it,” Kanae answered. From Shinobu’s end, a door opened behind her and a fair skinned man appeared in only a grey towel wrapped around his hips. He had spiky black hair down to his angular collarbones. Mitsuri raised an eyebrow. This muscular man must have been the flavor of the month. 

“Wait, is that Giyuu?” Kanae squinted at her screen. Mitsuri recalled that name. Shinobu turned around to see the man before nodding at Kanae. Apparently, Giyuu was not old news.

“I thought you were sleeping,” she said to him. He walked towards the doctor and leaned down to wrap his arms around her shoulders. The man looked almost regal with his stern face. His eyes were the deepest shade of blue, shaped by thin eyebrows. He was handsome. 

“Say hello to my sister and our friends, Giyuu,” Shinobu looked back at the screen. 

“Hey,” Giyuu’s facial expression did not change as he greeted them in a monotone voice. This was the guy Shinobu called clingy? He seemed expressionless. “I am going to shower,” he added, turning his attention to Shinobu again. He didn’t seem to care about the audience watching them. 

“I’ll join you in a second,” Shinobu tossed him a smile and he walked the opposite direction, presumably to the bathroom. Her purple eyes followed him before bringing her attention back to her sister and friends. “So, Giyuu and I are dating again,” she said as the corners of her mouth turned upward. 

“He’s back? I thought he was too clingy. You have to give us details!” Suma demanded and pushed herself between Mitsuri and Kanae to get into the shot. 

“No,” Shinobu smiled wider as her eyes sparkled and ended the call. Mitsuri laughed at how serious her tone was. Suma started crying and Mitsuri hugged the pregnant woman. Hinatsuru and Kanae shook their heads and returned to their food. 

The trail the group decided to take was roughly five miles with heavy vegetation, trees, and rocky paths. There were several points where they had to go slowly due to the steepness of the hills. All the trails overlapped, so they could take a different route if needed. Kanae and Sanemi were in front of Obanai and Mitsuri. 

Mitsuri wore a white jacket with dark leggings and bright yellow hiking shoes. She never failed to amuse Obanai with her sense of fashion. He was dulled in comparison with his white and black striped hoodie. Their hands brushed while they walked side by side enjoying each other’s company. Her green eyes would find his anytime they touched, a hint of a smile. 

Kanae pointed out the different types of wildflowers, ferns, and undergrowth as they went. She would bend down to collect a few samples to press them later. Mitsuri grabbed a few of her own, including yellow dandelions. 

“Why are you grabbing those? You can get them in front of your house,” Sanemi furrowed his nearly nonexistent eyebrows at her. 

“I like them,” Mitsuri replied simply. Her chin dipped down as she crouched down to pick up the weed. Sanemi shook his head as he turned and kept walking the trail to meet up with Kanae who had ventured further ahead. Instead her hand hovered over the flower and then pulled her hand back before standing back up. 

“He’s right. I don’t need to collect them,” Mitsuri said quietly and looked down at her feet. Obanai glared at Sanemi’s back before he disappeared beyond the bend in the trail. It was none of his business what Mitsuri did. “They’re just weeds,” she added. Sanemi and Kanae were out of view now. Obanai pulled down his mask, so he could breathe properly for a moment. 

“If you like them then you should take them. Don’t diminish yourself because you're worried what others will think,” he advised. 

“Have you told me that before?” Her eyes blinked rapidly. Obanai shook his head. He bent his knees and plucked the dandelion she hovered over. Her cheeks tinted pink as he handed it to her. Her fingertips grazed his palm, her touch warming his icy veins.

“You didn’t have to,” she mumbled. He opened his mouth to respond, but instead he heard Sanemi and Kanae in a heated conversation over which path to take. Mitsuri’s attention shifted to the trail ahead of them and took one step forward. 

“Hold up. If we witness this fight we might get a court summons in our future,” Obanai said. Mitsuri snorted and Obanai smiled at the sound of it. Her shoulders shook as she laughed. Gods, he loved her. 

With a rare ounce of courage, he stepped directly behind her and stood on his toes to find that special spot right below her earlobe. He saw the goosebumps form on her neck with a single breath. 

“Are you cold?” Obanai whispered, trying not to smirk. 

“No, I just-” she shivered. 

“Are you sure?” More goosebumps rose. 

“Yes, I just like it when you-” she was starting to ramble. 

“This?” He interjected, pressing his lips to the skin just a bit below her right earlobe. Her neck turned pink beneath the goosebumps. She bobbed her head. 

“I noticed,” he whispered and kissed her neck again, inhaling the vanilla and sakura notes. She tilted her head to the side to expose more of her neck. He wondered if her whole body would turn pink if he kissed every inch and curve of her porcelain skin. 

Last night, her skin glowed under the moonlight and enchanted him. This morning under the sunlight, her skin shone and he was enthralled. Every piece of her body, mind, and soul spoke to him. A coil tightened in his stomach. Obanai took a step back, satisfied with teasing her and pulled his mask back up. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, stepping beside her. Her face was nearly as pink as her hair with her eyes shut and her lips made a thin line. 

“That was mean,” Mitsuri said, her fists clenched at her sides. “Really mean.” Her voice trembled. 

“I won’t do it again,” Obanai swore casting her a sideways glance, squinting his eyes slightly. Mitsuri opened her eyes then and unclenched her fists. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she blurted out. Mitsuri covered her mouth not realizing how loud she had been. 

“Then what do you mean?” He cocked his head to the side. This was more fun than he had expected. Mitsuri bounced on her feet and turned to face him directly. 

“I really like when you kiss my neck, so the next time you do. Don’t stop,” Mitsuri locked eyes with him, daring him to act. Her voice was firm and decisive before she parted her lips slightly. She left him speechless.

The way she challenged him stirred his desire. Fuck. He never wanted someone as much as he did right now. If he ripped off his mask and kissed her senseless, she would let him. She would let him. It still stunned him to realize she wanted him with all that she knew. He swallowed, unable to answer her. It was his turn to be flustered. His courage fled. He coughed and looked away. His heart pounded against his chest. 

“Obanai? Mitsuri?” he heard Sanemi calling for them. “Are you still picking weeds?” Even though his best friend was an asshole, Obanai was glad. Sanemi just saved him from having to respond to Mitsuri right away. 

After the hike, Tengen asked if anyone wanted to make an alcohol run and Obanai was the only one to agree. Sanemi had a headache otherwise he would have joined. Obanai just needed space to think away from Mitsuri. He stared out the window of Tengen’s orange Ford Explorer. His jaw was rigid and his shoulders tensed. He put the silicon snake toy in his pocket and squeezed it. 

“I’m surprised you came with me, Babe. I thought you hated me,” Tengen commented.  

“Hate is a strong word. It’s closer to revulsion, Babe,” Obanai said condescendingly, quick to revert back to snapping. He grimaced behind the mask, irritated with himself. Try to be better. 

“Thank the gods, I was getting worried,” Tengen let out a sigh of relief. Obanai turned his head completely to look at the giant. “You’ve been so polite and formal for the past month, it was weirding me out. I missed my virgo. I love how you’re always hypercritical and quick to anger. What got into you?” 

Tengen loved Obanai being critical and lashing out at him? He should have known Tengen was a masochist. The chef scratched his neck with his short trimmed nails. 

“I am trying to be better,” Obanai admitted. There was no reason to lie. Tengen raised an eyebrow, sparing a glance at Obanai before taking a right turn without his blinker on. His fuschia eyes narrowed, apprising Obanai.

“Trying to be better for what? You’re delightful as you are,” Tengen said. Better for me. Better for Mitsuri and my other friends, even you. If he admitted that, it would leave him vulnerable. Obanai grimaced as he remembered the time Tengen told him about the car accident that led to his brothers’ deaths. He had been responsible and carried the guilt. 

“For myself,” Obanai said quietly. “I’m trying to be more compassionate for myself and others.” Tengen glanced over at him, studying him. 

“My therapist suggested something similar to help with the guilt. I kept thinking about what I could have done differently the night my brothers died. Hinasturu had to remind me to keep practicing empathy with myself while I recovered,” he looked back at the road, his fuschia eyes vacant, lost in a memory, before glimmering with their usual spark.

“For what it’s worth, we all love you as the prickly pear you are,” Tengen reached over and laid his hand over Obanai’s knee. Obanai grabbed Tengen’s wrist and brought it to the center console. 

“Don’t touch me,” he spat. 

“That’s my virgo! One day, you’ll let me,” Tengen flashed him a smile and pulled into a strip mall. He parked the SUV on the outskirts of the parking lot. “Daddy’s buying, so get whatever you want, Babe.” 

Obanai pressed his palm to his forehead. He should have known better than to come alone with Tengen. Sanemi acted as a buffer even though the two were more likely to throw fists at each other. He pushed the door open and stepped out of the car to follow Tengen into the alcohol store. 

Tengen took a shopping cart and started pulling bottles randomly off the shelves. Obanai decided not to question his madness and started walking down the aisles aimlessly with his hands in the hoodie pocket, twisting the snake toy between his fingers. There were no other customers and Obanai could see Tengen’s head above the short shelves. His phone buzzed in his front pocket and he pulled it out. He adjusted his face mask to bring it down past his nose.

Mitsuri: Could you get me a bottle of rose? Nothing expensive and I can pay you back 🙏

Obanai: Tengen said he was paying. 

Mitsuri: Really? 

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri: 🥳…Does it bother you if I drink?

Obanai: No. 

Obanai: As long as you don’t drink cheap whiskey. My mother drank it and the smell still makes me sick.

Mitsuri: I never drink whiskey and don’t plan on starting. I’m sorry she did that 

Obanai: It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize for her. She’s in the past. 

Mitsuri: Okay. Did I upset you when I called you mean?

Obanai stared at the blue bubble and white letters. He wondered how to respond. Calling him mean he could deal with, his coworkers and friends called him worse. It was the look in her lime green eyes. Her heated gaze as she told him ‘Don’t stop’. He stretched his hand out before responding. 

Obanai: No, what you said afterward. 

Mitsuri: About kissing my neck?

Obanai: More specifically, ‘Don’t stop’. I don’t want to fuck this up. 

Mitsuri: Me neither. Can we talk about it later tonight? 

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri: It’s a date! 😊

“Obanai, are you done?” Tengen shouted in the vastness of the store. He grabbed a bottle of rose that looked expensive while his heart was hammering in his chest. Obanai thought this trip would be a way to get closer to Mitsuri and relax. Instead he contemplated what he was going to tell Mitsuri tonight, his mind restless.

“Mitsuri wanted this,” Obanai said as he found Tengen standing by the checkout counter. Tengen wiggled his eyebrows at the shorter man. 

“So, when are you going to make a move on her?” Tengen asked as he started pulling the alcohol on the counter. Obanai shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. “You came on the trip because she asked you to.”

“I never said that,” he bristled. 

“You didn’t have to. It’s clear she likes you, Obanai,” Tengen used his name instead of a moniker. He was being serious. Obanai’s mouth opened and raised his eyes to Tengen’s face. This Tengen was the one Obanai liked where he was upfront and blunt. Obanai could be around this Tengen without wanting to deck him. 

“When I saw her and you talking on the couch after going out for my birthday, I could just tell by how she looked at you. Her eyes were glued on you the entire car ride,” Tengen set the last case on the counter. “Then when I saw you before the hike she was blushing so hard when you whispered something in her ear and made her laugh. It’s so obvious. Make a move on her or I will do it for you.”

“I get that you have issues with women, but Mitsuri is probably the best girl you will ever meet. She’s sweet, kind, and into whatever you got going on,” Tengen gestured to all of Obanai. “You would make a good couple. Think about it! Doom and gloom snake boy with a bubblegum pink smiley girl. Very flashy!”

Obanai groaned and furrowed his brow. So much for being serious. Were Mitsuri and him that obvious? Then he remembered the home screen image on his phone of her and him on New Year’s Eve. His eyes looked at her like she’s the love of his life while she smiled like the sun as she leaned into his shoulder. They were very fucking obvious. Obanai had no way of arguing. 

The cashier ran Tengen’s credit card and the giant didn’t even bat an eye at the amount. Lucky bastard. Tengen grabbed the bags and placed them in the cart before wheeling out. Tengen kicked one leg behind the cart, set both feet on the lower rail, and coasted through the parking lot. The cashier glared at Tengen and then tried to make eye contact with Obanai. He looked away, not wanting the attention and toyed with the snake in his hoodie.

“Sorry, he’s an idiot,” Obanai apologized. The cashier shrugged and pulled out his phone. 

“Babe, don’t keep me waiting!” Tengen shouted as he coasted on the grocery cart to his SUV. Obanai had no choice but to follow. 

At dinner, everyone was finally together. Sanemi and Kanae were seated directly across from Mitsuri and Obanai. Suma, Makio, Hinsturu, Tengen were at the other end of the table. Obanai sipped tomato juice through a straw. Mitsuri had five bowls stacked in front of her and was working on a sixth. He looked between Sanemi and Tengen who were arguing. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Sanemi grumbled, baring his teeth. “Your children will not be third siblings. That’s not even a thing!” 

“Prove it,” Tengen taunted him with a deadpan look, “Show me your sources.” Sanemi bared his teeth and opened his mouth to start yelling. Tengen’s fuschia eyes seemed to brighten. Mitsuri tilted her head in Obanai’s direction and moved her feet under the table. 

“It’s okay. They do this all the time,” he bent over to whisper in her ear. 

“Sanemi,” Kanae cautioned her fiance. “You know he’s just trying to irritate you.” Kanae put her hand on the man’s shoulder and turned to look at Tengen. “You made your point. Suma is about to start crying if you keep this up,” she pointed at the woman with wavy black hair beside Hinasturu. 

“She always cries, even more now. In the hot springs, she cried over a baby bird chirping,” Makio said. 

“It was so cute,” Suma hiccuped. Hinasturu took a napkin and dabbed Suma’s face. Her co-wife buried her face into Hinasturu’s shoulder. The gentlest of Tengen’s wives started playing with her hair and whispering sweet words to calm the pregnant woman. Tengen squeezed Suma’s upper arm. 

“Fine,” Tengen’s eyes darted between Obanai and Mitsuri before landing on the pink haired woman. “How’s our cute teacher doing? I feel like I haven’t talked to you this whole trip,” Tengen grinned at her. Obanai bit the inside of his cheek and watched Mitsuri from the corner of his good eye. She set her utensils down and stacked the sixth bowl. 

“Pretty good. The STEM fair went well and the principal said she would be interested in doing a humanities fair next year,” she beamed, her eyes brightening. “Obviously, it's too soon to ask, but I would love for you to come to talk about producing music or being a DJ.”

“I suppose I could bring back DJ Sound Pillar,” Tengen put his hand under his chin as if in thought.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could,” Mitsuri said. She sipped the rose wine. “It’s still early though.” 

“I can do it, but only for you, Honey,” he flashed her a smile. His red eyes gleaming at her, almost sultry. He was laying it on thick and Obanai had to inhale deeply. Under the tablecloth, he grasped his pant leg. 

Tengen always tried to ruffle his friends’ feathers. It was his modus operandi to get under their skin like a tick. How were his wives not angered by his blatant flirting? Unless they already knew Tengen was dicking around. 

A gentle tap on his knee broke his train of thought. He looked to his left while Mitsuri continued talking to Tengen. Her knee touched his under the table. Had she noticed he was getting irritated and wanted to soothe him?

It was in Mitsuri’s nature to be perceptive and empathetic. Always putting others before herself. She would always come first for him. Her sunny personality drew him into her embrace originally and continued to pull on the string of fate every day since. For the rest of the dinner, she kept her knee on his as a subtle form of affection, placating his jealousy and anger. This was part of the more he wanted where they supported each other without words. It was the small gestures that made him realize he would never love anyone like he loved her. That he never wanted to let her go. 

It was nearly 11 P.M. when Mitsuri came up to his room. Her long hair was pulled up into a bun and she wore the hotel’s robe over her pajamas. Her neck and collarbone were exposed. Mitsuri sat on the bed next to him. Her legs tucked underneath her. There was nowhere else to sit except for the two hard wooden chairs beside the table. The moonlight provided enough light like it had last night. 

“So, what upset you when I said, ‘Don’t stop’?” Mitsuri asked, watching him intently. Obanai looked around the room from the clock, television, and the window before coming back to meet Mitsuri’s gaze. His heart quickened. 

“It was-” he started trying to find his words. “When you say something like-Well,” he pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to stop at kissing you, but I don’t want to fuck it up.” 

“Why would you fuck it up?” Mitsuri asked, tilting her head. Her eyebrows drew together. Concern plainly written on her face. If he wanted them to be a couple, he had to be honest with her about his insecurities and flaws.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said. “You know I’ve never been in a relationship and all my encounters were one night stands. They were meaningless. However, you mean something to me,” he swallowed. 

Mitsuri scooted closer to him before sitting up. Her hands cradled his face, her thumbs over his facial scars. Her green eyes searched his two toned gaze. His pupils were wide, his brows raised. 

“You won’t disappoint me because being with you is enough. I just want to be with you, Obanai, no matter what we’re doing. Whether it’s eating soba, hiking, or going to the gym,” she said. 

Mitsuri leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Her lips slid over his. Her sweet taste was something he began to crave over the last few weeks. He warmed as she immersed herself deeper into his heart, melting further into him. She was breathless when they parted, her lips swollen. 

“So you don’t have to worry about disappointing me whenever we do have sex.” It was not an ‘if’, but a ‘when’ for her. He gulped and stared at the floor. 

“Look, I’m not exactly normal when it comes to sex,” he needed to be upfront. “I have an aversion to women touching me. There were a few times a woman would try to touch me and I would push her away. You’re the first I ever let see or touch my face, so if we go further, I wouldn’t want you to touch me,” He tapped his fingers on his thigh and turned his head to watch her. One strand of raven hair hung lazily over his forehead. “I don’t want to push you away.”

Mitsuri sat back on her knees. She brought her finger to her lips. “I guessed you didn’t like being touched. When I tried to touch your back last week, you clammed up,” she said. “I will never do anything to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to be touched, I won’t,” she promised, looking him in the eye. Neither spoke. 

Would she really be okay with it? She had always been a touchy person with her friends and family. He liked holding her hand, hugging, and kissing her, but the instant it became sexual he would break. She was not running away. 

“When you said you weren’t normal, I got concerned. Like if you had a particular fetish or you had issues with-” Mitsuri looked down at his crotch and flushed, unable to continue the sentence.

“There’s no issues there,” Obanai shook his head and ignored the blood traveling lower with their candid conversation. He tapped his feet on the floor to redirect the blood and started to repeat the recipe for gyudon. Beef, onion, dashi…

“Even if there were, we could figure it out. I like you as you are,” she smiled at him before sighing. “I wish the hot springs were open, so you could enjoy them,” she said. 

“We could, if you really want to go,” Obanai said almost sheepishly. 

“It’s closed though,” she set her feet on the ground. 

“I know how to pick locks, so if you really want to go we can,” he confessed. 

“Yes, but no. We can’t,” Mitsuri pushed her bangs to the side. “How do you know how to pick locks?” She asked.

“Sanemi and I learned so we could get into old buildings,” Obanai scratched his neck. “Back in high school we’d break in and smoke weed. That or break beer bottles.” 

“You learned in high school?” Mitsuri raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Obanai said, looking away.

“Would you be okay with going together?” she asked, her green eyes questioning him. He found himself nodding. Bathing together was a different form of intimacy. It would not necessarily lead to anything. 

“Let’s go,” Mitsuri beamed, standing up. “You only live once, right?”

Obanai and Mitsuri crept down the steps to the ground floor in their robes. At 12 A.M. there was no one around. Obanai held her hand the entire time as he led them down the stairs. Her heart trembled. She would follow him anywhere. In his other hand he had a pair of bobby pins. 

The pair made their way to the entrance of the hot springs. Obanai dropped her hand and started working on the lock. Mitsuri held her hands to her face and her face turned red. She had to see if he could pick a lock to verify a theory. She shouldn’t be asking him to break in. This was against the rules and potentially illegal for trespassing. If they were caught-

“In,” Obanai pulled down the lever and opened the door slowly. She bit her hand to keep herself from being loud. She walked in and turned on the light. There were shelves for people’s personal items and beyond that were showers to rinse off before getting into the actual baths. 

“Come on,” she swallowed as she led him to the showers to wash off any impurities. They washed off in separate showers before they walked to one of the private baths. 

It was a small room with a sunken pool and a high window where the stars glimmered. Obanai looked away as she dropped her robe to the ground and stepped in. The mineral water only came to her waist, but the temperature brought her instant relief. When she looked behind her, Obanai was standing still in his robe. His dark hair hid his eyes and the mask hid the rest. 

“Oba,” she sank deeper into the water before she turned. She reached up to him. His eyes found her hand noticing the movement. “Join me?” Mitsuri smiled up at him. “Please?”

Obanai nodded and pushed his bangs away. He untied his robe, giving her a quick glance as his cheeks reddened. Despite her curiosity, Mitsuri turned her head as he had when she disrobed. She only looked back when she heard the splash of water. He sat on the built in bench, submerging his torso. His whole body was tense. He was still wearing the mask. She knew he had reservations about his face and body, which she understood all too well. Mitsuri swam towards him, pushing aside her reservations. 

“Can I come closer?” She asked, his posture was rigid, but he nodded. “Can I-” her hand reached for his mask, but he pulled it off himself and set it on the wooden floor beside the pool. 

“I like seeing your smile," Mitsuri commented and the corners of his mouth pulled back slightly. She sat down beside him. The water was too cloudy to see either of their bodies, which she was grateful for. Closing her eyes, Mitsuri held his hand under the water and sat in silence. The sensation of water flowing over her fatigued muscles after the morning hike. The minerals in the water were absorbed into her skin. 

Intimacy and sex were extremely important to her. Intimacy more so than the physical act. The connection between two people expressed through small touches, kisses, and eye contact. She craved this connection as she felt his thumb rub the back of her hand. 

“Why do you collect dandelions?” Obanai asked, breaking the silence. She opened her eyes and turned her head. His shoulders were loose and he was watching her intently.

“I always liked them. People call them weeds even though they’re a flower just like a rose or lily. To me, they are bright, colorful, and remind me of the sun. Why do sunflowers get all the glory, you know? Dandelions deserve to be appreciated for what they are. It’s a bit stupid, but I don’t want them to be ignored,” she explained.

“It’s not stupid,” he commented. “They’re pretty in their own right even if they are common.” He understood. He understood her. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Mitsuri looked away for a second and then back at him as he nodded. 

“Do you remember the first time I went to your house and met Kaburamaru?” Mitsuri asked. He tightened his grip on her hand. 

“Yes,” Obanai answered. 

“I was locked out of my house. You could have picked the lock back then, right? Why didn’t you?” 

He dipped his head and avoided eye contact. A tinge of pink over his ears. Obanai mumbled something and she had to move closer to hear his answer. Their shoulders touched. 

“I wanted to spend more time with you,” he admitted. That made her smile. He had felt their connection that November night too. 

“I’m glad you did,” she whispered, her lips touching the shell of his ear, “because that’s the night I knew I wanted you.” 

She felt him shiver, his hand dropping hers. Obanai turned his head, his hand snaked around her neck to pull down her hair to force her head up to expose her neck. Mitsuri felt his hot breath on her neck which sent tingles over her body. 

“Mitsuri, once we start I won’t want to stop,” his lips finding the spot he found earlier that made her knees wobble and her whole body turn the same color as her hair.  

“Who says I’d want you to stop?” Mitsuri asked. His lips were on the column of her neck the next second, sucking lightly. She clenched her hands against the stone to stop herself from caressing him. 

“We’re going back to my room, so I can take care of you,” Obanai murmured against her skin.

“I can-” Mitsuri began. He shook his head, the ends of his hair tickling her chest. 

“Right now,” Obanai breathed against her skin. One hand moved from her breast down her side. Fingertips barely touching her. Ghosting over her skin. It kept going lower. His other hand held her wrist up near her shoulder. He stopped her from touching him. “Right here,” he kissed the valley between her breasts right above her heart. He glanced up at her.

“All of this is for you,” his teal and amber eyes darkened. She couldn’t look away. “Let me take care of you,” Obanai whispered, a soft plea. His hot breath and his eye contact made her tremble. He grabbed her hip and she surrendered with a nod. 

Obanai brought his head up to her face, a hair’s breadth away before he captured her lips. Hesitancy was replaced with eagerness. She couldn’t tell what it was between the heat, his kiss, or teasing touches, but the small ember she had meant to protect burned hotter. The blood pumping through her veins felt like lava, her whole body flushing for him. He squeezed her wrist, pushing it above her head. 

“Keep your hands up here,” he whispered into her ear before kissing her temple. “Can you do that for me, Mitsuri?” 

“Yes,” she answered and brought her other hand up above her head. He released her hand to have it support him as he hovered above her. His eyes wandered over her body, her breasts, her pudgy stomach, and her wide hips. “Sorry, I’m not-” Mitsuri said only to be interjected. 

“There’s no need to apologize when you have the body of a goddess,” his voice was deeper. Her heart fluttered at his praise. Obanai leaned down and their eyes met. Under his soft gaze, she felt their bond tighten, pulling on the red string. He looked at her with such devotion. She longed to reach up and caress his face. She parted her lips anticipating another kiss. 

“I want to learn every noise you make. The louder you are,” he paused. “The more I will reward you.” 

She gasped. Mitsuri could feel the heat pooling inside her. To some extent, she knew she liked praise during sex, but she didn't know how much until his smooth voice hit her ears. She couldn’t be too loud. Not with other people just on the other side of the thin drywall. Her mouth twisted. “I don’t think I should. You have neighbors,” Mitsuri turned her head towards the wall. 

He caressed her face and turned her back to face him. “They don’t matter. All I want is for you to enjoy this, so let go. Forget everything except for you and me,” he used his thumb to trace her lips before he pulled down the lower lip in an agonizingly slow motion. 

“Yes,” her voice trembled. His gold and teal eyes were completely dilated. There was a still moment between them. Mitsuri’s lip trembled. She could have sworn she saw into his soul. A quiet, soft gold flame behind his gaze. He closed his eyes. She moaned lightly as his tongue ran over her lips before she opened her mouth wider. 

As they kissed, one of his hands trailed down from her face, neck, collarbone, and her breast. Obanai squeezed it before he pinched her nipple. She took a sharp intake of breath and froze. He paused, “Sorry,-” 

“No, I liked it,” Mitsuri flushed. “My tits can be sensitive, but I liked it,” she said, giving him gentle encouragement to continue. His thumb rolled over her nipple, lighter this time and she shut her eyes to enjoy the ripples of pleasure. 

“What else do you like?” Obanai whispered into her ear, breathily. She loved his voice. He could do anything to her and she would love it. He feared he would disappoint her. Before she could reply, his mouth found her neck leaving soft kisses. She knew he told her to keep her hands up, but she so badly wanted to run them through his silky black hair. To feel him and show him she appreciated him. But she listened and kept them up. 

“I like to be handled roughly. Not like slapping or hitting, but firmly,” Mitsuri tried to explain. She felt his hand over her hip tightened, nails digging in. Goosebumps spread over her body. He smiled against her neck feeling her reaction. 

“Like that?” Obanai teased her. He already knew the answer, but she nodded. The sound of him sucking on her neck made her want to cry out, but she was still too conscious of the people in the room next to his. His teeth grazed her skin and she used her hand to cover up her mouth as a whimper threatened to escape her mouth. He could do anything and she would react the same way. Just being with him like this was enough. 

“I want to hear you, remember?” He turned her head towards him. His almond shaped eyes lured her in. “It’s just us,” Obanai reminded her. Us. Mitsuri had asked him to come on this trip solely to spend time with her. To be together and be us . 

“Okay,” Mitsuri said. He gave her a quick peck before returning his attention elsewhere. His lips went down the column of her neck. A small moan found its way out of her mouth as he readjusted his position above her. His thigh rested between her legs. Through her shorts and panties, she felt the pressure of his thigh against her core. Anytime he moved just a fraction a shot of electricity would shoot up her spine. She had to force herself not to grind against his thigh. Mitsuri did not come off as desperate as she felt. His tongue left a trail from her neck to her chest before he took her nipple in his mouth. As he repositioned his body over her, she felt his hardened cock through his shorts. 

Mitsuri whimpered. Her body betrayed her and her hips lifted to press herself against him. He lifted his head to look up at her as he cupped her breast. A smirk on his face, meaning to tease her. 

“What do you want?” He asked as he brought his hips to meet hers. She felt the blood rush as she opened her mouth. Even though she liked sex, she still had a hard time telling her partners what she wanted. Mitsuri had always been a giver, so when Obanai told her he would take care of her, she had no idea what to do or say. When she didn’t say anything, he pushed her lower half into the mattress, shifting his hips a fraction, but it increased the pressure on her clit. 

“Tell me,” He whispered softly. The back of his hand smoothed over her cheek and she closed her eyes. His soothing voice, his amber-pine scent, his body against hers, and his teasing were overwhelming her senses. 

“I want you,” How could she possibly express what she desired when she wanted all of him? The sound of him sucking on her neck, the light sensation coursing through her anytime he held her, the taste of him on her lips. She rolled her hips up trying to show him. He groaned and his fingers curled around her hair. 

“Are you sure?” Obanai asked, his eyes almost glowing in the moonlight making her heart stutter. It reminded her of the hesitancy and shyness he showed right before their first kiss. They had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. It was moving faster than she expected and maybe quicker than he expected. He admitted he had never dated anyone, just one nightstands. However, like everything else with him, it felt right. His kisses, his teasing, his caresses, his everything. 

She wanted to be with him in every sense of the word. She brought one hand down and placed it under his jaw to have him look directly at her. His lower jaw trembled slightly. 

“Yes,” Mitsuri answered. Suddenly, his lips were on hers again. Her heart raced and blood pooled in her core. His hand ran down her side and hooked under her waistband, pulling down her shorts and panties. She had to lift her hips off the mattress and bend her knees to take them off all the way. Her green eyes found his heated gaze as they parted. Every part of her was exposed for him alone. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in the sight of her flushed skin and hitched breaths. 

She saw his Adam’s apple bob. He was nervous too. Maybe more than her. She pushed herself up in the bed, using her elbows to sit up. As she moved, his head snapped back up to her. “You said it was just us, right?” she asked, giving him a soft smile. 

“Yes,” he nodded. 

“So, forget everything else,” she tried to put aside her insecurities and restraints in order to calm him. He hesitated another moment. 

“Let go,” she whispered and reached out to touch his cheek, breaking her promise not to touch him. Obanai leaned into her hand. She adored him. This was part of the more they both desired. Breaking past this barrier to deepen their connection. He kissed the inside of her wrist before sitting up to remove the rest of his clothes. 

She swallowed as she took in the sight of his thighs and hip bones and traveled upward. The feelings he elicited from her were wild. She recalled the first time their hands touched and her head buzzed. It never stopped. The humming in her chest anytime she saw him. The subtle ways he showed her he cared. His willingness to hang out with her. When he made her the mochi and gave her the socks. Their conversations surrounding their insecurities. He reassured her she wasn’t a burden. The way his gold and teal eyes found her in a crowd. He saw her for who she was. He appreciated her for being herself like a dandelion. Despite all of her nervousness, weirdness, and rambling he liked her. 

Mitsuri licked her lips as it hit her. She was falling for him. Not in the superficial way she had been with others. She didn’t feel like a marionette performing for an audience. They were just themselves and that was more than enough. She only hoped he felt the same. 

He laid down on his side and she rolled over to face him. Mitsuri admired his shoulders and arms, but resisted the urge to touch them. He had an aversion to physical touch due to his upbringing. Even with her. He let her touch his face and hug him, but his whole body went rigid if she tried to wrap her arms around him while kissing. With time she hoped that would change. Obanai had even asked her to keep her hands up as a way of politely telling her not to touch him. She would go at his speed. 

“Be with me,” Mitsuri coaxed him. Be with me always. 

Noses touched, lips brushed languidly. He brought his hand to her ribcage and trailed down to her hip. His light touch was driving her wild and she scooted closer to him. He gripped her hip to stop her from closing the distance completely and shook his head. Instead his hand drifted from her hip to her sex. He used the palm of his hand to grind against her swollen clit. She took in a sharp breath. His long fingers were making circles over her outer labia. 

She knew his hands were skillful, but she didn’t appreciate them until now. Everywhere he touched left a mark on her soul. Maybe she read too much into her dreams, but they could have been lovers in a past life or alternative universe. His touch was familiar and new all at the same time. Mitsuri moaned loudly as the fire built inside her. The wave of emotions he elicited in her made her weak against him. Her thighs pressed together to increase the pressure as one of his fingers dipped into her heat. 

“Fuck,” she groaned, closing her eyes. He pressed his forehead to hers and they shared their breaths. She felt dizzy. 

“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered before giving her an open mouthed kiss. Their tongues met. She loved this. The warmth spread from her heart to the rest of her body whenever they kissed. Mitsuri wondered if his tongue was as skillful as his hands. She moaned into his mouth as he added another finger and stretched her out. 

“You’re so wet, Mitsuri,” Obanai said with what could only be smugness. It was surprising to hear his regularly calm and smooth voice become deeper. Her hips rocked against his fingers.

“Obanai,” she cried out, quivering under his hand. 

“That’s right,” Obanai encouraged her to vocalize her pleasure. He had said if she was louder he would reward her. She let go, every time he slid his fingers in and out while his thumb teased her clit, she moaned. She wanted more of him. All of him with all of her. 

“Please,” she panted. Their eyes met, both hazy with desire. He curled his fingers inside of her. “I want you inside me,” she moaned as she tried to push down onto his fingers. 

“You said you had condoms. Where?” Obanai asked, pulling his fingers from her. Mitsuri rolled over to find her discarded robe and found the pack in the pocket. She put it in his hand and laid on her side. Obanai rolled it over his erection before returning to lying on his side next to Mitsuri.

His hand moved to her knee in order to bring her leg up over his hip, pulling them together. She hissed when she felt his dick touch her sensitive bud. 

“Please,” she repeated herself. He positioned himself, the head of his cock swiping over her slit. He was mean. She swallowed. “Obanai, please stop teasing me,” she pleaded, more desperate than she wanted to sound. 

“I like seeing you unravel,” he grunted in her ear. He eased into her. She grasped the pillow underneath her head as she adjusted to his girth. Her thigh squeezed around his hip, keeping him from pulling out all the way as he thrust into her. Fire licked at her insides. His scent intoxicated her as she buried her face into his dark hair. It was muskier than usual. He wrapped his arm around her back, holding her close. She tilted her pelvis towards him. 

At first, his movements were rhythmic, easing into her. Mitsuri wanted him to go faster, but he was slow and deliberate. She tried to meet each thrust. Mitsuri wanted every inch of him to stretch and fill her until she was gasping for air, suffocated by her desire and lust. 

“I love feeling you inside me,” she said, half frenzied. Obanai lost his composure with that single phrase and his pace quickened. Her back arched as their hips met. This is what she had been looking for in every partner. Losing herself completely in the other person. Melting into him. The fire spread from her core to the rest of her body as their eyes locked on each other. 

His desire, effort, and the sound of his heavy breathing made her cry out. She felt her walls tighten around his cock as she came. Obanai rolled her onto her back, her leg still wrapped around him. She looked up at him. He wore a smug smile, his hips slowed. Mitsuri could feel him pulsing inside her and she rocked against him, encouraging him to chase his own pleasure. 

He took the hint and moved against her again. He tucked his arms under her, holding her close as his hips snapped against her. The aftershocks trembled through her. She grabbed the pillow under her head to stop herself from wrapping herself around Obanai. Mitsuri heard herself moaning again as they kissed.

“F-fuck!” Obanai gasped as he came, his cock twitching inside her. He hovered above her before lying his body over hers. She could hear his ragged breath in her ear and she shivered. She could feel his heart racing her own. 

The moments after sex were her favorite. Time stopped. Their breaths shared, hearts beat quickly, both partners satisfied. Not always, but in this case they were. As he recovered, he brought his head up. His eyes searched her face as he caressed her cheek. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked, pulling out of her completely. Mitsuri could feel the slick sweat between the two of them and nodded. Obanai got off of her and threw the condom in the trash after tying it off. He turned and held out his hand for her. She grabbed it and he pulled her off the bed and into the bathroom. 

She noticed the towel hanging over the mirror. At first, she thought it was weird and then she realized he put the towel there. He didn’t want to look at himself. His demons ran deep. The sight pulled her out of her post sex haze. Obanai turned on the water. Mitsuri held her hands to her chest as she watched him. His hair acted like a veil and hid his scars from her at this angle. 

How could she possibly make him understand how beautiful he was? She pushed his hair back to caress his scars. He shut his eyelids, savoring her touch. The shower started to steam. Mitsuri kissed one of his cheeks, resting her swollen lips on the shiny pink scar. 

“I adore you,” she breathed against his skin. 

“Mitsuri,” he whispered her name like a prayer, his jawline quivering. She met his wide eyed gaze. A shared look of longing passed between them. She really was falling for him. 

Chapter Text

Mid April to Early May

In the twilight, time froze. These hours were solely for the two of them. Between the candid talk, hot spring, and hotel room, he was lost in her. The warm light she cast over his shadow was brighter than ever. When she told him she wanted him, any boundaries he had set up were dismantled. He allowed himself to be self indulgent with her affections. Nothing else mattered except her. He loved seeing her come undone. The sighs and moans as he teased out of her were enough. He adored each sound her sweet mouth made and encouraged her to be louder. Next time, Obanai wanted to see her tremble with pleasure. 

There was a stillness in Obanai’s mind as he watched Mitsuri sleeping beside him. She was covered in sheets and a thin hotel comforter. Her breaths were deep. What they had was real. They were not a fantasy. One he had not let himself dare to dream about until a few months ago. He had wasted so much time. 

This was not what he had expected on the drive here. He had hoped to kiss her a few times and spend the rest of the time hiking, talking, or shopping with their friends. Making love was not planned. His mind was strangely quiet. He was waiting for the doubts to creep in. They would come, but in this hotel room it was only him and Mitsuri. 

Being with you is enough. I just want to be with you, Obanai, she told him. He believed her even though he didn’t understand why other than the fact that he trusted her. Is this what it was supposed to feel like? Tengen told him yesterday that she was into whatever he had going on. If she allowed it, he was never going to let her go. Not after this night. 

He slept for two hours after their shower. Sleep was elusive as always, but there were no nightmares. Now he was waiting for the 5 A.M. alarm to go off. Then she would leave to go back to her room before the others woke. Part of him wanted her to stay and tell everyone that they were together. Why did he care so much if people knew anyway? Nearly everyone knew they liked each other. Tengen himself said he would make a move on Mitsuri for him if he didn’t do anything. It was not going to last long. 

Obanai threaded his hand through her long hair and gently massaged her scalp. She turned in her sleep with a contented sigh. He took a strand and pressed a kiss on the green ends. 

“I love you,” he breathed against her hair, too quiet to be heard. One day he would tell her properly. When he considered himself better and worthy of her he would. Maybe by that time she would feel the same. He closed his eyes, savoring the sense of quiet comfort lying beside the woman he loved. All he wanted was this normalcy. 

One of the first times they hung out, Mitsuri asked what his dream was. He never dreamt or wanted for anything. Right now though, he wondered if his dream was simply to be normal. Could that even be considered a dream? To be devoid of pain, worry, and torment that plagued him since he was child. He had been passive most of his life, accepting what was given instead of asking for what he needed and wanted. 

He laid his head down on the pillow and stared at her face. Freckles dusted over her nose and beneath her eyes, right below the beauty marks. There were lines around the corner of her mouth from her constant smile. She kept her hair down last night and the pink and green flooded over the pillow like a watermelon river. 

The moonlight was giving way to the sun’s rays. Indigo night skies faded to make way for the pink and orange hues of the sunrise. Their twilight was nearly over. She would have to leave soon. The alarm went off and her nose wrinkled. He rolled over and hit the snooze button. 

“Morning,” he said. She opened her eyes, which seemed to sparkle despite the early hour. Pink tinted her cheeks recalling last night’s events. 

“Hey,” she greeted him, her voice lower than normal as she beamed at him. He reached out to caress her face. She moved closer to him, so their noses touched. His scars pulled lightly on his skin as he smiled. “I don’t want to get up,” she murmured.

“I know,” he whispered. He was tempted to tell her to go back to sleep, but he was not ready to deal with the repercussions of their friends finding out about their relationship. Tengen would be insufferable. Not yet. They were not even officially together. He could not ask her to be his partner until she knew everything. When he would tell her though, he had no idea. 

How was he supposed to bring up the fact he burnt down his family’s home and four people died? Should he bring it up over coffee or tea? Green tea seemed to be the type of tea to drink while he spilled his darkest secrets. If she rejected him or ran, he would not blame her. When could he possibly tell her though? He should have told her before sleeping together. Now the doubts trickled in. 

Was it toxic of him to keep her in the dark? He wanted to tell her, but the idea of her leaving or rejecting him plagued his mind. It was selfish. He inhaled deeply. Obanai was going to tell her the truth, eventually. 

Mitsuri kissed him lightly, breaking up his anxious thoughts. He placed his hand over the small of her back, dragging her towards him. One moment longer to live in their suspended twilight. His hand trailed up her back to cradle the nape of her neck, fingers curled over her thick hair. Her warmth melted away the frost in his veins. She pulled back reluctantly when the alarm went off again. 

“I should get going,” Mitsuri whispered and sat up at the edge of the bed. He watched as she slipped the robe over her shirt and shorts before he stood up and led her to the door. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said. Her hand hovered over the handle. 

“Just so you know, you didn’t fuck it up. Last night was everything I could have ever wanted,” Mitsuri’s cheeks turned pink and smiled shyly. 

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Green eyes flickered from their joined hands to his face. The red string of fate tightening over their wrists. She was so damned beautiful. Obanai kissed the back of her hand, unable to find words to convey his gratitude for her existence. 

Mitsuri made it back to her room in a daze. She spun around the hallway before opening her door and crawled into her own bed. The stunned look on Obanai’s face was adorable when his mouth opened slightly and his brows raised for a split second. When he didn’t say anything she knew she had left him speechless. Soon she fell asleep again with the taste of Obanai on her lips. 

A few hours later she found herself in the lobby with two of Tengen’s wives. She had already checked out and was waiting on Sanemi and Kanae so they could go home. She was humming a love song she heard on Kanae’s Spotify. All morning she had a hard time containing her excitement and had a smile plastered on her face about yesterday’s events. 

When she saw Obanai after breakfast, she wanted to embrace him and kiss his facial scars. Instead they exchanged pleasantries before he got a call from work about one of their vendors falling through on a delivery. He shot her an apologetic glance. Afterward, Sanemi and Tengen grabbed him to go out on another hike, so Tengen could take some videos for his TikTok account. Mitsuri laughed when her crush gave her one last look with an exasperated sigh as Tengen and Sanemi walked arm in arm out of the lobby. He was always the unwilling participant. 

Hinasturu and Makio were sitting on the couch chatting next to her. Suma was in the room resting before they had to check out. At eight months pregnant, Mitsuri could only imagine how much energy she expended to go on this trip. Mitsuri yawned and closed her eyes. She touched her neck recalling the way Obanai’s mouth felt sucking on her skin. If he was as skilled as she thought he was she wondered if he would be willing to go down on her. Her body warmed and she crossed her legs.

“Are you about to leave?” Obanai’s smooth voice said and her eyes snapped open to see him standing beside the couch. He was holding his bag and looking directly at Mitsuri. Flashbacks to earlier made her flush. His smug smile as he teased her. The devious look in his eyes mixed with the idea of him going down on her kept her from speaking. Now was not the time to be thirsty.

“Yep, we’re just waiting on Tengen and Suma. She wanted to rest up until the last minute,” Makio answered. Obanai looked past Mitsuri at the woman with two toned hair and nodded. 

“She’s nearly due, isn’t she?” he asked, trying to make conversation. Makio’s jaw opened slightly and Hinasturu cocked her head to the side. 

“In about three weeks,” Hinasturu responded, “We hope he comes earlier though. She’s miserable.” He nodded before turning his attention back to Mitsuri looking at her expectantly. 

“I’m just waiting on Sanemi and Kanae,” she said. Under the mask, she could see him gritting his teeth and he looked down at the floor. He wanted to say something, but was hesitant. She turned her whole body towards him and uncrossed her legs to give him her undivided attention. 

“Earlier I was going to ask, but do you want to ride back with me? If you’re ready to go that is,” Obanai offered. “Your house is closer to mine than Sanemi’s.” It was a flimsy excuse. Mitsuri could feel Makio and Hinatsuru looking between them with anticipation. They weren’t going to stay secret for long when they were this obvious. 

“I’m ready. I just have to let Kanae know I’m riding you,” her face reddened at the Freudian slip. Makio laughed out loud. “With you. I meant with you. Sorry,” Mitsuri corrected herself, but she could see Obanai freeze and shut his eyes in embarrassment. He grasped the duffle bag strap tighter and she could see the blue veins on the back of his hand. 

“I-It’s fine. I’ll bring my car to the front,” he waved off her apology. Obanai walked-no, ran away. Makio hadn’t stopped laughing at her expense while Hinasturu tried to hide a smile behind her hand. 

“I’ve never seen Obanai run so quickly. Are you ever going to tell him you like him or just keep slipping up?” Hinasturu asked. Mitsuri knew she was a horrible liar and didn’t even try. 

“Maybe,” she hid her face behind her hands. It was a noncommittal vague answer, which she hoped would be accepted. Out of the poly que, Hinasturu was the most careful with her words whereas the other two were brash and louder. Makio held her sides as she laughed. Hinasturu gave her a reassuring smile as Mitsuri stood up. 

“I’ll see you two later,” Mitsuri gave them a quick hug before retrieving her suitcase and walking out the front door to wait for Obanai. 

She sent a message to Kanae telling her she was riding home with Obanai, which earned her one winky face emoji. It only took him a few minutes to pull his Jeep around to the front. Mitsuri threw her suitcase in the trunk and then went to sit in the front seat. They were quiet until Obanai got onto the highway and he pulled off his black mask. 

“I’m sorry about what I said in front of them. It was an honest mistake,” Mitsuri said, fiddling with her fingers. His eyebrows raised slightly. 

“You don’t have to. Makio seemed very amused,” His calm voice remained steady. “It won’t be a secret for long if we keep acting like this.” 

Mitsuri stared at him. He was the one to ask if she wanted to drive back with him. Would it be terrible if everyone knew? They wanted to be together and considering how last night went, this was more than just a fling. At least she hoped it was. There was a small part of her which remained insecure with this inbetween state. He did not like labels to begin with. Maybe he wanted to be together, but not define it. 

“Would it bother you if everyone knew?” She asked as she shifted her feet. “I know we’re still figuring it out, but we’re sort of obvious, aren’t we?” Mitsuri laughed to hide her nerves. He peered over at her after he changed lanes. 

“Everyone knows we have mutual feelings. Tengen told me to make a move on you and if I didn’t he would do it for me,” he furrowed his brow. Tengen and Obanai’s friendship fascinated her because they always seemed at odds. Obanai’s voicemail even included an insult for the white haired man. 

“How would he do that?” She could not imagine how that would work. 

“I have no clue, but it would be very flashy,” he sighed. “For now, I want to focus on us. I want more than this,” he paused, biting his lip. “I want to take you out on dates, give you flowers, and make you laugh.” His voice was rough as if he was forcing the words out. It must have been difficult for him to admit this much. She acted quicker than thinking as she reached for his hand across the center console. His ears were pink and she smiled. 

“I feel the same,” her heart blazed with warmth. The small ember she wanted to protect originally was growing, building permanent roots in her heart. 

“I just can’t- I haven’t told you everything about my past,” he pressed his lips together. “You should know everything before. I’m still working through it all, so it’s going to be a while. Unless you know, I can’t be anything more to you.”

A small fire burned inside of her. He was pulling back again even though he said he wanted more. One memorable, passionate night forward and two ‘I can’t’ backwards. She wanted to give him all the time in the world to process his past and childhood, but she was never going to reject him short of committing murder. Even then, it would depend on the circumstances. Time and time again she told him she would accept anything he had to tell her. She would only sound like a broken record if she told him again. 

“I said it last night, but I want you. Good or bad. Rain or shine. I like you,” she needed to make her emotions clear to him. Normally, she was not a pushy person, but she had been patient every step of the way. “I don’t need to know everything to know I want to be with you,” Mitsuri said decisively. 

“Last night was incredible. I know you’re worried about fucking this up, but you haven’t,” she was not going to let him slip away from her without speaking up. They danced around each other for too long. “I won’t let you.”

“Mitsuri,” he said calmly as he interlaced their fingers. She could not tell if her or his palms were sweating. Maybe both. “I am not saying I can’t be with you,” he said, sparing her a look before refocusing on the road. 

“Oh,” she blinked a few times realizing she’d been too quick to assume the worst. In previous conversations, she told him to tell his story at his pace. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll be waiting,” she said. She pulled out her phone after he didn’t say anything else. His other hand was tight around the wheel. 

He held her hand for most of the trip. She turned on her pop punk playlist. As she sang, he watched her with a hint of a smile. Obanai seemed to reserve that genuine smile just for her and she loved the way it made her mind buzz and heart flutter every time.

On Monday, Obanai was sitting in the clinic’s lobby. He requested an early appointment with Dr. Ubuyashiki following the weekend’s events. The doubt hit last night after dropping off Mitsuri. He hated how his mind drifted towards negativity. What if she had just pitied him? What if she had been desperate for sex? What if she regretted what happened? The what ifs were running rampant. They were wrong. She said he hadn’t fucked up. That she wouldn’t let him. He trusted her over his intrusive thoughts. It was too easy to slip back into familiarity. 

“Mr. Iguro, Dr. Ubuyashiki is ready for you now,” the receptionist informed him. Obanai made his way to the therapist’s office in the back. The dark haired man was sitting in his lounge chair with his paper and clipboard in his lap as Obanai sat down on the couch. 

“Obanai,” Dr. Ubuyashiki greeted him with a neutral face. “Before we begin, in the interest of self disclosure, I have to tell you I met Mitsuri last week,” he said. Obanai stared at the therapist and waited for further explanation. “My wife is the principal at her school, so I volunteered at the STEM fair Mitsuri organized. Not many women fit her description, so it wasn’t hard to deduce who she was.” 

“What did you think of her?” Obanai asked before swallowing. Most of the people who knew Mitsuri liked her, but who wouldn’t? The therapist leaned back in his chair. 

“She was very kind. She actually asked about you, not by name obviously, but how she could help a friend with anxiety,” he explained. Obanai felt his face warm. Mitsuri was looking for ways to help him. “I told her to validate your feelings, but she could not fix you. Many people try to fix their friends when it’s not their responsibility,” he gave Obanai a pointed look.

“I don’t expect her to. There’s no cure for my issues, but they are getting easier to handle,” Obanai said. 

He had not told his therapist anything about the recent developments with Mitsuri. Not the kiss, how they were seeing each other, or the fact they slept together. Had it only been three weeks? There was a lot to tell that would take more than an hour to decipher all his feelings. Obanai did not know where to begin. 

“Do you remember when you told me to ask Mitsuri what she wanted?” Obanai began and the therapist nodded slowly. “I asked her and she-” Obanai stared at the table in front of him instead of the therapist’s calm lavender eyes. 

Obanai bounced his knee up and down as his throat constricted when he tried to speak again. To admit they were together would be making it known to someone other than themselves. It would make them real, not just a secret they shared. His therapist was legally bound to keep what was said private. He rubbed his temples. 

“What did she say?” Dr. Ubuyashiki prompted. He glanced up and saw the therapist lean forward in his chair. He wore a closed mouth smile with relaxed eyebrows, willing to accept whatever Obanai told him. This was the exact reason Obanai kept coming to therapy because this man genuinely cared for his patients and shaped himself to the individual’s needs.  

“For some reason, she has feelings for me and wants to be together. We’ve been seeing each other casually,” he bit his lower lip as he watched the older man. 

“Casually?” His therapist implored. For Obanai there was nothing casual about his relationship with Mitsuri. He already knew he loved her and wanted to be with her for however long she would have him. At least until she realized what a piece of shit he was. She would realize just how broken he was when a depressive episode struck. If she saw him lay in bed, she might realize what his depression and anxiety really were. His feelings would shut down like they did in November. Where he was numb, desolate, unmotivated, and unwilling to move unless forced. He squeezed his eyes shut and cradled his head in his hands. Stop it. 

Mitsuri was such a happy, cheerful person. What the hell did she see in him? She could do much better than the short, masked weirdo. She would regret it. Maybe she just wanted to see what- 

Stop it! He had to curb these thoughts. That’s not how she is at all. Obanai massaged the back of his head with his thumbs as he bent his head down. That wasn’t how she saw him. Calm down. 

Be with me, he recalled her words drawing him back into her, away from the hideous, self-defeating thoughts he always carried. Her skin shining in the moonlight, a light sheen of sweat, and her pink and green hair falling over the pillows. Mitsuri’s eyelids fluttered as he teased her. Her moans echoed in his head. He’d been overzealous in asking her to be loud. 

When he checked out of the resort, he overheard a man at the front desk asking to switch rooms. Apparently, the people in room 534 were fucking loudly past 1 A.M. He had not told her because she would have been paralyzed by embarrassment, especially after her riding comment. While he should have been ashamed, he was not. He was smug, knowing he had been the one to make Mitsuri cry out loud enough to disturb the neighbors. He loved the way her flushed body looked beneath him and the lazy smile on her face afterward. It seemed like the weekend had been only a dream. A memory to last a lifetime. 

“Obanai?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. He waved a hand under his head to grab his attention. “What are you thinking?” 

“This weekend,” he paused, unsure how much he wanted to disclose. “We went to the hot springs with our friends.”

“I thought you had decided not to go,” Kagaya commented. “What convinced you?”

“Thursday night Mitsuri called and asked me to come. I went for her,” Obanai admitted. He knew he was too far gone to reject Mitsuri. “We haven’t told our friends yet. They would get too involved. Tengen already harasses me about her. He’ll be insufferable if he finds out.”

He was stalling. His heart rate quickened and he grabbed the white silicon snake from his jacket pocket. Obanai threaded the snake over and under his fingers, teasing the tension from his hands. 

“You know how I told you I thought I was asexual if I were to choose a label. I’m not sure how true that is,” Obanai stared at the wisteria pillows on the couch, unable to meet the therapist’s gaze. “Except- I’m terrible at explaining this.”

“Take your time,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said. He could hear the scratch of his pen striking the paper. 

“I’ve never been sexually attracted to someone, not really. When I look at a person who is objectively attractive I have no urges. When I did anything… The person would approach me. There was no actual desire when I fucked them. I was indifferent. It was bland and meaningless,” he pursed his lips, “which is why I thought I was ace.” 

“Except the minute I met Mitsuri, I was interested in her. Ever since September, I’ve had fantasies about Mitsuri. It was always what I could do for her, never what she could do to me,” he took in a breath letting everything spill. “We slept together,” Obanai let the statement hang in the air as he looked up. The other man nodded with quiet acceptance. “With her, it was different.”

“How so?” 

“The physical act didn’t matter as much as the emotional side. All that mattered was making sure she was satisfied. I didn’t care about myself, only her,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t want her to touch me. That’s not normal. It’s weird-”

“Obanai, there’s nothing weird about it. Sex doesn’t need to be a particular way as long as all parties are consenting. Sexuality and asexuality are a spectrum and fluid. Some asexual people say they never experience sexual attraction while others experience a limited amount. Some are sex repulsed, neutral, or positive. Or there are those who do not experience attraction until they form an emotional bond with someone. That’s why it’s called a spectrum,” Dr. Ubuyashiki explained. 

“You can put a label on it. Ace, grey ace, demi, pan, bi, or however else you identify is up to you because ultimately it doesn’t matter. What matters is how you perceive yourself. Labels make it convenient to communicate who you are to others, but they are not necessary,” the therapist crossed his legs. 

“I never thought it was necessary to label it because it was nonexistent,” Obanai reasoned. “Now it exists.” 

“Do you want to put a label on it?” The therapist raised one brow. Obanai sighed and leaned back on the couch. He tilted his up and stared at the white popcorn ceiling. The right side of the ceiling blurred through his gold eye. He might as well call it Mitsuri-sexual, but that would be a step too far into obsessive behavior. 

“Not particularly,” he decided and glanced over at the other man. 

“Then you don’t have to,” Dr. Ubuyashiki gave him a small smile. “Now what else is bothering you?”

Too much that his brain wanted to disassociate until the worst of it was over. Obanai couldn’t allow himself to do that. He needed to be an active participant instead of numbing himself. When he pushed aside or challenged his anxiety he made strides. The guilt and shame of his family’s fate tripped him with every step otherwise.  

His eyes wandered back towards the ceiling. What was bothering him? Navigating a relationship, looking for his biological father, taking over Nichirin, wondering if he was good enough for the position or if he was bound to let everyone down. It also begged the question of whether he was good enough for Mitsuri when she didn’t know his entire past. 

“I trust Mitsuri, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. Sweet, kind, dedicated, smart, genuine, and compassionate. She’s better than me. I want to be good or at least a better person,” he made a trail on the ceiling with his eyes. 

“How would you define a better or good person?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. It always came back to definitions and expectations. 

“Someone who cares about others, forgiving, generous, considerate… when they see someone in need they help like my brother. An honest person,” Obanai shut his eyes, “which I’m not. I haven’t told her everything about my family and their deaths.” He grimaced. “How do I bring it up? It’s not exactly small talk.”

“It’s not that you’re dishonest. You’ve never actively lied to her regarding their deaths. You’ve told other people about it. How did you tell them?”

“My brothers got bits and pieces of it while we were growing up. I told Sanemi after his father died to commiserate with him. It was the same with Tengen when he shared how his brothers died,” Obanai explained before sighing. “Mitsuri loves her family. She’s never had to deal with this type of trauma.”

“I am going to remind you that you don’t have to tell her everything all at once. You can share pieces of it,” the therapist suggested. 

“I have been,” Obanai said, irritated. “The abuse, the scars, my face, and self harm.” Dr. Ubuyashiki tilted his head. “How am I supposed to tell her small parts of this? It all rolls together. They cut my face. My bedroom door was unlocked and I ran. In the process I knocked over a candle and my mother and cousins burned alive because I decided to run,” Obanai could feel his body temperature rising. The memory of burnt wood and iron made him wrinkle his nose. They’d been over this time and time again. It’ll be fine. He reminded himself to breathe.

“I could have woken them up if I had not been so terrified,” he ran his hand through his hair. The therapist opened his mouth, but Obanai cut him off.  “I know, I am speaking in hypotheticals again which isn’t helpful,” he wasn’t sure where else to go. 

“That’s correct, but Mitsuri doesn’t seem like she’s the type of person to run from problems. From what you’ve told me she is open minded,” he set aside his notes. “Why do you think she will react any differently from the time you told her about the abuse or your scars?”

“The abuse and scars happened to me. The fire and their deaths were caused by me. Four people died because of my actions, each one with dreams, feelings, and hopes. Because of me, they never saw another sunrise,” Obanai surmised. He still had a lot to work on. 

“I could tell you not to worry, but that would be dismissing your thoughts and feelings. Obanai, trauma related anxiety has a tendency to try to convince a person they will be rejected no matter the evidence. Part of therapy is learning how to combat those thoughts, reflect, and redirect them. What evidence do you have that Mitsuri will reject you?” Dr. Ubuyashiki met his gaze and Obanai gulped. 

He could not think of a time except at the beginning of the year after he said he couldn’t be anything more with her. That had been the only time she pulled away. Most likely to save her own feelings. It was understandable. He had been so adamant they could not be anything more until he forced himself to put aside his insecurities. Looking back, she always wanted to know more about him. From the very beginning when she asked what he did for a living and his favorite color.  

“I cannot think of anything,” he responded. His therapist leaned back in his chair and waited, observing his patient. “She’s a good person and deserves a good life. I want to be with her, but I have to be better. With this baggage hanging over me, I can’t be,” Obanai looked away. “I can’t tell her I love her without ruining her life,” he whispered. Now he was spilling everything to his therapist. After he told her sleeping form of his love, it was easier to admit it to another person.

“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that you love her. You talk of barriers and baggage that keep you away from her, but at every turn she’s accepted you. It’s about time to learn how to forgive yourself. These preconceived notions hold you back, which is why we’re using EMDR to help reprocess those memories. If Mitsuri were to talk about herself the way you talk to yourself, what would you do?”

Obanai started to speak and then paused. Mitsuri was prone to calling herself a bother, odd, worried about what others thought, and overly emotional. She had even stopped picking dandelions after Sanemi made her self conscious about collecting ‘weeds’. He had told her to stop apologizing for being herself even with those qualities. If he heard her saying she was diseased, broken, filthy… 

“I would ask her to stop. I don’t like seeing her doubt herself,” Obanai admitted. 

“Then why are you doing it to yourself? I suggest treating yourself with the same compassion you would show Mitsuri or others. You defined a good person as someone who is forgiving,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said pointedly. “Learn to forgive. You can’t change what happened.”

Obanai’s mouth twisted. Begrudgingly, he nodded and bent his head. “I know,” he said quietly. “I can only change the perception.”

Gyomei: Hey, could you do me a favor? 🙏

Obanai: It depends on what it is.

Gyomei: I have the flu and I was hoping to get miso soup from Nichirin. If it’s not too much to ask, could you drop some outside of my place? I’ll pay, obviously. 

Obanai: No need. I’ll drop by before work.

Obanai knocked on his friend’s apartment door. He adjusted his face mask to cover his nose, hopefully it would help prevent an infection. There was a rustle and then the door cracked open. Two cats appeared next to the man’s feet. 

“Delivery,” Obanai greeted Gyomei. He was nearly two feet taller than the chef and it was only when he stood did Obanai notice the difference. Usually he saw Gyomei at his restaurant when he was seated. The tall man stood in light brown pajamas and held the last cat in his arms. His nose and eyes were red from the fever. There was a layer of sweat over his skin. He looked miserable. 

“Thank you so much,” Gyomei bowed his head and extended his hand for the bag of soup. 

“Do you need anything else?” Obanai asked and peered into the apartment. It looked like a mess. Between the piles of bowls and plates on the table, the blankets thrown across the couch and floor, and the cat toys everywhere. 

“No, I should be okay now,” Gyomei covered his cough and the white and red cat in his arms meowed weakly. It reminded him of Captain Sushi. 

“I can help clean up if you want. I have an hour until I have to go into work,” Obanai offered. Gyomei was easy to be around compared to other people. He was quiet and generous. Normally, he spent a lot of time volunteering for youth groups and clubs. Gyomei nodded slowly, accepting Obanai’s assistance, and took a step back to let the chef in.

Obanai walked into the apartment. It was a one bedroom place with luxury laminate floors and plastic brown countertops. Plants surrounded the window sill and there was a ladder covered in vines and plants, none of them were the same type. A particularly tall snake plant rested on the second step. 

“I haven’t been to the restaurant in a while,” Gyomei said. “Have there been any changes?” He sat down on the oversized couch, or at least oversized for Obanai. He set the soup on the counter and found a clean bowl to serve Gyomei. 

“No. It’s about the same,” Obanai replied as he set the bowl of soup down in front of his friend. “Here’s the soup,” he started throwing the cat toys in the bin under the television stand. One of the cats made it into a game and chased after the toys as he tossed them into the bin. “What’s the grey cat’s name?”

“Tai. The long haired orange tabby is Mei and the last one is Hana,” Gyomei rubbed Hana under the chin with one finger. Obanai nodded before he grabbed the blankets and started folding them. The large man started sipping on the broth and smiled warmly. 

“You are an excellent chef. Have you ever thought about opening your own place?” 

“Yes,” he admitted. Sometimes he thought about opening a small place where he would be able to fix whatever he pleased. However, the overhead cost, increased responsibilities, and other necessities made him hesitant. Most restaurants flopped after a year. Obanai was not willing to take the risk, nor did he have the funds for it. “But, being Head Chef will be more than enough. Mr. Urokodaki is retiring next month, so I’ll be taking over after that.” 

“Do you think you’re ready for it?” Gyomei asked. Obanai paused and looked over at his friend. He was steady and nonjudgmental. 

“I will be,” he said. Gyomei nodded slowly and took a bite of the soup. “My only concern is being as good as Mr. Urokodaki. He’s been with Nichirin since it opened. The staff hold him in high regard and I’m not as,” Obanai was trying to find a word to summarize his boss, “good, calm, kind, or lenient.” 

“Ah,” Gyomei set the soup down. “It’s difficult not to compare ourselves to others. I’ve found that once you stop, you have more room for yourself to grow,” he pointed towards the window where his plants were. “Each plant I have is different. They have similar needs, sun, water, soil, but none of them compare themselves to the other.”

“They’re plants, they can’t think,” Obanai said point blank and looked over at the greenery. Gyomei laughed lightly. 

“Always the critic. Each one is unique and beautiful because they strive for their own growth. The only ones they have to be better than is themselves,” the black haired man said. “When you stop comparing yourself to others, that’s when you can finally start to grow and others will come to respect you for it. You might run a tight ship and be less lenient, but that doesn’t make you lesser than Mr. Urokodaki.”

Obanai tilted his head and considered his words. He was trying not to compare himself to others as of late. However, hearing it come from Gyomei, someone he respected, made him realize the significance. It was a plain and simple concept. Be better than the person he was before. It made his goal more manageable. Granted it was easier to be better than scum- That’s not true. 

“You’re rather insightful. Where did you get that from?” Obanai stood up and brushed off his pants.

“A minor in philosophy and a lifetime of Buddhist teachings,” Gyomei propped his feet up on the couch and Hana and Tai snuggled into his lap. Obanai started collecting the plates and utensils to wash in the sink. He was better than he was yesterday by coming over to take care of his friend.  

Mitsuri: Do you want to go out with me? 😊

Obanai: It depends. What would we do?

Mitsuri: it’s a secret, but I promise you’ll like it. All you have to say is yes

Obanai: Yes. What’s the dress code?

Mitsuri: onesies!

Obanai: You’re kidding. 

Mitsuri: me? Never 😇

Mitsuri: actually semi-casual will work

Obanai: So I don’t have to wear a dinosaur onesie?

Mitsuri: 🦕 DO YOU HAVE ONE?!? YES! WEAR IT! 🦖

Obanai chuckled to himself. He could picture her typing and grinning madly. 

Obanai: No.

Mitsuri: no or not yet? 😈 

Obanai: Never. 🐍 I’d only wear a snake onesie. Kaburamaru must be honored. 

Mitsuri: Wait, serious question! If Kaburamaru wore one, would it be a onesie or a sock? 🤔 

Obanai: A onesie. He has no feet. 

Mitsuri was buzzing with excitement as she pulled up to Obanai’s yellow house. She wore a light pink loose skirt and white top with strappy white sandals.  Her hair fell in loose waves down her back. Secretly, she wanted to wear her pink cat onesie with ears, but for this outing she couldn’t. She settled for wearing a headband with small white cat ears that she bought when she got Sushi. They were goofy, but that had never bothered Obanai. He encouraged her to be eccentric with her fashion. 

She stepped out of her Beetle. Mitsuri crouched on the ground briefly to adjust her sandal strap and noticed a yellow dandelion. She took it before she stood up to straighten her skirt and walk up to his front door. It took him a second to open up. He had his mask on already. It would be too much to ask him to go without in public. He was wearing dark tight jeans, a white shirt and black jacket. Maybe they could skip what she had planned and spend the night inside- No, she already made reservations at the restaurant. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said in a flirtatious tone as she held out the flower for him. Obanai paused before taking the offering and closed his eyes slowly. 

“But, I didn’t get you anything,” he said, not missing a beat. His eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement. Her heart fluttered as they fell back into their absurd banter. 

“It’s okay, I got it on the way here,” she pointed at the stem left over in the driveway and he laughed raspily. He set the dandelion on the entryway table next to his front door. She held out her hand and he took it without hesitation before she led him to the car. They got in. 

“Are you going to tell me the plan?” Obanai asked. Mitsuri shook her head as she pulled out of the driveway.

“You’re not the only one with surprises,” she flashed him a smile. She made her way downtown. It was a weekday so there were less people around. She parked her car. They got out and she grabbed his hand, leading him over the cobblestone sidewalk. The Dojo was in a slower part of town and they were less likely to see anyone they knew. As they approached, Obanai paused when he realized where they were headed.

“Mitsuri, I don’t think this is the best idea. Not with the scars and mask,” his palms were sweating. 

“You trust me, right?” She turned to face him. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“I already planned everything ahead of time,” Mitsuri reassured him, leaning into him. Whatever was going on in his mind he was trying to work past. Dr. Ubuyashiki told her to listen and validate his feelings. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe, Oba,” she said in a lower tone and her lips brushed against his ear. Obanai swallowed, but nodded. 

Inside, the hostess took Mitsuri’s room and led them to a private room in the back. Mitsuri made the reservation with Koyuki, the Dojo’s part owner, with her husband, Akaza. When she mentioned Obanai, Koyuki was more than willing to accommodate Mitsuri’s odd requests. She asked that no wait staff enter the room while they were there, so Obanai wouldn’t have to wear the mask on their date. All the food was ordered ahead of time and Koyuki or Akaza would knock on the door when it was ready. She wondered how many people asked for this type of service. None probably. 

In the small room there was a table set up with a white table cloth and two chairs. Two tall candles rested in the middle, providing a romantic atmosphere. There were already appetizers on the table. 

Obanai sat down on the chair facing the door. She sat on the other side and was placing the napkin over her lap when she noticed the odd expression on his face. His slanted eyes locked on the candles and his brow furrowed. The mask was still on. 

“They won’t bother us. I ordered ahead of time, so when it’s done they will bring it to the door,” she explained. His gold and teal eyes reflected the fire and his pupils were pinpricks. Obanai tried to control his breathing with some effort. He pulled off the mask. The candlelight illuminated his sharp features. The raised edges of his scars cast small shadows over his face. 

“It’s not that. I don’t like candles or fire,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching. She wished she had known before requesting them. There was one lamp at the edge of the room to provide light. 

“I didn’t realize,” she said, blowing out the candles. “Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly and looked down at her empty plate. 

“You wouldn’t know,” Obanai replied, but his eyes were foggy as they watched the smoke rise towards the ceiling. Her stomach growled and she put a few of the shrimp tempura on her plate and then his. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he finally met her gaze. 

“We’ve never gone on a date, so I figured it was about time,” Mitsuri popped a shrimp into her mouth. Obanai watched her, his features softened. His pupils were regular sized again. “You’re not the only one that wants to go out on dates, give flowers, and make you laugh,” she winked at him,

“You’ve only done two of the three,” he said playfully. 

“I have the rest of the night, don’t I?” Mitsuri flirted. Obanai smiled before eating one of the shrimp tempura. 

There was a knock on the door and Mitsuri ran to get the food. She carried a tray back to the table and laid out the rolls of sushi in front of him. He had a small, mild palette compared to her, so she only ordered simple rolls for him. As for herself she could eat ten rolls without issue. For the rest of the date, they chatted about her high school and college years. She shared she was a server in high school to help her parents’ with bills and she had once tried to start a side business for her painting, but there was not enough interest. 

“I’ve always wondered. Why is your hair pink?” Obanai asked. She had been waiting for this question. Her hair was an oddity with the pink fading to lime green. Most people asked when they first met her. Surely, he got similar questions about his eyes. That might have been why he had not asked before now. Though he tried to hide it, he was a sensitive soul. 

“I had black hair when I was born,” she confessed. “When I was five I ate sakura mochi every day. Like mountains of mochi. My mother joked about getting a wheelbarrow of them every day. I think it was 170 to 180 a day for months. My father found a way to make them super cheap. The dye he used apparently unlocked a recessive gene to make my hair this color. Or at least that’s the theory,” Mitsuri explained. 

“Ah,” he reached across the table to grab a strand of her hair. “It’s beautiful either way, but this color,” he kissed the green tips and her heart melted, “fits you.” 

She needed a minute to recover as her insides were now a puddle. For someone who never dated, he was making her swoon. 

Near the end of dinner she asked him to go stargazing with her and he agreed. He put his mask on before they left and it broke a small piece of her heart. 

Before the date, Obanai looked like online guides for first dates and flirting. He had to know what would be expected of him. It gave him peace of mind. Although, Mitsuri had never been one to follow a guidebook, so he was not sure how much reading he could possibly do to prepare himself. 

She planned the date and made sure to accommodate his anxiety by reserving a private room at his friend’s restaurant. Akaza and Koyuki were not the type to gossip and didn’t not have any relation to their friends or family except they were hired for Sanemi and Kanae’s wedding. There was no way the couple would bring up Mitsuri and him visiting the restaurant in passing. 

The only time he felt ill was when they first entered the room. He saw the candles and he could not look away. The flames and smoke wafting over her delicate features. It was like a premonition and a warning to tell her about the incident. He was not about to ruin their first date with his past. Was he making excuses to not tell her just to keep her close for another day longer? No, he was going to tell her, just not now. 

“Come on,” she pulled him along by the hand towards the park. It was dark with minimal lamps. If it was possible he was falling harder for her. He had never been spontaneous, but being here with Mitsuri made him wish he was. She was willing to try anything. He admired her for it. He followed her through the park until they found a bench to sit on. 

Obanai sat next to her so their thighs touched. She looked up into the sky and she pointed out the different constellations and their myths. He was captivated. Her green eyes sparkled in the moonlight as she continued talking. Though she wanted him to look at the stars, he could only look at Mitsuri. She was the brightest out of them all. Obanai wanted to call her his. His girlfriend, partner, and lover. His everything. He put a hand on her knee, which caused her to look down finally. Her expression unguarded with her mouth parting slightly. 

“Your eye looks like the moon with the way it glows,” she pointed to his gold right eye. “The other reminds me of the ocean. They’re really pretty like one of those cats,” she meant it with all the sincerity in the world, but he could not help but laugh. 

“That’s three out of three!” She raised her fist up in the air in victory and flashed him a wide smile. He shook his head at her antics. “I win! What prize do I get?” 

“It depends. Have you been a good girl?” Obanai said into her ear as a way to tease her. She gasped and slowly turned her head. Her cheeks were a light pink and her lip trembled. “Do you like being called a good girl ?” He whispered, emphasizing the last two words. She touched her lips and shut her eyes before nodding, her face heating up. He would file that for later use. 

Obanai leaned back with a smirk. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kyojuro walking by with another man. It was hard to miss a man with yellow and red hair with piercing eyes. He scooted away from Mitsuri in the same instant. She frowned before he pointed in Kyojuro’s direction and her mouth opened in understanding. 

“Kyojuro!” Mitsuri called out raising her hand above her head. His brother’s head turned and noticed the pair. He waved off the other man before walking over. Obanai dipped his head in greeting. 

“Mitsuri! Obi!” Kyojuro greeted them. He hated when Kyojuro called him Obi. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Mitsuri. You look adorable as always. The cat ears are a nice touch.” 

“Thanks,” the pink haired woman blushed and self consciously touched the headband. “We were just stargazing since it’s a cloudless night.” Kyojuro looked up and then back down. 

“So it is. You can see Orion’s Belt from here,” he said, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “I can’t stay long. I’m still technically on duty, but we need to set up a time to hang out soon. Senjuro has been dying to see you ever since you met.” 

Obanai’s eye twitched. What was his brother trying to do? It sounded flirtatious. He knew he was being unreasonable. There was no chance Kyojuro would ever betray him. 

“Really?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Yes! We all have a soft spot for you. Wait- I have an idea. We’re celebrating my birthday next week at our father’s house, do you want to come?” Kyojuro invited her. Obanai felt his stomach drop as her green eyes widened. She looked over at him, but he couldn’t tell her what to do. 

Kyojuro’s birthday was usually separated between a party with friends and then a family affair with his brothers and their father. Was he inviting Mitsuri for Obanai’s benefit? His gaze studied his brother. 

“I’d have to check my schedule. It’s the end of the school year, so I have a lot of work to do,” Mitsuri tried to make an excuse. 

“It’s on friday, so it shouldn’t,” Kyojuro said with a grin. “It’d mean the world to Senjuro and me if you came. Obi too, of course.” Obanai’s pulse beat faster. Mitsuri set her hands in her lap and shook her head again. Kyojuro bent down on one knee as if he was going to propose. Obanai pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head at his brother’s antics. 

“Get off the ground,” he said, irritated. People were going to start staring if he didn’t get up. 

“Not unless she agrees to come,” Kyojuro maintained eye contact with Mitsuri. Now, people were staring at the group of three. He hated this and needed it to end. He was starting to sweat even in the cool night air. 

“She can do as she pleases,” Obanai retorted. He didn’t want her to feel forced into doing anything. 

“Stop flirting, Rengoku!” The fellow firefighter yelled out. Kyojuro didn’t respond to that and stared at Mitsuri with his owl-like gaze. If he didn’t know him better, he would assume his brother was flirting with her. Jealousy licked at his insides involuntarily.  

“I’ll come if I don’t have anything on my schedule,” Mitsuri finally answered as she shifted in her seat. 

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive,” Kyojuro barked at a laugh before standing up and lifting Mitsuri off the bench in an embrace. His nostrils flared with the sudden outburst of affection. His brother spun her around like she weighed nothing. She looked over his shoulder at Obanai, giving him an apologetic smile. 

“Don’t worry about a gift, your presence will be enough,” Kyojuro beamed as he set her down on the ground. Mitsuri folded her arms in front of her. 

“Obanai can give you the details or he can pick you up for the party,” he winked at the raven haired man. Kyojuro practically skipped away back to his fellow firefighter. They disappeared as quickly as they came. Mitsuri looked back at Obanai and scratched her elbow.  

“If you don’t want me to come, I won’t,” she said quickly. Her words made him swallow. His heart pounded and he was ready to tell her not to come, yet something stopped him. He could feel the pull of his past self trying to avoid new and awkward situations, but there was a new sensation pulling him in the opposite direction. The one that wanted to experience new things with Mitsuri. Obanai wanted her to meet the man who raised him and informed his youth. He was also curious how Shinjuro would perceive her. She was going to meet Shinjuro eventually if they kept seeing each other. 

“No, I’d like you there,” Obanai found himself saying. Her whole body turned towards him, her eyes gleaming. 

“Really? I don’t want to impose or bother your family,” Mitsuri tried to give him an out. “Meeting your dad is sort of-” He grabbed her hand. His thumb grazed over her wrist. He wanted her for as long as she would have him whether it was a few weeks or a lifetime. This kind, beautiful woman who made him feel normal and accepted him. His heart stuttered at the thought. A lifetime? 

He had never been one to think of forever or lifetimes. Most of his friendships were from high school or early college, but he never thought of them in terms of forever. Like with everything else Mitsuri was the exception. She gave him a semblance of hope in her brilliant light. 

“Yes, really, Mitsuri. You’re never a bother, not to me,” he looked at her lips remembering their plush, velvet feel. Obanai wished there were no other people around, so he could kiss her properly. Instead he brought her hand to his face and pressed her fingers over his mask. 

Chapter Text

Early May to Late May

Kyojuro: You can thank me later for inviting Mitsuri. 

Obanai: I could…Or not. 

Kyojuro: You will. With me as your wingman, you and her will be dating in no time. 

Obanai: Or it could do the opposite. 

Kyojuro: Not a chance. Not with my charm and your wit. 

Obanai: Let it go. 

Kyojuro: It’s me or Tengen. Who would you prefer to be your wingman? 

Obanai: Wait, did he ask you to do it? 

Kyojuro: Not in so many words, but yes. 

Obanai: Neither. 

Kyojuro:  You wound me. 😞

Obanai: Sorry, I know you’re trying to help

Kyojuro: Apology accepted, little brother!

Obanai: I’m older than you. 

Kyojuro: I never said older, I said ‘little’ 😋

He was tempted to text back that he hated Kyojuro, but he had to curtail the impulse. Kyojuro was trying to help in his own obnoxious way. Obanai bent his head and rubbed his temples at Kyojuro’s antics. It was becoming bothersome to keep them a secret. Between Kyojuro, Tengen, and other friends scheming it made more sense to come clean. It was the logical step, yet he hesitated. 

He was not ready to tell her about the incident. He was still coming to terms with his involvement in their deaths. Obanai had blamed himself for 16 years for the fire, it would take more than a few months to mollify the guilt and shame. He was a child when it happened. A terrified child who had been abused the majority of his life, it was natural to run at the first chance. What happened was a terrible misfortune, but there was nothing that could be changed. The most he could do was make amends with his surviving cousin, Kiwa. 

Obanai tapped his fingers against his thigh. He finally Googled her and found out she was a social worker. It was ironic she served as a civil servant advocating for the downtrodden and abused. His head pounded thinking of her role in his abuse. She had held his arms down when his mother cut into his face and then turned around to help clean and bandage him afterwards. There was also a marriage announcement showing she changed her name to Kiwa Genji. She shed her last name as easily as sweeping it, her sisters, and aunt under the soot and rubble of their family house. He would be the last Iguro. 

Bitterness clawed inside his ribcage. He wished he could move on as easily as her, but she didn’t share the guilt or carry the physical reminders. Sighing, he whispered three grey items in his living room to prevent the spiral. She was lucky to move on from their childhood and worked to help others now in similar circumstances. Obanai vilified her for years. It was time to forgive, so he could live his own life instead of being tied down to the past and its misery. 

Mitsuri spent most the week bombarded by parents. They asked what else their children could do to improve their grades. It was the second to last week of school. She had given students multiple opportunities throughout the year for extra credit. Mitsuri frowned at yet another email she got from a very persistent mother. It was the first grade. There was too much emphasis placed on children’s scores. They would discover their strengths in due time. 

At least her work distracted her from ruminating about dinner with the Rengokus this Friday. She knew Kyojuro and Senjuro, but meeting Shinjuro was nerve wracking. When she thought too much about it, she picked at her nails and cuticles. Shinjuro adopted and accepted Obanai as his son unconditionally when he was 12. She wanted to thank him for everything he did for Obanai. Would that be overstepping? 

From what Obanai said he was a gruff individual, but like his sons he was generous and attentive. She wanted to make sure she made a good impression. When she met Senjuro at the grocery store she had made a fool of herself. Even her brother mocked her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t do the same with Obanai’s father. 

Part of her was still concerned Obanai didn’t want her to come to Kyojuro’s birthday party. He had never lied to her, but she didn’t want to be a burden. Obanai told her he wanted her there to meet his family. This was another step into relationship territory. Maybe she was putting too much pressure on meeting Shinjuro. Surely, Obanai introduced his other friends to his father and it didn’t have to be a big deal. 

Except she wasn’t just a friend. They were wading through the murky water bordering on a relationship. Between the date, late night talks, and growing intimacy, she could feel their bond tighten. He said he would tell her about his past, but to give him time. They had been together for a little over a month. She had to be patient. 

What else happened with him and his family? They cut open his face, impaired his vision, threw him down the stairs, broke his arm and ribs, locked him in his bedroom every day and never let him outside- Or nearly never. They left him with superficial scars and deeper ones. Mitsuri tried to see the good in people, but she couldn’t find any in his family. Obanai never mentioned where they were now, but she hoped they were in jail or so far away she would never encounter them. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she ever did meet them and that scared her more than anything. 

Obanai: Here.

Obanai adjusted his mask as he waited outside of Mitsuri’s house. The flowers in the front yard were finally blooming. A mixture of pink and purple irises, lavender, and yellow daisies covered the front garden. She had sent him pictures earlier this week when the first flower opened its petals. He saw Mitsuri locking the front door when he looked up. Beautiful as ever. 

Mitsuri wore a mauve circle skirt with a light pink t-shirt and white flats covered in cherries. Her earrings looked like cherry flavored lollipops. In her arms were two containers of cookies. She got into the passenger seat and smiled shyly, “It’s not too much is it?” Self consciously, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “The earrings are a nice touch.” 

“Thanks,” she said and leaned over the console to kiss his masked cheek. His face reddened. When was he ever going to stop getting embarrassed with her simple acts of kindness? 

“I made seven spice and green matcha cookies. I’d feel guilty if I showed up empty handed,” she added. Mitsuri fiddled with her earrings in the car, asking whether or not Shinjuro would like her and if there was any topic to avoid. 

“He’ll like you because I do,” he attempted to reassure her. He caught her expression and he could have swore he saw her lip tremble. “He can be sensitive about Ruka, his wife, but he’s been better about talking about her. I never met her, but growing up he would leave the room if he heard her name.” 

“He must have loved her quite a bit,” she commented. Obanai nodded and parked his Jeep behind Kyojuro’s red Honda Civic. 

Obanai pulled Kyojuro’s gift out of the side door. Four tickets for the noh play, Tomoe, coming this summer. He walked up to the front door with Mitsuri. She tried to hide her anxiety, but he could see it in the way she stacked and restacked the two cookie containers. 

Shinjuro opened the red door. He pulled his hair back where it was clear to see where his yellow and red hair was greying at his temples. Obanai took off his mask, thankful everyone here had seen his scars. Come summer the mask would be stifling and itchy. Shinjuro’s gaze went from Obanai’s naked face to Mitsuri, maintaining a neutral face. She set the cookies on the small side table before removing her flats. 

“Mitsuri, this is Rengoku Shinjuro,” the chef introduced them. “Father, this is Kanroji Mitsuri,” he failed to give her a moniker. He was not about to call her ‘a friend’, but couldn’t call her anything more. Mitsuri’s face flushed as she shook his father’s hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally put a face to a name,” Shinjuro said. “All my boys speak fondly of you.” 

“I could say the same about them. Obanai respects you so much, so I’m glad we could meet,” Mitsuri let go of his hand. There was a raucous in the kitchen that made her jump up. It was the clash of pots and pans being shuffled around. 

“Kyojuro wanted to start cooking,” Shinjuro answered. Kyojuro might have been another year older but he still could not cook to save himself. Obanai narrowed his gaze towards the kitchen. “He insisted on it,” Shinjuro added, crossing his arms. Obanai set down the gift and looked over at Mitsuri. 

“I’ll go check the damage,” he said and headed down the hall. When he walked in there was a pot of water and sweet potatoes boiling over the sides. He wrinkled his nose at the burnt scent. Kyojuro was busy rustling through a bottom cabinet for a pan. Obanai rushed over to the stove, turned off the burner, and set the pot to the side. How did Kyojuro not notice it? 

“Obanai!” Kyojuro looked up with the brightest smile and stood up. He embraced his brother in a hug. Obanai let his body go limp and begrudgingly accepted it as he patted his back. It was his brother’s birthday after all. 

“Happy birthday,” the dark haired man said. Irritation prickled at the back of his neck. “Aren’t you a firefighter? How did you not smell that?” He asked. Kyojuro let go and turned to look at the electric stove where there was a fine line of smoke rising from the glass stove top. 

“When you work in the business for long enough, you lose your sense of smell,” Kyojuro laughed it off. Obanai sighed and pulled back his hair into a ponytail. He had volunteered to cook dinner tonight as part of his gift for Kyojuro. Grilled salt bream, roasted sweet potatoes with miso sauce, eggplant dengaku, and jasmine rice. The rice cooker was on the counter top and was already in the process of cooking jasmine rice based on the smell. 

Mitsuri caught his attention. She smiled politely from the archway watching the pair with the cookies in her arms. On her left side, Shinjuro towered over her. Kyojuro looked at Obanai’s unmasked face and then back at Mitsuri before a look of realization spread over his face. His red-yellow eyes gleamed as he grinned. 

“You came!” Kyojuro was already moving towards her and hugged her. “What did you make?” He asked loudly, taking the containers. Mitsuri explained while Obanai turned his attention to the stove. 

The pot of potatoes and water was steaming now. At least Kyojuro had remembered to boil them before throwing them in the oven to roast. Obanai washed his hands and took over the cooking preparations while Shinjuro bypassed Mitsuri and his son to assist. Kyojuro had opened the containers Mitsuri bought and started eating.

“Tasty,” Kyojuro exclaimed between bites of seven spice and matcha. Separately they would be delicious, but their flavors were at odds if eaten together. Obanai shook his head and made eye contact with Mitsuri. He mouthed, Tasty, to mock his brother and she snorted. He smiled before he started cleaning the bream. 

“What can I help you with?” Kyojuro shifted his attention to the chef. 

“It’s your birthday, you don’t have to help,” Obanai said, removing the scales from the last bream. 

“I want to,” he said firmly. His dual colored eyes found Mitsuri who was standing beside the island. Her fingers touching her lips and looking between the three men. 

“I’ll go wait elsewhere. It’s crowded in here and I don’t want to interfere with anything,” Mitsuri said, waving her hand over the area, and started to step back. 

“You’re not,” Obanai reassured her. Her mouth twisted and he could tell she was uncomfortable. He clenched his fist. Maybe it would have been better if he told her not to come and introduced her to his father at a later date. When there was less going on and less chaotic. 

“I think I heard Senjuro come down a second ago,” Shinjuro spoke up. “He’s probably in the living room if you want to join him.” Mitsuri nodded, thankful for his suggestion, and left the kitchen to find his younger brother. 

As soon as she was out of sight, Kyojuro raised his eyebrows and put his hands over Obanai’s shoulders. “You showed her your scars,” he shook Obanai, unable to contain his excitement. Abrasive as always. “When? How? Why?” Kyojuro whispered. Even his whispers were just below normal speaking volumes. Obanai stiffened.

Obanai did not trust most people to see him without a mask. All of the people he trusted were men besides her. Mitsuri was the first woman Obanai trusted with his scarred face. Secretly, he liked when she touched his facial scars, her warm hands embracing him. It reassured him that she had not run. It dared him to hope she wouldn’t flee. 

“Back in February,” he glanced over at Shinjuro who was assessing his sons. “I went to her place after I met my biological father,” his mouth twitched with his father and brother staring at him. “It just seemed right to show her,” he admitted. He hadn’t told Shinjuro a lot about Mitsuri, but his father nodded solemnly. Kyojuro’s mouth opened wide and put both hands on his marred face, forcing him to stare into his piercing red-yellow eyes. 

“You have to ask her out,” Kyojuro said, his voice lowered, “If you don’t, I will do it for you.” His fiery gaze burned straight down to his soul. Obanai’s whole body tensed. He didn’t want to lie to his family. 

“Kyojuro,” Shinjuro said in a warning tone. It was closer to a growl than actual words. The chef was grateful for the reprieve. “Leave Obanai alone.” Kyojuro looked at him for a second longer before dropping his hands. His shoulders slumped for a second before perking up again. The firefighter was never disheartened for long. 

“Alright. What can I do to help?” Kyojuro asked instead. Obanai directed him on how to cut the eggplant for dengaku. 

Senjuro was sitting on the couch reading a book while the rest of the family was cooking dinner. Kyojuro was talking loudly and Shinjuro was trying to keep the peace between the shadow and the sun. This was only her second time meeting the youngest Rengoku. 

“Can I join you?” Mitsuri asked as she stepped into the living room. The younger man nodded once with a closed mouth smile. She sat down next to him and smoothed out her skirt. “Oba mentioned you’re going to school for nursing. How is it going?” 

“Oba?” He repeated the nickname as a question. Her heart sped up. She didn’t normally refer to him as Oba in front of others. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t like to be called Obi, so I started calling him Oba,” Mitsuri played with her earrings. 

“Yeah, dad is the only one who gets to call him Obi,” he nodded in understanding. “I just finished finals last week,” he answered her question and crossed his legs. “I’ll have the summer off and then I start my junior year. That’s when I have clinicals and start treating real patients.”

“That’s exciting. When I did my student teaching, which I guess would be the equivalent to clinicals, I loved it so much. Seeing a kid get a lesson is one of the best feelings in the world. I remember one time I was tutoring a sixth grader afterschool who was struggling with history, so we made up a song to learn about the Chinese dynasties and the rulers. His whole face lit up and I caught him mouthing the song during the test,” Mitsuri explained. 

“I was nervous on my first day and tried to over complicate my lesson plans with too much info. I’d only get through half of the lesson and then the class would be derailed by a question or comment. If I’m talking too much, you can tell me to stop.” Her rambling was a consequence of her unease. 

“No, I actually appreciate it. I’m quiet, so Kyojuro or others tend to make up for me. Umm, how did you get over your nerves?” Senjuro asked sheepishly. 

“Practice. Even now I get nervous when I try something new, but I also know if I don’t try I can’t grow, you know?” Mitsuri readjusted her seat on the couch to face him. Senjuro nodded and stared at the ground. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We did a few observations this semester and my preceptor would ask me questions that I couldn’t answer quickly enough about CHF. Sorry, congestive heart failure. I barely passed my pharmacology class with an 85 percent. I have to remember so much and it’s overwhelming.” His red-yellow eyes flickered down to the floor. 

“I don’t blame you. I can’t even pronounce some of the medications names without struggling,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “School is usually worse than the job. They set impossibly high standards, but once you have a degree and license the grades won’t matter,” she smiled at him. “None of my students or parents ever asked for my school grades. I doubt your patients will. If they do, send them my way,” She held up her fist in front of her chest. 

Senjuro smiled back at her, this time showing his teeth. “I can see why my brothers like you. You’re funny, Mitsuri,” he chuckled. She asked him more about his college life. The more he spoke, the more he seemed to loosen his posture. She learned he volunteered with the homeless and bought hand warmers whenever he went to the store to pass out during the winter. She had been right to call him a cinnamon roll. 

Obanai was leaning against the wall in the hallway, watching his youngest brother and Mitsuri. Normally, Senjuro was quiet until he got to know someone well, but he was talking animatedly. Senjuro even gave her a smile where he showed his crooked teeth, something he was incredibly self conscious about. He set his head against the wall, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. 

Senjuro seemed to be enjoying himself. Mitsuri covered her mouth with her hand trying to stop herself from laughing. She bent her head down and turned to look at the hall where Obanai stood. Her green eyes softened when they found him. 

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, pushing off the wall. “The sweet potatoes may be over cooked.” 

“So, you’re saying we could make them into mashed sweet potatoes? Even better,” Mitsuri jumped off the couch. His facial scars pulled on his cheeks as he saw her grab his brother’s hand. Senjuro shot him an approving look as Mitsuri led him to the dining room. She had a way of making people feel at ease. 

Mitsuri carved a place for herself wherever she went. She could make anyone open up. She had made friends with him after all. The weird, anxiety ridden man with a dry, dark sense of humor. He fell in love because she was simply herself. Her light filtering through the edges of his mind, breaking through the lattice cage he crafted. He followed them to the dining room. Shinjuro sat at the head of the table. Senjuro and Kyojuro on one side and Mitsuri on the other. Obanai took the chair next to her.

Conversation seemed to flow easily between the five of them. Kyojuro opened his gifts including the noh play tickets, a 24 pack of his favorite ramen, and a book on Edo period Japan. Kyojuro and Mitsuri talked the most with Shinjuro watching his sons and the woman. Every once in a while Obanai caught Shinjuro looking between him and Mitsuri with a soft smile. His ears tinted pink with that knowing look. 

“You should have seen Obanai in high school during his full goth phase,” Kyojuro smirked at his brother. Obanai shook his head recalling his high school years. He had been trying to find himself and he was drawn to the dark aesthetic, music, poetry, and literature. 

“Full goth phase?” Mitsuri questioned, tilting her head towards Obanai. “What percentage of goth are you now?” She teased, green eyes shining. 

“Twenty-five? It mostly comes down to the black and white wardrobe,” Obanai said, not missing a beat as he turned to her. Even tonight he had on an ebony jacket with dark pants and black high top converse shoes. The only color on them were the splattered food stains from work. 

“Hey, you have one navy blue sweater,” Mitsuri reminded him. “So, maybe twenty-two point five percent?” Her genuine smile made his heart flutter. 

“Hmm,” Kyojuro mumbled, watching the pair. “Compared to high school, one blue sweater is an improvement. He used to wear exclusively black including eyeliner and nails during our sophomore and junior year. Oh, and he had those chains and leather studded belts. He was very edgy,” Kyojuro continued. Obanai shut his mouth knowing he would snap at Kyojuro if he spoke. Senjuro tried to hide his smile behind a napkin. 

“There was a month in high school when I tried to be goth. I just read Jane Eyre and thought it would be cool. I had this cute leather skirt, choker necklace, and lacy gloves, but the pink hair ruined the look,” she pointed at her hair. 

Obanai swallowed. He would like to see her dressed up like that now for reasons he could not explain. With her green thigh high stockings. He stared down at his plate of food and forced himself to take a bite. 

Kyojuro leaned back in his chair and placed his hand under his chin before nodding. He stared at her intensely, squinting his red-yellow eyes. 

“I can see it. Dad, you moved all the yearbooks upstairs, right?” Kyojuro asked, turning his head. 

“In the attic with the rest of your old stuff,” Shinjuro offered. Kyojuro slapped his hands on the table and pushed his chair back, nearly throwing it back.

“If I don’t return, Senjuro gets my house,” he jogged out of the room and up the stairs in search of the photos. 

“He’s never been one to do half measures,” Senjuro said in his quiet way. He shifted in his seat. “So do you and your siblings get along?” 

“Most of the time. There’s six of us. Three girls and three boys, so it could be chaotic in our house,” Mitsuri explained. “We had a lot of fun times growing up. There was one time when I was 11 I really wanted to go to a baseball game, but my parents couldn’t get tickets. Instead they set up seats in front of the TV. Before the game they gave us fake tickets and led us to our seats. During the commercials my mom would carry a tray of hot dogs, popcorn, and soda out and we would pay with the tickets they gave us,” her face flushed. 

“It’s one of my favorite memories. After the game I took the tickets and made them into origami, so I could keep them forever,” she added. “That’s embarrassing, sorry.” 

He remembered seeing the paper cranes and other creatures on her tv stand the first time he went to her place. Back when he thought they’d only be friends. Now she was sitting here with his family laughing and talking as if she had known them for ages. 

“There’s no need to apologize,” Obanai put his hand over her bare knee. Her skin was smooth to the touch. He wished she would stop apologizing. She had been better about it when they were alone, but around others it was different. Mitsuri apologized most when she thought she was annoying others. 

“That’s adorable,” Senjuro took a few bites of the eggplant dengaku. Mitsuri looked away briefly. “Mom used to-“ the youngest Rengoku glanced over at their father, seeking permission. 

“It’s okay,” Shinjuro said looking at Senjuro and then Mitsuri. “Ruka enjoyed making origami with Kyo and Senjuro,” Shinjuro explained. “She would have Senjuro sit in her lap while she showed Kyo how to make cranes, ravens, and owls. They were both obsessed with birds.” 

“Aww, Senjuro, you must have been the cutest little kid,” Mitsuri complimented him. Obanai smirked seeing Senjuro’s face turn bright red and stare down at his plate. He knew exactly how Mitsuri’s complements affected him. 

“N-not really,” he stammered and suddenly found the food on his plate very interesting. Obanai understood Senjuro’s shyness. He still lost his ability to speak around Mitsuri. 

“It sounds like you and your family are close,” Shinjuro commented, shifting the attention to the head of the table.

“We are. When you grow up in a three bedroom house and eight people you have no choice,” Mitsuri said. “I’m going to be visiting them for my birthday next month.”

Obanai tried not to wince, but his hand grasped her knee. He should have asked her when it was. She took him to the reptile sanctuary for his birthday when they hardly knew each other. Crap, he should have asked. Then he could plan something for her and celebrate her. What sort of partner was he going to be if he didn’t even know her birthday? No, that was a slippery slope. Mitsuri placed her hand over his under the oak table, intertwining their fingers. 

“Happy early birthday,” Shinjuro and Senjuro said together.

“Thanks! It’s June first,” she glanced over at his father and brother. Before he could speak, there was bang upstairs. Mitsuri’s panicked eyes widened as they shifted up. Kyojuro had to be throwing boxes around upstairs to be that loud. 

“Should we go check on him?” Mitsuri asked, looking between Obanai and Shinjuro. The older man shrugged and continued eating. Mitsuri’s eyes were still wide and kept glancing up. He let go of her hand. 

“Come on,” Obanai suggested, knowing she wouldn’t go alone. He stood up and led Mitsuri upstairs. On the second floor, there was a ladder leaning against an opening in the ceiling leading to the attic. There was a box on the ground with their school’s name on top of it. 

“Are you okay?” Mitsuri peered up, looking for the firefighter. Kyojuro peeked into view at the top of the ladder for a moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? I found more than I thought I would,” he held up a plain brown paper package and shook it. “Guess what it is?”

Obanai squinted at the package before he recognized Kyojuro’s bold handwriting. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he shook his head with a small chuckle. Mitsuri looked at him in question. “It’s his old costume. The one he made for Flame Boy,” he explained. Her mouth opened in understanding. 

“Is Flame Boy going to make an appearance?” Mitsuri grinned as she stared up at his brother. Kyojuro’s eyes blazed. His body seemed to vibrate with excitement. 

“I knew I liked you! I think I can still squeeze into it!” He hurried down the ladder and went to his old bedroom. “I’ll be out in just a minute!” Kyojuro said and shut the door. Mitsuri and Obanai were finally alone. 

“So, where’s your room?” She asked. He took her hand and led her to the other end of the house. He opened his old bedroom door with a creak. The door never shut all the way, leaving just a crack. Shinjuro kept saying he’d fix it. 

Not much had changed since he moved out a few years ago except for the layer of dust on the dresser, bookcase, and nightstand. Mitsuri let go of his hand as her gaze traveled around the room, taking in the relics. He never had people in his room except for Sanemi and his family. 

“There’s not much here,” Obanai said and went to sit down on his twin bed. The dark comforter was stiff and cold from not being used in years. On the wooden floor there was a dark green rug to cover the blood stain from his suicide attempt when he first came here. If he flipped over the rug, she would see it too. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet and not today. He put his foot over the spot and pressed down. It was the past. 

Mitsuri walked around the room. Her green eyes took in the old band posters, the poetry books, and Kaburamaru’s old glass enclosure resting atop of the short bookcase. Her hand ran over the spines of his old books and mouthed the titles. 

“You read Jane Eyre ?” She asked. 

“Some of it,” he answered.

From spoilers, he knew part of the plot involved a house fire that killed Mr. Rochester’s wife and blinded Mr. Rochester. He wasn’t the most sympathetic male lead either. Considering that, it didn’t elicit the best memories for him. It was part of a literature class. He never finished the novel and asked for an alternative assignment. 

“You didn’t like it?” 

“Not particularly. I didn’t care for Mr. Rochester,” he said, omitting the other half of his reason. 

“Most people don’t,” Mitsuri commented. “He was prideful and self-serving. At first Jane doesn’t care for him, but learns more about him throughout the novel. She’s drawn to his vulnerability,” she pulled out the novel and flipped through the pages. 

“But the main focus of the novel is Jane’s journey as she strives to find her place in Victorian society. I love it,” she set the book down, her fingertips running over the cover. “I’ve read it so often, my copy is falling apart.” 

“You can have mine,” he said. “If you want.” She agreed and set the book on top of the dresser before looking over the off-white walls. 

“I used to listen to them,” she said pointing at one of the posters. He turned to see it was Sum41. “Only because Avril Lavigne dated one of the band members though,” she admitted. “Back when I tried to be goth.” 

“In high school, they were one of my favorites. I don’t listen to them anymore,” he said. 

“Back when you were ‘super edgy’?” Mitsuri flashed him a teasing smile and used finger quotes to emphasize her point. 

“I believe Kyojuro said ‘very edgy’. Don’t confuse the two,” Obanai shot back and made his way towards her. This was normal for a 28 year old man. To bring the woman he loved to see his old room and meet his family, even if they were weird. Like Kyojuro said, Obanai was weird, but so was everyone else. “I like having you here,” he admitted softly, “with everyone.” 

“They’re so much fun. I know Kyojuro gets on your nerves, but you all care so much for each other,” Mitsuri said. “I can see where you get your observant, quiet nature from,” she commented. 

“What do you mean?”

“Shinjuro is like that. Quietly observing others before speaking,” she said absentmindedly. “It’s one of the things I like about you.” Her face tinted pink and she looked away again. Obanai pulled her into his arms to hug her from behind. It was getting easier for him to hold her like this without asking for permission or feeling guilty. Or the idea that he would taint her. She shone brighter than any darkness he had. 

“I like you too,” he whispered in her ear. He leaned his head against her neck. To be holding her like this used to be indulgent, but in the last month he noticed how much he craved to touch her and to be touched.

I love you. The words on the tip of his tongue. He still had to work on himself, but every day he was closer to telling her. And every day he fell harder. 

Her arms went over his and she leaned her head into his. She didn’t speak. Maybe she craved to be touched as much as him. They swayed on their feet. The vents blew cool air into the room. Her perfume was faint after a long day. The vanilla notes were stronger. What he thought could only be a fantasy was becoming real. Why couldn’t they spend every day like this? 

There was still a line between him and her. He told her before that she needed to know his entire past if they wanted to be more than what they were now. Or was he just making another excuse to separate them? To prevent her from getting any closer because he was scared of what could happen? 

A small voice told him he was still unworthy of her time and affection. It grew quieter the longer they were together. The shoe had not dropped. Maybe he could hope it never did. Unless telling her about his part in his birth family’s demise ended up being the other shoe dropping? 

He felt as if bugs crawled over his back and his body tensed. He worried she would flee that instant. The expectation for everything to fall apart. It was inevitable. Except the intrusive thoughts had been wrong consistently. It was not inevitable. His cousin had moved on from the incident, why couldn't he? A glimmer of hope rested in the back of his mind. The possibility she could be happy with him . His mind grew still. He held her tighter and kissed her shoulder blade. 

“Obi! Mitsuri!” Kyojuro cried out and threw open the bedroom door. Obanai dropped his arms and jumped away from Mitsuri. The moment ruined. There was a ghost of a shadow in her eyes as she turned to face Obanai. Her hand lifted as if to call him back to her. 

“It still fits,” Kyojuro had both hands on his hips. Obanai turned to see his brother in his old Flame Boy costume. The black button up shirt with a white haori over it. Red and yellow flames over the haori’s hemline. He tried not to say something mean. The costume was stretched out over Kyojuro’s chest. The man had become broader since high school and it just barely fit. If Kyojuro flexed the wrong way, he’d break the stitching. 

“Flame Boy!” Mitsuri laughed, turning her attention to the flamboyant man. He bowed in front of her and drew the haori around him like a cape. 

They went back downstairs and spent the rest of the night with his family. He sat through Kyojuro showing Mitsuri their high school yearbooks. Kyojuro showed off his drama club and photos from the plays he had been in. There were only two images of Obanai in goth attire. 

The first photo showed him with super short hair. A week before the photo was taken he cut his hair after smoking a joint with Sanemi. Mistakes were made and he learned never to cut his hair that short again. In the image, Kyojuro was pulling him into a side hug while Obanai glared at him with unspoken disgust. 

“Your face still looks like when I hug you,” Kyojuro teased. 

“It’s tradition at this point,” Obanai shrugged, the corners of his lips upturned. Mitsuri watched the two of them with undisguised amusement at the shadow and the sun. 

The other photo had him and Sanemi sitting by a water fountain. Obanai had the black eyeliner, bandages covering his face, black hoodie, leather studded belt, and a chain hanging from his pocket. Mitsuri had a hard time not laughing at the old pictures and he found himself unable to look away from her. Her light and laughter warmed him. Even if it was at his expense. 

It was close to 10 P.M. and he had to work the lunch shift tomorrow. They said their goodbyes before Kyojuro pulled everyone except Shinjuro into a hug. 

Mitsuri and him got into the car. As they pulled out of the driveway, Mitsuri reached out for his hand. He didn’t want to say good night to her. He would be awake for hours even if he dropped her off at her house. He bit his lip as he pulled onto the highway. 

“Do you want to stay over?” he asked, glancing over at her. She was looking out the window at the city lights. 

“Tonight? I wouldn’t want to intrude or keep you up since you have work tomorrow,” Mitsuri touched her earrings. 

“You wouldn’t be,” he answered. “I’ll be up until 3 at least. I can drive you back in the morning.” She nodded, then a smile spread over her face.

When Obanai asked her to come back to his place, Mitsuri decided to take her chance. Since the hot springs trip, they’d only been intimate one other time. She told him about the birth control implant in her arm, so they could forgo condoms. Between the last few weeks of school and his promotion, she had been too exhausted. 

Now they were kissing on the couch. Mitsuri was straddling him after removing her top and bra, lost somewhere on the floor. In her defense, Obanai pulled off his shirt first. His mouth against her neck, sucking gently. It was her weakness. What was his weakness? He liked when she was loud, that much she knew. Would he like being teased? 

She swept his hair over his shoulder as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Would you like to see me dressed up? I could wear black fishnet stockings,” Mitsuri felt him tremble under her and stop sucking her neck. Her knees were on either side of him as she tilted her hips forward. One of his hands went under her skirt, inching up her thigh. She sighed in his ear. 

“What if I wore a black pleated skirt?” She felt him begin to harden beneath her and she smirked. She had seen the way he looked when she mentioned dressing as a goth at dinner. 

“You’re teasing me,” Obanai whispered. 

“You seem to like it,” she gyrated her hips which made him grit his teeth. Only a few layers of fabric separating them. “A dark corset and a choker necklace,” she paused. Mitsuri took his other hand and held it over her neck, his thumb right over her pulse. 

“Black eyeliner, nail polish, and thick mascara. Maybe I’d dye my hair black just to drive you wild,” she finished. Gently, he pulled her head back so he could see her face. 

“No, I like your hair as it is,” he said possessively. Goosebumps ran up her arms. His hand moved from her throat to cradle the nape of her neck. 

Mitsuri leaned forward again so their faces were nearly touching. Their breaths were shared. Whenever they were this close she tried not to look at his scars too intensely. He was still self conscious about them. The lights were dimmed. He tried to be subtle, but she knew he still wasn’t completely at ease with her. She hoped in a few more months he would be. Give it time. 

Either way he was handsome with his scars. He just didn’t see it yet. He deserved to feel attractive in his own skin. She was not sure how to show him, but she would. He told her she was gorgeous and when they were like this he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. 

He pushed her hip down and started grinding his length against her. She squeezed her thighs and tried to meet his pace. Their eyes met. Green on gold and teal. His gaze was hazy. Their lips touched and his tongue traced her bottom lip. She opened her mouth slightly allowing him entry. 

She placed one hand on the back of the couch for support and the other caressed his neck as they kissed. His hardening cock proved her teasing worked. She gyrated her hips and he groaned into her mouth.

“Keep doing that,” he breathed. Mitsuri slowed her pace and she grinned watching him close his eyes enjoying the sensation of her grinding against him. His shoulders relaxed and she could feel him against her clit with each rotation of her hips. 

With both hands, he pulled her hips up so his face pressed against her stomach. She sucked in her belly, self conscious of the pouch. Her ex had pinched her stomach rolls and told her to be slimmer. Who wants a woman who doesn't take care of herself? 

“Relax,” he said, sensing her anxious thoughts. Obanai looked up at her. His gaze steadied her, bringing her back into the moment. Back into him. Into them. His lips left featherlight kisses over her abdomen as she eased the tension she’d been holding onto. He unzipped her skirt and tossed it to the floor. 

“You’re not the only one who can tease, Mitsuri,” he whispered. She shivered. She knew it all too well. He ran his hand down her side. Everywhere he touched licks of fire spread over her skin. He hooked his thumb under her waistband and pulled her underwear down her hips and to her knees. He glanced down and saw her arousal evidenced by the wet spot on her panties. He kneaded her sides. 

“Such a sweet girl. Does kissing make you this wet?” He asked, looking up at her. It was more than kissing. She felt a blush creep over her cheeks and surely the rest of her body. Pleasure pooled in her center as he laid light kisses just below her navel. She grabbed hold of the couch backrest before she nodded ashamed of her body reacting immediately to his words. 

“What else would you like?” He lowered his hand from her side to her center, hovering over her most sensitive part. She bit her lip and pushed into his hand. The sensation of his calloused fingers trailing over her folds, just a finger length from her clit, made her groan. The lightest touch was the worst. It was the anticipation that made her weak.

“Is this what you want?” Obanai asked with a grin. He used one finger to trace her folds again. Using the lightest possible pressure just to toy with her. She adored him, but she hated the way he teased. She had wanted to flip the cards on him tonight. It hadn’t worked.

“Yes,” she murmured. 

His other hand was working on removing her underwear completely where she had to lift her knee off the couch for a moment and then take them all the way off. He tossed them to the side. She would worry about finding them later. 

“Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he breathed against her stomach, looking up at her with his slanted eyes. With his finger dragging over her lower lips, it was the only thing she could focus on.

“Touch me here,” she moved his hand over her clit. “Please.”

He smirked, “Was it that hard? You’re such a good girl.” Her breath hitched when his palm rubbed against her swollen clit, sending waves of pleasure through her. He used small, slow circles. She had to prevent herself from squirming on top of him with little success. Mitsuri moaned loudly as his fingers dug into her hip bone to keep her in place. 

“When you’re moaning above me, you couldn’t look any prettier,” he told her with a low voice. One of his long fingers dipped into her. 

“Oba,” she hissed as the pressure built inside of her. He slid in and out of her without resistance. He added another finger, stretching her out. Obanai rotated his wrist and his fingers brushed against the rough anterior wall that made her thighs shake. She tried to sit down on his fingers, but his other hand held her in place. 

“Not yet, my girl,” he said and a shiver ran over her whole body. 

My girl. 

Her cheeks flushed. The possessiveness in his voice did something to her she could not quite explain. There had been no label for whatever they had. Other than that they were together. It had only been a month. She wanted to be his, to be his girl. Not just for the time being, but it was too early to say forever. 

She lost any coherent thought when he added a third finger. “Please,” she whispered as she closed her eyes. All she could focus on was his fingers pushing into her and his palm rubbing her clit. The sensation of being full, but not complete. She had trouble maintaining her balance, feeling dizzy. 

“Good girl,” he praised her as his thumb passed over her swollen clit. The light touch made her moan. Every nerve poised to send shockwaves over her body. She could feel his warm breath against her stomach which made her shiver. “Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” she remembered her manners. “Just stop teasing me,” Mitsuri pleaded. There was a sucking sound as he pulled his fingers out of her. Fuck. He brought his hand to her mouth, the scent of her arousal, sour and salty from sweat. Mitsuri opened her mouth and licked his fingers greedily. The feel of his warm fingers against her tongue. The way he dragged his thumb over her bottom lip sent small vibrations down her spine. Obanai took his fingers out of her mouth. He removed his hand from her hip. She hated to not have some part of him in or on her when they were intimate. 

She had to open her eyes as he lifted his hips from the couch to pull off his pants and briefs. His cock had a bead of precum and she licked her lips in anticipation. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked, daring for more. Originally, he said he just wanted to take care of her and her needs. He said he was uncomfortable with women touching him as he never trusted a woman to be with him so intimately. He also never let a woman see his face until her, so maybe he would allow her just a bit more. 

He nodded hesitantly and leaned back against the cushion. Her hand ran from his shoulder, his chest, and abdomen, taking her time to admire the way his muscles were sculpted from years of training. His breaths stilled as she ghosted a hand over his chest again. 

“You’re so sexy,” she glanced up at his face as she sat down in his lap. His two different colored eyes widened. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, but she wished she did. 

He grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her with an open mouth. His tongue met hers. It was more possessive, more demanding than the other kisses. He bit her bottom lip. She wiggled her hips and his dick rubbed against the sensitive flesh. She whimpered at the contact as they continued to kiss. Wantonly, she rubbed herself on his length sending shockwaves over her. Obanai deserved to feel as good as she did. He groaned into the kiss.

“Mitsuri,” he breathed, separating them. The strain in his voice shook her along with his eyes darkening. 

She lifted herself and positioned him so he would easily slip into her. Mitsuri sunk down onto him, moaning lightly at the sensation of being filled. She watched his face as she rolled her hips. His eyes were shut with a small smile on his face as she took her pleasure. Mitsuri leaned forward and their lips brushed. One of his hands cradled her face and the other cupped her ass. 

Electricity shot under her skin wherever he touched her. They were made for each other. In her heart of hearts she knew they were meant to meet. Two lonely people looking for acceptance and finding it in each other. Why couldn’t they have met sooner? She put a hand on the back of the couch for leverage. 

Mitsuri went up and down his shaft with increasing speed. Her breasts bounced from the force. His hand moved from her face to her right breast and squeezed. He groaned and began moving in time with her. She loved being with him like this. The growing intimacy between them strengthened their original bond. The one that pulled them towards each other from the moment they met. 

Between the kiss, his hands on her, and the ripples of pleasure from grinding herself on him, she felt a wave crash over her body. Her hand grasped his chest as her hips rolled against him. She came on his cock, her slick dripping onto him. She could hear herself panting and she looked at his face. He grinned at her as she slowed herself. 

“Sorry, I should have-“ Mitsuri started, somewhat embarrassed that she had lost herself to the feeling.

“Never apologize for coming on top of me,” he shifted his hips, still inside her. She pecked each of his cheeks before caressing the silver and pink lines. His eyes closed as she touched them. Where had he been for so long? 

“We can continue,” she whispered shyly.

“Only if you want,” he replied. 

She nodded her head, “I do. Give me a second to recover.” Mitsuri leaned her forehead on his shoulder as the muscles in her thighs twitched, riding the high. Obanai kneaded her hips, massaging the sore muscles and threatening to make her into a puddle. 

“Obanai,” she whispered. 

“Are you too sore? Your thighs are twitching,” he hummed against her ear.

“Yes, but no,” she breathed. “I want to continue.” 

“Good because you deserve more,” she could sense how smug he was. 

Fuck.  

He thrust lightly into her once. She could feel him pulse inside her. Obanai held her tightly as he repositioned them on the couch. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he laid her down, never once leaving her empty. 

There was no one else that made her feel beloved, valued, and cherished. It was almost like his sole purpose when they made love was pleasing her and his desires came second. She squeezed her thighs against his sides before bending her knees to rest in the cushions. His eyes dilated. 

Reaching up, she caressed his cheek. Her fingers trailed the scar up to his ears before running them under his chin to draw him in. Obanai leaned into her touch. He kissed her again. She loved this side of him. He was more confident with sex than she had thought he would be considering his past. His hand touched her thigh, squeezing the back of it, as she moaned. 

“I know you can be louder than that, Mitsuri,” he whispered into her ear, breaking the kiss. She moaned louder. “You’re breathtaking,” he praised. She wanted to melt into him. 

“You are too,” she breathed, he leaned forward to put his forehead on hers. They were the only two people that existed in the world. Just like the first time. All she could see in the dim light were his gold and teal eyes. Sweet and sincere as he slowly thrust into her. 

Every sensation seemed to be heightened. From the weight of his body pressing her into the couch to the deep thrusts. His amber scent intoxicated her. There was a red tint to his cheeks. No doubt she was flushed pink all over. 

Mitsuri never wanted to part from him. He felt so right. Every other partner paled in comparison. She ran her fingers through his black hair, enjoying the silky feel. He shut his eyes for a moment, savoring her touch. 

She pulled him into her and brushed his lips. They were soft against her, less demanding than the last one. This one was soft and intimate. His thrusts came faster, her walls clenching and unclenching around him until another wave of pleasure coursed through her body. This one was closer to a gentle ripple compared to the colossal wave earlier. 

He groaned into her ear as she felt him come inside her. Obanai was careful as he rested his body onto top of her, not wanting to put his full weight on her. He rested his head on her chest. Her tits acted as a soft pillow. He attempted to sit up after a second. 

“I want to stay with you like this for a little longer,” she said. He looked up at her. She didn’t want to move. As soon as he got up she would lose his proximity, the closeness, warmth, and connection. 

Her hands ran through his silky hair again and he relaxed. His body molded to hers. Catching their breaths and finding it difficult to speak. Mitsuri was not sure how long they laid there. One of her arms loosely wrapped around his back while the other played with his black hair. Her legs were entangled with his. His head resting on her chest listening to her heartbeat. 

Eventually, she let him go. Obanai slid out of her, his spend and her arousal leaking onto her thighs. Mitsuri pushed her thighs together worried it would get on the couch. 

“I’ll be right back with a towel,” Obanai bent forward to grab a tissue and handed it to her to wipe off her inner thighs. He put on his briefs to grab a towel. Next time they should throw something over the couch or make it to his bedroom. 

Obanai came back and helped her clean off her legs. Obanai took the grey plush blanket lying over the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her. After sitting up, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He kissed the crown of her head. She wanted more nights like this. Just the two of them enjoying each other's presence in silence. A quiet comfort in an otherwise loud world. 

Kyojuro: Can you call me when you get off work?

Obanai: Sure. I’ll get off in 30 minutes. 

Around 4 P.M. Obanai walked out of Nichirin’s back door. Chef Sabito was in charge of the dinner shift, so he knew he was leaving the restaurant in good hands. He stepped into a puddle and grimaced as the water seeped through his work shoes. His ringtone played. Obanai looked at the caller id to see Flame Boy’s icon pop up. He accepted the call.

“Hello,” he answered, holding the phone to his ear. 

“So, are you going to tell me how things went with Mitsuri last night or do I have to ask?” Kyojuro asked loudly, brimming with excitement. Obanai regretted placing the phone to his ear immediately. He gritted his teeth. 

“What do you mean?” he questioned. 

“I saw you hugging her in your bedroom. You told her, didn't you?” His voice buzzed and Obanai envisioned the smirk on the firefighter’s face. “I told you I was a good wingman.” 

Crap. How did he- Then he remembered the bedroom door was slightly ajar and didn’t shut properly. He must have seen them then. It was an oversight. 

“I-” Obanai’s speech faltered. There was no way he could deny it. Obanai would not be able to get away with lying or a half truth. Not with his owllike senses.  “It didn’t happen last night. She and I- Well, I told her in February I wanted to be more than friends, but we only started seeing each other last month,” he confessed. Kyojuro let out an audible gasp. 

“You did? Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t you told everyone?” Kyojuro asked. “If you’re too shy I can do it for you. We can set up a brunch or -” 

“No,” he said firmly. He made it to his car and opened the trunk. The chef took off his work shoes and threw them in the trunk. He sat on the edge to put on tennis shoes. “It’s between Mitsuri and I. I want to keep it that way for a little longer.” He expected Kyojuro to start whining. 

Instead, he only asked, “Why?” 

“I haven’t told her about the fire or my family’s deaths. I haven’t found the right time or way to tell her. Until she knows I don’t have any right to ask more of her,” he admitted. On the other end, Kyojuro groaned. 

“Obanai, just tell her,” he said, his voice lower than normal. “Waiting to tell her will be worse. Based on the way she was looking at you last night, she adores you as much as you adore her.”

“I don’t think that's possible,” Obanai spoke without thinking through the implication. He slid into the front seat. 

“Why not?” Kyojuro asked. He was quiet. It wasn’t possible for Mitsuri to love him, not with the secrets between them. Whatever gods existed would have to be laughing if she did. “Why not?” Kyojuro asked with more persistence. 

“Because I love her,” Obanai said under his breath. He uttered the words when she was sleeping in bed at the hot springs and when he told his therapist. Hearing the words aloud, reaffirmed his feelings. 

“She’s the most amazing person I have ever met. She is generous, kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. I appreciate your encouragement, but I’ll tell her when I’m ready,” he said firmly. Kyojuro cleared his throat. 

“Alright,” Kyojuro said finally. “I can’t imagine a better person for you, so I’ll keep it to myself for now. For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. Our friends will be too. You deserve to be happy.” 

“Thanks,” Obanai responded. 

“Tengen is going to lose his shit,” Kyojuro laughed. 

“Don’t remind me,” Obanai sighed. 

Mitsuri officially ended her first year at Mid City Elementary School yesterday. She went out with Gyomei and the other teachers for drinks last night at the Village. She sighed thinking about how she tried to play wingwoman for Gyomei. There was a cute redhead sitting at the bar alone and she invited him to join them. He joined, but it turned out he had a boyfriend much to her and Gyomei’s disappointment. She should have vetted the man better. 

This Saturday morning it was only a little past 10 A.M. The sky was overcast and cloudy and the streets were wet after raining overnight. There were a few puddles Mitsuri had to avoid when walking from the parking lot to the dance studio. Mitsuri glanced up at the sign above the door, Crow’s Dance Studio. Kanae and Sanemi asked her and Obanai to come with them to the first dance lesson. She understood why she was invited because of her previous experience, but to her knowledge Obanai did not dance. Either way it was an excuse to spend time together. 

“Mitsuri!” Someone called out and Mitsuri turned around to see Kanae walking quickly towards her. She smiled seeing her best friend and Sanemi a few steps behind her. She hugged her friend and greeted Sanemi. 

“Obanai’s running late,” Sanemi said. Late? He had not mentioned anything to her. She tried to hide the look of disappointment from the couple. She nodded her head and followed them into the studio. 

When he was about to walk out the door, Obanai hesitated. Sanemi invited him and Mitsuri to come along to the first dance lesson. He told Sanemi that he had been learning how to dance from Shinjuro in preparation for the wedding. Sanemi laughed and asked him to prove it by coming. 

Through their conversations he found out she knew hip hop, swing, and ballroom. She had years of experience and had been part of her dance team in high school. He had only asked Shinjuro to teach him after he realized he loved her. She loved to dance and Obanai wanted to be able to dance with her at the wedding without embarrassing her or himself. He hoped to impress her if only a little. 

Shinjuro knew several forms of dancing. He and Ruka went out dancing for years when they started dating. His father told Obanai he was progressing well, he just needed to stop thinking too much about the actual count to the steps. Obanai’s problem was he could never stop thinking or counting. It went with his anxiety diagnosis. Circular thinking and then to use counting as a method to calm the thinking. He couldn’t win. 

You don’t have to be perfect. No one expects you to be perfect. 

He stared at the wood grain and traced the lines with his eyes. It was not helpful to agonize over what could happen. Whether or not he embarrassed himself did not matter. Hypotheticals got him nowhere. Inhaling deeply, he opened his front door and got into his car. 

His phone dinged.

It was an email from the private investigator. Against his better judgment he opened it. The email listed his biological father’s name, work number, and address. Obanai sat in the front seat of his Jeep staring at the name in stunned silence. 

Akira Fujihara. 

Akira Fujihara. 

Akira Fujihara. 

After 28 years, he finally knew the name of the man who left his mother. All Obanai had to do was dial the phone number listed and he would be talking to him. His mouth was dry. It would only take a second to press the number. 

The address was in Hiroshima, which meant his biological father traveled hours to get here. At any rate the man could have just called Nichirin’s main phone line to get a hold of his long lost son. He didn’t though. His finger hovered over the underlined string of numbers debating if he should call now or later. 

What was he supposed to say? When they first met, Obanai had been furious and threw him out of the restaurant. Should he start with an apology? That would be the best course of action. He pressed the call button and put it on speaker. It rang four times before going to voicemail. 

“Hello. You’ve reached Mr. Fujihara with Yuan Consulting Firm. I’m out of the office currently. Please leave your name, number, and reason for calling,” the voicemail said. Obanai’s mind went blank. They had the same voice. It was frightening how similar their cadence and tone were. His lungs constricted making it hard to breathe. Obanai ended the call without leaving a message. 

Why had he done that? It was the weekend. Why did he think Akira would be there? He could not just call without knowing what to say. Even with a voicemail. Fucking fuck.  

He lowered his head to rest on the steering wheel. Back to square one. He forced himself to take measured breaths, counting down from ten to stop himself from overthinking what just happened. He ignored his buzzing phone in his lap. Everyone would have to wait for his nerves to settle. Beneath the surface, his nerves buzzed, his hands would be shaking if it wasn’t for him trying to manage the shock. 

Think it through. 

Obanai had a name and a number. After he planned out what to say he would call again. He wanted to know what Akira meant to tell him the night he came to the restaurant. He said he had no idea Obanai existed with all sincerity. Obanai was inclined to distrust new people. There had been something in Akira’s tone that was too earnest. 

What purpose would he have to lie? The facts were he came to see Obanai personally and traveled hundreds of miles to do it. There would not be many reasons for a person to do that unless he needed an organ. Though if that were the case, Akira would have tried contacting him again. He ran a hand through his long hair. He did not have time for this. 

He looked down at his phone again to see a message from Sanemi. Maybe he should just cancel since he would be disrupting the lesson by coming late. Except he had already promised to come. A decent person would follow through with their promise despite the circumstances. His mouth twisted. He could break down later. 

Obanai turned his car on. Mitsuri’s playlist had been the last music in his queue. A guitar riff filtered through his speakers before he switched to his classical music playlist. It was a stark contrast, much like their aesthetics. Tengen pointed out their differences: A doom and gloom boy and a bubblegum pink girl. Classical music and pop punk music. In some ways they complimented each other and were able to learn from each other because of those differences. The familiar sound of piano keys, violin strings, and woodwind reeds calmed him for the time being. 

He sent Sanemi a quick message that he was going to be late. 

Asami, the dance instructor, was a short dark haired woman. She wore a black top with a long ebony skirt. Her eyes were dark brown and covered in smoky eyeshadow. She used Mitsuri to show Sanemi and Kanae how to perform a basic box step and pointed out where to place their hands. Ten minutes into the lesson Obanai walked through the door while the bell chimed. 

He wore a grey shirt and black pants. He always wore shades of color. The black surgical mask over his beautiful face. She was growing to hate the mask and what it represented. A daily reminder of the shame he carried from his abusive childhood. 

“You made it,” Mitsuri welcomed him and beckoned him to her. Sanemi nodded at him and Kanae smiled. He glanced at the dance instructor one more time before he walked towards the pink haired woman. 

“Thanks for coming. I’m Asami,” the instructor greeted him with a polite smile. “We’re working on a box step if you wish to join.” 

“Obanai,” he introduced himself stiffly. Mitsuri tilted her head to the side, noticing how rigid his body seemed. His shoulders were straight, his hands in his pockets while he looked intensely at the dance instructor. It must be his anxiety. Mitsuri touched his elbow as a means to comfort him. His head turned to her now. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. 

“It’s okay,” Mitsuri replied, rubbing his forearm. He stiffened for a second and glanced at Kanae and Sanemi. They were too busy with Asami to notice the maid of honor and groomsmen’s interaction.

“Let’s have some fun. Do you know how to dance?” She asked, trying to distract him. Sanemi and Kanae’s song, Young and Beautiful by Lana del Rey, played in the background. The soft and dreamy lyrics filtered through the air. Behind his mask, she could almost see his lips pursing. 

“Yes,” he answered. “Not well though.” He finally looked up at her. 

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Mitsuri’s hand went from his forearm to grab his hand. She put her other hand on his shoulder while he placed his on her hip to direct her steps. Mitsuri followed his lead as they performed a simple box step. “What else do you know?” She asked. 

“Ballroom basics,” he answered, his eyes shifting uncomfortably. 

“So if I asked you to spin me you could?” Mitsuri flirted in a voice barely above a whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he raised their hands in the air and with his other one it ran up her back and guided her to twirl under their raised arms. 

Her heart fluttered as they faced each other again. There was no doubt in her mind he was smiling under the black mask. The tension falling away from his frame. She could feel her temperature rise as their dance became more fluid. He put her in a trance with his gaze alone, looking at her as if she were the only person in existence. 

With each step his confidence grew. They moved around their half of the room as if they were gliding across the sky instead of the waxed floor of the studio. Obanai danced better than he let on even for a novice. His disciplined and steadfast nature showed in his measured steps and the way he carefully directed her movements in time with his. 

As the chorus rose, he spun her three times around before he crossed her arms in front of her to hold her back to his chest. He took small steps to keep her close. The sound of his breath against her ear and she could feel the goosebumps running down her back. She closed her eyes savoring the moment. If she turned her head just so, she could kiss him. 

“You’re enchanting,” he whispered before releasing one of her hands and spinning her out before bringing her back in, so they faced each other. The song was coming to an end, so their steps turned languid and smaller with every turn returning to the original box step. 

A flurry of emotions simmered to the surface as the music faded. Her heart hammered from the exertion of the dance. His hand on the small of her back, the other grasping her hand, and his dual colored eyes looked at her with such adoration that he pinned her in place. The music stopped, but neither moved away from the other. 

Why hadn’t he mentioned he could dance before now? Obanai was not a perfect dancer. It took years, but he was competent and knew the basics as he claimed. They could have gone out dancing on their date if she had known. 

She was tempted to lean forward and pull down his mask in order to kiss him. Clapping disrupted her train of thought and Obanai released her, breaking the trance he put her under. Mitsuri turned to see Kanae and Asami clapping for the two of them from across the studio floor. 

“I want to be able to dance like that,” Kanae said, pointing at Mitsuri and Obanai. Sanemi grinned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His purple eyes trained on Obanai. Mitsuri felt a blush creep over her cheeks and reached up to play with her hair, but it was tied back in a ponytail making it impossible. 

“That’s why you’re here,” Asami said pointedly. “By the time of your wedding, you’ll be dancing circles around those two.” Sanemi turned his attention back to his future bride and clasped her hand. 

“Let’s keep practicing. I can’t let Obanai show me up,” Sanemi pulled the tall woman into him and continued figuring out how to count out steps and mirroring each other’s movements. Asami adjusted their hand placements and turned on the music again, forgetting Obanai and Mitsuri. Mitsuri looked over at the chef and grinned widely at him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you could dance?” She questioned. 

“I didn’t know how until a few months ago. I asked my father to teach me after I realized-” he paused. His hands were back in his pockets. “How much you enjoyed dancing.” 

“You-you did?” Tears threatened to leak from her eyes, she had to blink rapidly to stop herself. He nodded once. Above the mask, she saw his pale skin flush. He had a difficult time expressing himself, sometimes bordering on shyness, which endeared him to her. Slowly, he was revealing himself to her like a flower blooming in the first days of spring. 

“How many more surprises do you have?” Mitsuri asked, teasing him. The more she learned about him, the more she liked him. She could not wait to know every surprise he had in store for her. 

“Plenty,” he replied, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away. He was having a hard time making eye contact. During their dance, he seemed to relax, but now his posture grew rigid again. 

“Do you want to get out of here for a second?” Mitsuri asked, sensing something else was going on. He only nodded and walked away. 

“We’ll be right back,” she called out to Sanemi and Kanae and followed him out the door. The bell chimed as they exited. They walked in silence a block away. What was going on? Was it a bad day for his anxiety? Depression? Was it like back in November when he shut down and turned numb? She hoped it wasn’t. He was making her nervous. 

At the entrance of an alleyway he paused and took out his phone. Without any words, he handed it to her, their fingers brushing as she took it. She scanned the message on the screen that was sent over an hour ago. The PI found his birth father, Akira Fujihara. An image was attached that showed an older version of the man standing in front of her. Mitsuri gaped her mouth like a fish as she stared at the photo. 

“This is why you were late,” she said as a statement. “They found him,” she looked up from the screen to see Obanai squeezing a snake toy in his right hand and his pupils were pinpricks. His breathing staggered and he blinked rapidly, trying to remain calm. She put the phone in her pocket. Her arms wrapped around his frame.

“You’re alright,” she murmured, holding him tightly. His arms snaked around her torso and he rested his head on her shoulder, seeking comfort. “I’m right here,” Mitsuri said calmly, “I’m not going anywhere.”  She felt one of his hands grasping the back of her shirt tightly. It reminded her of the time he first told her about his mental health issues. All she had wanted to do then was to hold him. Now, she could. 

“Thank you,” Obanai whispered, his voice raspy. Her chest ached recognizing the way he struggled to get the words out. 

“Of course,” Mitsuri ran a hand through his dark, smooth hair. She loved his hair and his vulnerability. 

Each interaction, touch, lingering glance, caress, and conversation brought them closer, the red string tightening around their fingers. His gentle eyes watched her tenderly from the moment they met, guarded, but not unkind. The first time she visited Nichirin and tasted his cooking. He laughed at her stupid jokes. He made her feel like she was home back then and now. Oba made her sakura mochi when he had no experience because she mentioned it was her favorite food once. The way they danced around each other for months, unsure of the other’s feelings. Now, he learned how to dance for her . Obanai didn’t make fun of her fashion choices and even gifted her a pair of green thigh high socks. 

Anytime she tried to apologize for something she did or said he reassured her, she didn’t have to. She didn’t need to apologize for being herself. Not with him. He appreciated her for everything she was. The weird, nervous girl with pink and green hair who talked too much, ate too much, and took on too much. She could be herself without worrying whether or not he would accept her. He just did, unconditionally. 

“I’m right here,” she whispered softly. Her heart skipped and she held him closer. An emotion she thought she knew surfaced. An emotion she did not yet have the courage to name.

Chapter Text

Mid-May- Early June

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The sun was high in the sky. Mitsuri stood by the wall surrounding the Butterfly House. Shinobu and her were supposed to hang out, but the Insect Hashira had to see a last minute patient. 

A blond haired man approached her. He was garbed in the traditional black uniform. His name was Haru. They had been on a few missions together. He was extroverted and always had a joke to share. 

“Miss Kanroji, I was wondering if you had a moment to speak. I have something I want to tell you,” Haru said, his shoulders squared up. His brown eyes met her gaze. 

“I’d love to. I am meeting up with Miss Kocho soon though,” she warned him. “What did you want to talk about?” She tilted her head. They had only spoken a handful of times. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot since my last mission. A demon tried to drown me and I nearly died. It made me realize I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hunting demons. I decided to leave the corps,” he explained. It was a farewell. “Well, I’d like you to join me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. He was a few centimeters taller than her and she had to look up. 

“Ever since you saved me from that vine demon, I have loved you,” he announced proudly.

Mitsuri flushed at the confession. How was she supposed to respond? No one had ever confessed to her. Not even her previous fiance or her other suitor. In fact, her fiance insulted her and told her she would be better off marrying a beast. Only a beast could love a freak like her. Thinking back to that moment on the bridge nearly a year ago made her wince inwardly. 

She did not want to crush this man’s dreams, but there was no chance. She shifted from foot to foot and held her hand to her chest, contemplating his proclamation. There was someone she thought she loved. If she truly knew what love was. How did someone know? Though she was the Love Hashira, she had no experience with romantic love. She envisioned a slight man with dark hair in an oversized black and white striped haori. Her heart quickened. If only he was the man standing in front of her, confessing. She would never be that lucky. 

“You are so cute and nice. Would you marry me?” Haru asked, leaning forward. He was way too close for comfort. This was the reason she joined the corps, was it not? To find a husband? Yes, but not Haru. Mitsuri looked at the dirt between her feet. She wore the green stockings Obanai had given her a few months ago. A reminder of his thoughtfulness. Her face heated up.

“Umm,” she finally mustered to say something. “I really appreciate it, but I cannot. There’s someone else I love and want to marry,” Mitsuri said. She had never said the words aloud before. The air shifted. Haru held his arms at his side, crestfallen. “I had no intention of leading you on. I’m so sorry,” she bowed her head, shut her eyes, and held up her hands in prayer like Gyomei. Laughter rang in her ears and she opened one eye to see Haru holding a hand over his mouth. 

“You can’t blame a man for trying,” Haru said and this time he looked away. He was handsome, but he was the antithesis to the man who lingered in her thoughts. 

Haru was jovial and outgoing, but he was not the man that made her knees weak. The man who smiled at her with just his eyes, crinkling at the edges. The man who was patient and listened to her ramble for hours during meals, patiently waiting for her to finish her eight bowls of food The man who told her she deserved the moon as he handed her a dango. The one she wanted to see every time she came back from a mission. The one who guided her home like a beacon. 

“Who is it?” Haru asked. 

“I don’t want to say,” Mitsuri admitted. She did not know who was around and could overhear their conversation. If word got back to Iguro she would die from embarrassment. “He is the kindest person I have ever met. He’s patient, handsome, and thoughtful. He treats everyone fairly and-“

“Kanroji!” Shinobu called from behind Mitsuri. She turned her back to Haru and grinned at the Insect Hashira. The Insect Hashira was under five feet tall with black and purple hair tied back into a bun. Her violet eyes sparkled as they noticed Mitsuri’s flushed face. 

“Did I interrupt something?” Shinobu asked as she stepped beside the pinked haired woman. The Insect Hashira was calculating and observant. She smiled impishly at the pair. 

“No, I was just wishing Miss Kanroji farewell,” Haru explained. Mitsuri nodded in agreement. Shinobu would interrogate her later. “Best wishes to you, Miss Kanroji and Miss Kocho,” he said. Haru dipped his head to the two women. He held Mitsuri’s gaze for a second before he walked away. Shinobu kept smiling before turning to Mitsuri. 

“What were you really talking about? Your face is bright red,” Shinobu teased. Mitsuri ran a hand over her right braid and hesitated for a moment. 

“He is leaving the corps,” she said. “He asked to marry me.” For a brief moment, Shinobu lost her smile. The normal facade faded when it was just the two of them. 

“Do you intend to go? I thought you wanted someone stronger than you,” Shinobu glanced over where the man left, raising one brow. Mitsuri shook her head. 

“No. He seems nice, but he- well, he's not the person I love,” she lowered her voice for the last part. Shinobu gave her a new mischievous smile. They talked about the type of person Mitsuri was looking for before. Someone strong, handsome, and compassionate. 

“I didn’t know you loved someone,” Shinobu started walking along the dirt path towards the Butterfly House garden. Her sister, Kanae, started it and Shinobu maintained it. Mitsuri followed after her shorter friend. They entered a vast garden with planter boxes and raised beds. There were shiso, mizuna, mitsuba, and wasabina used for food and other medicinal herbs. There was a small fountain in the middle of the garden. Mitsuri heard the soft trickle of water running down the rocks. Shinobu reached one of the garden beds and started pulling weeds. 

“So, are you going to tell me who it is or do I have to guess?” Shinobu joked. 

“I'm not sure if it’s love or infatuation. How do you know if it is true love? I thought I would know when I felt it, but how can you know for sure ?” Mitsuri prattled off. “I know the love I feel for my family. It’s like tasting my mother’s miso and watching my siblings play.” In the heat, sweat formed on her brow. She started pulling weeds to keep her hands from fidgeting mindlessly. 

Shinobu hummed, trying to decide how to answer. She tapped her chin. To Mitsuri’s knowledge, Shinobu was not interested in romance. She was focused on her studies to develop new poisons to destroy demons. She did not have time for love. Maybe love would find her, Mitsuri thought hopefully. 

“My sister talked about falling in love once,” Shinobu whispered. Her eyes clouded over speaking of Kanae. “She said her face heated up, her stomach filled with butterflies, her heart raced,” her hand hovered over a green frond, deep in thought. “Sometimes she lost the ability to speak when he was around. What else did she say?” the purple haired hashira looked up thoughtfully at the cloudless sky. “She felt sick, nervous, and her palms would sweat,” Shinobu smiled weakly and shifted her eyes back to Mitsuri. 

She experienced everything Shinobu described. The flutter in her chest, the butterflies, nausea, and sweating profusely because she worried about making a fool of herself in front of him. He was so poised and well spoken. Though what she felt would not matter if he did not feel the same. He was nice to everyone, so it was hard to tell if he liked her or liked her. The uncertainty made her second guess telling him. 

“Kanae was like you. She wore her heart on her sleeve. Kind, sweet, and always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt,” Shinobu said. She blinked rapidly. 

“Before she could confess, Kanae died. It was better that she never told him. In our line of work, there is no telling if we’re going to survive another sunrise. It would have been crueler to tell him only to have him suffer knowing what they could have been if she lived. Let alone if she had turned into a demon. That is rather pessimistic though,” Shinobu said, lightening her tone. 

Her friend had a tendency to veil her true emotions behind a smile. She pushed any unpleasant emotions down and tried to keep conversation light. At first, Mitsuri bought into Shinobu's exuberant personality, but the closer they became the more Mitsuri noticed the cracks in her veneer. Shinobu’s eyes never closed or crinkled at the corners like it would with a genuine smile. 

“You have a point,” Mitsuri said. How would she carry on if she told Iguro only for him to die? A chill ran down her back. She could not fathom a world without him. She pursed her lips. Or a world where he was a demon and she would have to- She did not have the courage to finish that thought. Nor did she have the courage to tell him how she felt. She had been rejected before. If Iguro were to reject her, she didn’t think she would recover.

“Should I start guessing who he is?” Shinobu teased and laughed to lighten the mood. “Someone strong and handsome... Is it Rengoku?” 

“No, he’s like one of my brothers,” Mitsuri said and bumped Shinobu with her hip. Shinobu wrinkled her nose. 

“Uzui?” Shinobu guessed again. “You could be his fourth wife! Suma loves you already,” her violet eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“No,” Mitsuri said louder and she glanced around the garden. “I’ll tell you, but please be quieter,” Mitsuri pleaded. 

“But, this is so much fun,” Shinobu said. “Tokito? He’s a bit young, but I suppose the Master and his wife made it work.”

“He’s older,” she replied. They should not be talking about the Master in such a way. He deserved the utmost respect. Shinobu paused and met Mitsuri’s gaze. A shadow fell over her delicate features. 

“It can’t be Tomioka. It’s not him, right?” Shinobu asked, her tone growing serious. The Insect Hashira’s interest in the Water Hashira amused Mitsuri. She constantly prodded and teased the man. Almost to the point of bullying him because he was so quiet and non expressive. Even Mitsuri had difficulty keeping him engaged in conversation. He had a tendency to zone out. “Right?” Shinobu repeated. 

“No, it’s not him either,” Mitsuri looked down at the pile of weeds they collected. Her face burned. “It’s Iguro-san,” Mitsuri whispered, her voice barely audible over trickling water. Her friend watched her, assessing the Love Hashira. Mitsuri bit her bottom lip.  

“Truly?” Shinobu asked. 

“I think so,” Mitsuri said, looking away. Everything Shinobu described held true, but it seemed to only touch the surface. It was more than physicality. The pull she felt in his presence and the way he looked at her so sweetly. Gentle and calm. She loved his mismatched eyes. His quiet observations and carefully written letters. It was possible he was just being friendly to a fellow Hashira and offering her guidance, but she desperately wished for more. How was she supposed to know what he felt for her? 

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Mitsuri woke to the sound of shattering glass. She jolted up from her spot on the couch and saw Captain Sushi stretching his back on the coffee table, replacing her glass candy bowl. His blue-green eyes looked at her expectantly and then sat down to bite his back foot. Glancing down, Mitsuri saw the broken bowl and cherry candies on the wood floor. She would have to crawl over the back of the couch to avoid stepping on the shards. 

“Why did you have to break it, Sush?” she said, her voice gravelly from her nap. Sushi meowed at her and jumped into her lap. She patted his soft fur as he settled in. The glass was not going anywhere. Once she was more awake she would clean it up. “Maybe you need a friend to distract you,” she murmured.

The dreams set in her fantasy world were becoming more frequent. Her subconscious reinforced and questioned her feelings for the dark haired man. The last time she loved a man, he turned out to be an absolute jerk. She so freely gave her love away to someone unworthy. She ran her hand through Sushi’s red and white fur. 

Obanai was nothing like her ex. He appreciated her and all her weird quirks. Her pink hair, strength, awkwardness, weird sense of fashion, and large appetite. What had he told her before? The next time she dated someone they need to appreciate her for everything she was, otherwise she should break up with them. It was the same night she realized how much she liked him and wanted to be more than friends. She envisioned them sitting on the floor of Kaburamaru’s room. Obanai held a strand of her hair and complemented her uniqueness. Looking back, she should have known he liked her. The possibility of being shot down had held her back then and even now. 

“Sushi, should I say something?” Mitsuri questioned. She had told her ex, Kyo, right away when she realized she loved him and it led her down a path she did not wish to repeat. A rushed engagement and losing herself in the process. Fear gripped her. She wore her heart on her sleeve, yet this made her pause. Obanai liked her, but loved her? No, they had only been dating a short time. She shook her head. 

There were more pressing matters. Obanai’s anxiety was high enough as it was. Tonight was his first night as head chef, officially. Gyomei and her planned to go and support him. Plus the PI found his biological father. The image of Akira left no room to dismiss that he was Obanai’s father. They were unmistakable copies of each other. Obanai asked her to help figure out what to say to the man. 

Last week, they sat at his kitchen table discussing what to tell Akira. She would have called him right away, but Obanai needed to prepare. Anxiety was getting the best of him, she saw the way his hand trembled as he wrote out what he wanted to say. What he wrote was barely legible. 

Mitsuri edited his script, even writing in a pink pen to correct his grammar or make suggestions. She bent her head thinking of how she told him his introduction was a strong start. She wanted to crawl into a hole, instead she covered her face with her hands to hide her shame. His raspy laugh met her ears and her heart warmed when she peeked behind her hands to see his face. His eyes closed and edges crinkled as he laughed, breaking the tension. She was unable to deny herself. 

I love you, Obanai.  

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The Serpent Hashira stood on the outer wall leading to the Butterfly House, overhearing Kanroji talk to another man. His hand rested over his blade’s hilt, ready to pull it out if the man disrespected Miss Kanroji. Several men made crude and vile remarks about her when she first joined. He was quick to shut the men up and put them in their place with threats for disrespecting a fellow hashira. 

Even now, Obanai glared, berated, and hit the men for disgracing her. No one disrespected her without consequences. Whether it was insulting their manhood, throwing them to the ground, tripping them, or putting them through exhausting training drills. He would make them pay. Even though he could never be with her, he could at least protect her. 

The lesser man asked for her hand in marriage. Red flashed across his vision thinking the idiot could possibly think he was good enough to marry the Love Hashira. He tightened his grip over his sword’s violet and lavender hilt. 

“Shithead,” Obanai muttered as he clenched his teeth. 

“I really appreciate it, but I cannot. There’s someone else I love and want to marry,” Mitsuri said. “He is the kindest person I have ever met. He’s patient, handsome, and thoughtful. He treats everyone fairly and-“

His hand rested over his chest as his heart froze. She found someone to love. Of course she did. Who wouldn’t be drawn in by her? He imagined her smiling as she spoke about the handsome man. Her voice was lighter as she listed off the man’s attributes. He could not listen to this anymore and started walking back to his estate. A warm breeze drifted by making his skin clammy. 

In the deep recesses of his mind, Obanai hoped her smiles were reserved solely for him. It was selfish and a mere fantasy to believe Kanroji thought of him as anything more than a comrade. Who was he to think she could ever feel something for a wretched beast like him? Idiot.

Kaburamaru turned his head back and forth looking for what was distressing the Serpent Hashira. Obanai rubbed his right eye, pushing his palm into the socket. He could hardly see out of his amber eye. It was as faulty as he was. He gritted his teeth in frustration. They were friends and respected each other. There had never been a chance. None he was willing to give unless he was a different person, cleansed of his and his family’s sins. Free from the restraints and memories of his family and the demon they worshiped. 

Dammit all, I will never be good enough. Besides, I already vowed to die killing the demon king. 

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He loathed these dreams. They did nothing, but reinforce his self loathing and self defeating behaviors. That and they kept reminding himself of how unworthy he was of Mitsuri. Lending aid to his fear, she would realize she could find someone better. 

“I am not an idiot. I have my hang ups, but they will no longer hold me back. I am getting better even if it’s slow,” Obanai said, reciting positive affirmations. The tension eased in his neck as he shut his eyes taking in steady breaths by counting to four. It was getting easier to combat his negative thoughts and recognizing the intrusive thoughts for what they were. 

Perhaps the dreams were challenging the last remnants of his self doubt regarding his long held belief he was unworthy. Or maybe they went deeper, memories from a past life considering how visceral they were. He could still feel the warm breeze on his skin and the overwhelming jealousy towards the mysterious man. Every detail ingrained in his head, though he had been almost completely blind in the right eye. It was an odd difference. 

Although he’d rather have these fantasy dreams compared to the nightmares from his childhood. The last nightmare he had was two months ago. It was after his first EMDR therapy to process the incident and other vivid memories. Dr. Ubuyashiki said the success rate was between 70 to 80 percent with PTSD cases. 

When he thought about his mother and relatives he did not feel their burnt hands dragging him down to Hell. Instead he saw himself climbing a glass staircase with their arms beneath the surface. They were still present, but there was a barrier. He half expected the glass to break and his relatives would remind him of all his failures before ripping him apart. Again, intrusive thoughts. He shook his head forcing himself to focus. 

“Right now,” Obanai let his hand hover over the call button, “I have to call Akira.” The name sounded foreign and heavy. His throat threatened to constrict. 

Kaburamaru laid in his lap and looked up at him with inquisitive crimson eyes. He attempted to call several times, but lost his nerve every time. A paper laid out in front of him that provided him a script of what to say to the man who sired him. It was stupid. He had called when he first received the email on a whim, but he could not find the courage to do it again. 

Theoretically, this man would give him answers. Maybe even give him insight to who his mother had been or what afflicted her. Akira said he didn’t know he existed. His mother never told Akira about Obanai. His voice had been so earnest that he could not be lying. He stared at the page again and read over the words. There were several lines and branches for different conversations depending on if he had to leave a voicemail or ended up reaching the man.

Voicemail: Hello, this is Iguro Obanai. (Strong start. Mitsuri had said this when he wrote it down originally. She was adorable as she hid her face in embarrassment, cheeks turning pink.) You came to my restaurant a few months ago. I never expected to meet you and it came as a shock. I was rash and acted out. If you’re still willing, I would like to talk about what happened. If not, I understand. You can reach me at this number. 

Short, clean, and simple. That was all it had to be, yet it had taken him a week to write it. There was a pile of crumpled up papers in the recycling bin with black and pink ink. Mitsuri edited some of the notes and suggested he start with ‘Sorry’, but he could not make himself write down the word. If he heard someone apologize over a voicemail it would seem disingenuous. It needed to be said in person or in the moment. Though, he had no idea how Akira would interpret his actions and words given their first meeting. He winced and looked over at the other sheet of paper. 

The other script was a bullet point list of questions all pertaining to his parents’ history. Questions about what his mother was like, how they met, what happened to make his mother not tell him about Obanai, why did he leave his mother, why did he break the engagement, and countless others. It would take more than one phone call. If the man even wanted to talk to Obanai. He would not blame Akira if he didn’t call back. Obanai wouldn’t. Though that probably had more to do with his anxiety than anything else. 

Kaburamaru lifted his head and placed it on the table. He nudged Obanai’s hand towards the phone gently. His friend glanced up at him and Obanai stroked the snake’s ivory scales, finding peace in the familiar smooth texture.

“You’re telling me to call, aren’t you?” Obanai asked. Kaburamaru flicked his red tongue out twice in confirmation. He sighed and Kaburamaru slithered up his chest to coil around his neck. He pressed his head against Obanai’s scarred cheek in quiet comfort. The white snake had been with him since he was a teenager and could read his emotions as if it were a second  sense. 

“Alright,” Obanai said. “Only because you asked so nicely.” The snake’s tail twitched and Obanai smirked. He finally tapped the blue icon.

Luckily, Akira did not pick up and Obanai was able to read the voicemail script. Now all he had to do was wait. Obanai swallowed. When and if his biological father called back Obanai would finally get answers. Before his mind could conjure multiple disastrous responses, he decided to text Mitsuri, only to see she sent him a message minutes ago. 

Mitsuri: Sushi broke my candy bowl 😭RIP Crystal

Obanai: You named your candy bowl? 

Mitsuri: Of course! Don’t you name your knives? 

Obanai: No… That would be macabre. I’ll find you a new one. Also, I called and left a voicemail. 

Mitsuri: You’re the best! 🙌 you did it! I’m sure he’ll call you as soon as he hears it. 

Obanai: We’ll see. 

Mitsuri: Do you doubt me?

Obanai: What? 

Mitsuri: He’ll call. 😁 I can see the future. 🔮

Obanai: Oh, what else do you foresee?

Mitsuri: I see you making me delicious food. ☺️ 

Obanai: That’s a given. 

Mitsuri: Told you! I’ll see you tonight at Nichirin 😘I’m picking up Gyomei on the way

Obanai: Will he fit in your car?

Mitsuri: Yes, but it’s like a clown getting into a clown car

Obanai: …I have never seen that.

Mitsuri: What?!? We have to go to the circus now! Maybe there’s one coming this summer. 

Obanai watched as she continued typing out future plans for them. Her desire to spend time with him still fazed him. Especially at times like these when he was working through his trauma, past, and future. It was compiling on itself, yet she made it seem manageable. Mitsuri cared for him. Her unwavering loyalty and support were still overwhelming, but he was growing accustomed to it. Perhaps there was a chance they could be happy together. 

Starting tonight, he was officially Nichrin’s Head Chef. No pressure at all. Everything was in place. The knives were sharpened. The vegetables were prepped. Meat was seasoned. The waitstaff and kitchen staff were on time and ready to work before the evening opening. All Obanai had to do was to keep everything from falling apart. He had opened and closed the restaurant countless times. Except then he had only been the sous chef. If anything went wrong he had his boss to refer to. Now he was the boss. 

If anything were to happen it would be on him. He had no one to fall back on. His mouth twitched underneath the black mask. It was all on him. Obanai took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in the walk-in refrigerator. He found solace in the cold and near quiet room. The fan whirled. Nothing changed here except for the revolving food containers. He tapped a pen on the clipboard making a note to order more cabbage next week. 

Obanai worked the dinner shift thousands of times. He had been able to handle everything that was thrown at him. Chef Urokodaki had faith in him. The rest of the staff did. Everything would go well and if it didn’t then he had the experience to fall back on. Customer complaints, staffing issues, equipment failures, asshole customers, and numerous other concerns. He had seen and dealt with it all before. 

He put enough pressure on himself and his self worth being the equivalent to his work. But-no. His worth was not tied to his success or failure tonight. The thudding of his heart slowed. No, his worth was how he perceived himself. It was tied to his ability to think quickly on his feet, analyze situations, sharp wit, attention to detail, and many other attributes he could not think of at this moment. 

Mitsuri and Gyomei were coming later. She wanted to support him on his first day in the new position. The first time she came to Nichirin she told him she would come back to the restaurant just to see him. Back then he dissuaded himself from believing they could be anything. Even being friends had been elusive. Now, they were together because he pushed aside his fears and reached for the sun.

Obanai flexed his wrist and walked out of the refrigerator. He let his instincts take over as he reviewed the menu and specials with the staff. The menu he crafted for tonight did not require a lot of time, just precision and careful timing for the cook times. Two hours passed without issue. 

Obanai placed Zenitsu in charge of plating the meals, allowing him a certain amount of responsibility. The blonde was in tears when Obanai delegated the end role to him. He tried to hug the chef, but Obanai held up his hand and slid away, still averse to physical touch with unfamiliar people. 

Eventually, Aoi walked into the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. Her dark blue eyes gleamed as she waved at Obanai. She held a tablet in her hand. 

“Your girl and giant are here,” Aoi said. He had told her before that Mitsuri was only a friend, but it didn’t work. She still referred to Mitsuri as his girl, which to be fair was not too far from the truth. “They’re getting their usual. Pork cutlets, cabbage salad with extra tonkatsu sauce for the lady. Salmon with daikon for the gentleman,” Aoi finished.  

“Thanks,” he said and started prepping their food. The staff knew not to cook for his friends at this point. He still didn’t trust them to keep Gyomei’s meal free of allergens. Obanai took special care to wipe down all equipment to prevent any cross contamination. 

When he finished the dishes he washed his hands and took off his apron. Obanai replaced the apron with his professional chef coat, complete with initials. He told the staff he would be back in fifteen minutes with instructions to have a bowl of miso ramen ready. Mitsuri usually ate several dishes in one sitting. 

He grabbed the bowls and plates and made his way out the double doors. He paused briefly when he saw his friends. Mitsuri was sitting by the window with Gyomei on high stools. She was wearing a black skirt and tank top with a stylistic sakura tree on the front. However, that isn’t what caught his attention, she wore the green striped thigh high socks he gave her for Christmas. She was going to be the end of him. 

He swallowed. A little more time and he could tell her the truth. He had his last EMDR therapy session with Dr. Ubuyashiki next week while Mitsuri was visiting her parents. Hopefully, it worked well enough to let him tell her his past without breaking down.

Right on cue, Mitsuri’s head turned towards him. Her green eyes reflected her warmth as he walked towards her and Gyomei. He set the ceramic plates and bowls in front of them. 

“Evening,” the head chef greeted them and let his arms fall to his sides. “I’m glad you could make it.” Gyomei glanced in Obanai’s direction. Sometimes, Obanai swore he could see right through him.  

“It smells divine,” the giant said as he bowed his head before thanking his gods for the meal. 

“It looks amazing,” Mitsuri said, she had not even looked at the plates. Her attention was solely on him and he could feel his ears turning red. His hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, so they were visible to everyone. Mitsuri shut her eyes as she beamed at him and his heart beat faster. “I’m so proud of you,” she said as she set her hand on the table. Seeing her smiling like this made the stress of his new position worthwhile. The chef sat down next to Mitsuri and set his hand beside hers. 

“I appreciate you coming. It means a lot that you and Gyomei decided to come tonight,” Obanai said, glancing over at their friend. He gave Gyomei a brief description to orient him to the precise location of his meal, drink, and condiments. Obanai tried to keep the locations the same every time Gyomei came in. Mitsuri brushed her pinky finger over the back of his hand. 

“What are friends for?” Gyomei asked and started eating the salmon on the plate. Mitsuri’s face flushed and she shifted in her seat slightly. “We were just talking about Mitsuri getting another cat.” 

“I want one, but with everything coming up I can’t. Between visiting my family, the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and the wedding, I would not have the time for them, you know?” Mitsuri frowned slightly. “I already worry I am not giving Sushi enough attention lately. He broke my candy bowl today.” 

“Which is why you should get another cat. They could distract each other,” Gyomei countered.

“Or they could potentially team up as agents of chaos,” Obanai offered drily. “They could plot to take over the world or whatever cats get up to.” 

“Exactly!” Mitsuri laughed lightly and squeezed his hand. His heart fluttered hearing her laughter. Gyomei encouraged the pink haired woman to get another cat as Mitsuri tried to resist for the next few minutes. He absorbed their chatter, content to be sitting with Mitsuri and Gyomei. 

“I do have to get another cat soon otherwise I won’t live up to my cat lady dreams. What’s a cat lady without a clowder of cats?” Mitsuri asked jokingly. 

“You’re finally seeing reason,” Gyomei clapped his hands together loudly, drawing the nearby customers to look towards their table. Obanai tried to ignore the looks, anxiety biting at his heels. “We can go to the shelter when you get back from your parents,” Gyomei offered. 

“Sounds like a deal,” Mitsuri agreed and took a bite of her cabbage salad. Beneath the table, he could tell she was swinging her legs back and forth. She let out a satisfied moan as she tasted it and glanced up at him with a sly smile. Yes, she meant to end him tonight. 

Too bad he would be stuck here past closing time. Then he had to come back in the morning to receive supplies and meet with vendors while Mitsuri celebrated her birthday with their friends. Uzui and his wives offered to host at their house because it was the largest and Suma gave birth to their son, Kannon, two weeks ago. According to Mitsuri, Suma felt isolated from the group since their son’s birth and jumped at the chance to host a birthday party. Part of him was disappointed in missing the party, which was rare. Parties had always been an obligation in the past. Though he had plans to celebrate her birthday after he got off work. 

“Well, maybe we can delay it until after the wedding,” Mitsuri replied. “The guilt would eat me alive if I ignored them for the next two months. You-”

“How can you call this a top tier restaurant? The service is atrocious, the servers act like we’re annoying them by asking questions,” a voice rose above the others. Obanai turned his head towards the sound. Near the front of the dining room, Aoi stood in front of a table with the biggest customer service smile he’d ever seen. The fake expression made him uncomfortable, but it couldn’t be helped. She was trying to steel her expression against the customer and his date. 

“I think it would be best if you lowered your voice. The other customers-” Aoi started, only to be interrupted. 

“I don’t need some college student telling me how to act,” the man snapped. “Who cares about the other people here. I am a Kibutsuji and I will not be disrespected.” The Kibutsuji family had been foundational in the creation of the city. They owned a fair amount of downtown along with a pharmaceutical company or something of the sort. It explained his pompous attitude and desire for special treatment. He scanned the room. His dark red eyes narrowed as they settled on Obanai and Mitsuri. 

Obanai nearly groaned, realizing who the customer was. It was the dickhead who thought wagyu needed to be charred black. He was welcome to the carcinogens. Mitsuri’s eyes widened seeing the scene play out. Her hand squeezed Obanai’s and the corners of her mouth turned downward. 

“I have to take care of this, sorry. We had trouble with him before,” he slipped his hand out from under Mitsuri’s, regretfully. She and Gyomei nodded in understanding as Obanai pushed back the high stool and walked over to the hostess and the affronted man.  

“Aoi, I can take over from here,” he said. Aoi gave one last look at the man as her eye twitched in irritation. The hostess left without a word, but he could see tears brimming her waterline. She was hardly ever fazed by customers. Obanai narrowed his gaze on the dark haired man. This time he was not wearing the hat and his facial features echoed another man. He looked eerily familiar to Dr. Ubuyashiki except with wavy hair and rich carmine-colored eyes. 

“Do you have memory issues? The last time you were here I told you not to come back,” Obanai questioned. He kept his voice smooth and measured as he spoke. 

“As long as I pay, what does it matter?” He smirked, his lips curling back in a cynical smile. What was this guy’s deal? 

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. From this moment you’re officially banned from Nichirin. If I served you any more food from our kitchen it would be an insult to this establishment regardless of your family. I won’t have an uncultured ratbag criticize my food unfairly and berate my staff, Sir,” Obanai said. 

“Do you treat all your customers like this? It’ll only take one review to ruin your reputation,” he threatened. This made Obanai chuckle before he pointed a finger at the man. 

“Unless you’re secretly a master chef or food blogger in disguise, I couldn't care less,” he looked the man up and down. “Though I seriously doubt either considering the way you act and poor  taste. I would hope someone from the Kibutsuji family would have more tact. You’re nothing more than an uncouth, boorish plebeian. Remove yourself now or I will do it for you,” Obanai said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The light haired woman beside Kibutsuji shifted uncomfortably. 

“Let’s go,” his date said and pulled on the man’s jacket. “I don’t want to make a scene.” The man had the decency to look back at her. “Just pay and we’ll go,” she said. He gritted his teeth before pushing the seat backwards. 

“I’m not paying for this shit,” the man spat as he stared down at Obanai. He meant to intimidate the chef. Obanai shrugged. 

“You didn’t pay last time either,” he shot a look over at the woman who folded her coat over her arm. “You might want to bring your wallet before you go on any more dates with him,” he said. Her face colored as she walked away. She waved for the sharply dressed man to follow her. Kibutsuji stayed a second longer, his fist clenched ready to punch the chef.

“Go ahead,” Obanai challenged him, smirking behind his paper mask. He could decide if Obanai was egging him on or telling him to follow his date. He decided to follow after his date after scoffing at Obanai. Sometimes his barbed tongue helped deal with shitty customers. He looked at the table right next to the now unoccupied table. It was a couple with their teenage children. 

“I apologize that you had to see that. We’ll be sure to give you complimentary appetizers and desserts for the inconvenience,” he told them. “I prepared a special dessert tonight.” He added sakura mochi to the menu when he was revising it in preparation for tonight. 

“That would be appreciated,” the father said. His partner nodded in agreement and the teenagers simply looked bored. Obanai bowed his head before heading back to his friends. 

“I should get back to the kitchen. I’ll cover your bill,” Obanai relaxed his arms as he approached. Mitsuri began to shake her head. “Consider it a birthday present, Mitsuri,” Obanai said before she could utter a refusal. 

“Thank you,” she accepted. Gyomei leaned forward with his hand resting under his chin, “I can pay for mine.” 

“There’s no need,” Obanai said, softening his tone. “I’ll send out your ramen in a minute. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for coming,” he headed back to the kitchen. He sent out the sakura mochi to the family and then ramen and mochi to Mitsuri and Gyomei. Mitsuri could eat an entire plate of mochi by herself. All in all this had not been the worst night in his career.

Mitsuri watched the scene play out between Obanai and the dissatisfied customer. Her eyes widened realizing who the man was. Luckily, Muzan had not talked or messaged her since the school fair. Back then he attempted to intimidate her, but she would not allow it. Muzan had backed off, but the sense of dread and distaste she felt lingered. His wine red eyes found her as he looked over the other tables. He had the gale to smirk at her, making her skin crawl. 

“That was Muzan, wasn’t it?” Gyomei asked after Obanai returned to the kitchen. He must have recognized his voice.

“Yeah,” Mitsuri confirmed as she continued to eat her meal.

“He was always very cordial. I am surprised he would act like that,” Gyomei commented. Mitsuri pursed her lips, unsure of whether or not to mention how Muzan tried to intimidate her. 

“I’m not. You know how he flirted with me when we first met?” Mitsuri asked and her friend nodded. “Well, he tried to-well, he asked me out at the fair. I rejected him and he was really rude afterward,” Mitsuri simplified the interaction. Gyomei frowned.

“What did he say?” Gyomei asked. Mitsuri looked down at her plate. It was not so much about what he said. He had looked at her like an object, something to own and dominate. He tried to impose himself on her. He backed down after she held her ground, but still. 

“He was just really persistent,” Mitsuri joked to hide her discomfort. She should not have brought it up. “He asked if I was trying to make him jealous and that I should give him a chance. He grabbed my hair and got in my face,” she stalled. That didn’t sound terrible. “He backed off when I told him no again. No big deal.” 

“Mitsuri, I know you don’t like to speak poorly of others,” Gyomei said, “but I wish you would have told me. It sounds like he was being more than persistent.” 

“It’s fine. Muzan hasn’t talked to me since, but he did see us,” Mitsuri said. 

“If he tries to talk to you again, tell me. I have no issue putting him in his place,” Gyomei said. He was always a peaceful person, the edge to his voice just now was uncharacteristic. The vein running along Gyomei’s temple became more prominent as his brow furrowed. “I don’t care for people that try to intimidate others. I know you can take care of yourself, but if you need support I’ll be there,” he added. 

“I know,” Mitsuri reached across the table to hold his hand. Before she could say anything else, a waitress stopped by their table with a bowl of ramen and a plate of ten sakura mochi. 

“These are new to the menu as of tonight,” she said, pointing at the pink and green mochi. Mitsuri rubbed her hands together and grabbed one. “Let us know how you like them.” 

“What are they?” Gyomei asked. 

“Sakura mochi,” Mitsuri said as she placed one in Gyomei’s hand. Her chest felt lighter knowing Obanai sent these out for her. He knew just how to make her feel special without her asking. 

“These are your favorite, aren’t they?” Gyomei questioned. 

“Yep!” Mitsuri snatched one for herself and bit into it. They were as perfect as the ones Obanai usually made for her. The sweet taste mixed with dragonfruit and cherry blossom. Did he use the same recipe?

“He made these for you,” the giant gave her a knowing smile. He didn't even phrase it as a question. Her face flushed, but didn’t deny it. Obanai and her were so obvious, even a blind man could see the affection between them. 

Mitsuri: You added sakura mochi to the menu? 

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri: So, I can order them anytime I want? 

Obanai: Technically, but you have the recipe.

Mitsuri: You used the recipe you made me for Nichirin? 🥺

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri: brb crying 😭

Obanai: Why? 

Mitsuri: You’re the kindest person I ever met! I’m touched that you thought it was good enough to share with Nichirin and its customers. 

Obanai stared at the last text, having read it in her voice. No one had ever called him kind, let alone the kindest. Unless they were being sarcastic. In his dream last night, he heard her say the same thing. He shook his head, dismissing the notion immediately. 

Obanai: I’d never make you anything less than perfect.

Mitsuri: 🥹 You still find new ways to leave me speechless.

Mitsuri sat on the rocking chair holding the newest addition to the Uzui family. The boy had Suma’s black hair and Tengen’s fuschia eyes. Right now they were shut as he slumbered in her arms. Mitsuri volunteered to take him to his room when Suma left to use the bathroom. It gave her an excuse to leave the party for a minute and rest her mind. 

He was wearing the white and gray onesie Mitsuri bought. She had to stop herself from kissing his round, chubby cheeks. Hinastu asked everyone to wash their hands before holding the baby and not to kiss him since he did not have a strong immune system yet. His head turned towards Mitsuri’s chest as he stretched his legs. 

“Big stretch,” Mitsuri whispered to Kannon. He made a soft coo at her, but his eyes remained closed. She loved babies. Especially when they were calm and sleepy like this. “You are so cute,” she murmured and gave a gentle squeeze. Suma walked back in and her eyes lit up seeing her son. 

“I can put him to bed and we can go back to your party,” Suma offered. Mitsuri looked up and shook her head. 

“Can I hold him a little bit longer? He’s so precious and he’ll be bigger the next time I see him,” Mitsuri asked. Suma nodded and sat down in the other chair.

“I love him so much,” Tengen’s youngest wife ran a hand through her son’s raven colored hair. Motherhood suited her. “You look so natural,” Suma commented. 

“I took care of my siblings and my niece when they were babies,” Mitsuri said. “I’ve always loved babies. They’re so small, cute, and sleepy at this age. If you ever want help with him let me know,” Mitsuri adjusted her arm to give Kannon’s head better support. 

“I’d love that,” Suma nodded. “Are you ready to head back?”

“Could you get a picture of us first?” Mitsuri asked. Her phone sat on the changing table. Suma nodded and grabbed it. Mitsuri smiled for the camera as it flashed. Suma took her baby from Mitsuri’s arms and handed her phone back. Mitsuri tried to hide her smile as she looked at her last conversation with Obanai. 

Obanai: 🍬 🐈 🐇🐟 🍭 

Mitsuri: What does that mean?

Obanai: I thought you knew how to read emojis. 

Mitsuri: I do, but you are still learning the way of the emoji. 🙏

Obanai: It’s a clue for your birthday present.
Mitsuri: Do I get any more clues? 

Obanai: No. 

Mitsuri: But it’s my birthday 🙁

Obanai: You’ll like it, I promise. 

Mitsuri sent the picture to Obanai along with some others with her, Kanae, Gyomei, Suma, and the rest of the group. Even though he wasn’t here, she wanted him to feel included. 

Obanai flipped through the images Mitsuri sent him. She looked so happy with their friends and Tengen’s spawn. When he saw the photo of her holding the dark haired baby, he had to pause. Green eyes shined, her hair was pulled to one side in a thick braid, and her smile radiated the warmth of a thousand suns. The baby in her arms slept soundly and the sight pulled at his insides. He could not figure out the emotion the image conjured in his mind. Amused or amazed? He could not tell. 

There was a knock on the door. He set his phone face down on the kitchen table before walking to the front door. He held a hand over his face as he opened the door for Mitsuri. 

“Happy birthday,” Obanai said as she stepped over the threshold to hug him. 

“I missed you,” Mitsuri murmured into his shoulder as she buried her face into him. His arms wrapped around her torso and inhaled her sweet scent. She would be away for two weeks visiting her family, which he was not looking forward to. 

“I missed you too,” he whispered back. She turned her head and kissed his cheek. With the scar tissue, his skin was less sensitive. She squeezed him once before she stepped back. 

“Can I have my gift now?” She asked, standing on the balls of her feet. He nodded and took a package off the entry table. 

“This is one of your gifts,” Obanai said as he handed the package covered in pink wrapping paper. She didn’t even bother to take off her shoes or put her purse on the hook before she ripped open the gift and unboxed it. She pulled out a heavy crystal bowl with a lid.

“A candy bowl? It’s perfect,” Mitsuri beamed and set the bowl on the table. 

“It’s heavier than the last one, so Sushi shouldn’t be able to knock it over,” Obanai explained. Mitsuri took off her shoes to reveal a pair of black and white striped socks and set her purse next to the candy bowl.

“Don’t jinx it,” Mitsuri said quickly and glanced over at the bowl with a slight frown. “She’s still young,” she added in a whisper as if the bowl could hear them. 

“What are you going to name her? Crystal 2.0?” Obanai offered jokingly. Her eyes brightened as she laughed, remscient of wind chimes. He craved to hear it every time they were together. 

“It’s perfect,” Mitsuri grinned at the suggestion. “I dub thee, Crystal 2.0,” she tapped the crystal on the right and left side. Oh no, he should not have suggested it, but her absurd humor drew him in. “So, that explains the candy emojis you sent,” she turned back to him. 

“Partially,” he said and led her to the kitchen. On the stove was a pan of sticky syrup with a set of black sticks beside it and a pair of shears and pliers. Mitsuri tilted her head, staring at the materials. There was a tray of brushes and food coloring on the island directly across from the stove. Obanai walked past the stove and opened one of the cabinets where her second gift rested. He had spent several days trying to craft her the perfect replica of Captain Sushi. The syrup dried quickly. In order to create the cat, he went through nearly twenty versions before he made the one he presented to Mitsuri. The evidence laid in his trash can, or what he now thought of as Sugar Cat Cemetery. 

At first he had been at a loss of what to get Mitsuri for her birthday. When she hardly knew him she took him to a reptile sanctuary on his birthday. She had given him a miniature of Kaburamaru that now sat on the windowsill of Kaburamaru’s bedroom. Though it seemed simple, it meant the world to him. For his birthday, Obanai set low expectations and stayed busy to keep himself from overthinking the implication of being another year older. 

He had to make her birthday special. Online guides said to give gifts related to someone’s interests, which was not helpful since he already knew that. Other sites provided lists of what to give that included necklaces, bracelets, and other accessories. None of them fit the pink haired woman. 

Mitsuri adored her cat, art, and food. They did not exactly mesh well together and he debated buying her several gifts to cater to each interest. He might have peaked when he gave her the sakura mochi recipe or the green socks. Until he recalled amezaiku, the art of candy sculpting. It enchanted him when he first learned about it. He hoped it would be the same for Mitsuri. 

He picked up the wood base holding the candy cat and turned to show Mitsuri. This version of Captain Sushi was sitting down with one paw stretching out to the sky. His black ears pricked forward and his blue-green eyes vibrant against the white sugar. A red stripe running down his back. This gift may seem rudimentary, but she had tackled him for giving her green socks. His hands trembled as he set it on the island next to her. He looked up to watch Mitsuri’s expression. There was still the possibility he fucked up. 

Her lime green eyes sparkled while she covered her mouth with one hand. She squealed, but did not produce any words. She lowered herself to be at eye level with the six centimeter tall Sushi. She pointed at the red stripe and her whole body seemed to wiggle with excitement. 

“It’s Sushi by the way,” Obanai said, rubbing his elbow. Mitsuri glanced up, her eyes softening. 

“He looks amazing, Oba! It’s amezaiku, right?” Mitsuri said.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ve been fascinated by it since I was a teenager. Kyojuro made a list of things I needed to see before going to high school,” he cleared his throat. “My mother didn’t let me out of the house often,” he looked down briefly. In truth, he could count on his fingers and toes how many times he could remember being outside. She said it was for his protection. Another lie. He exhaled deeply before looking up again. He didn’t want to dwell on his mother. She had no place here when he was with Mitsuri. 

“I’d never gone to the beach, so the Rengokus and I went. There was a shop near the beach selling amezaiku. I’d never seen anything like it and watched the shop owner make all sorts of animals. Cats, bunnies, fish, snakes, cranes, and anything you could think of,” he explained, tension pulling in his neck and shoulders. He promised she would like it, but this gift could be a flop. “I took a class in culinary school, so it’s been a few years. I thought I could teach you if you wanted," Obanai gestured to the pan and other materials. 

“Yes, please!” Mitsuri said enthusiastically, nodding her head up and down. She could see Obanai’s shoulders release the tension he had been holding. She looked at the sugar copy of Sushi again. “I want to get a few pictures of him first,” her head buzzed as she pulled out her phone. 

Obanai never failed to amaze her with his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. He had even added the black dots on Sushi’s right back foot. She moved all around the island to capture every angle while Obanai stayed out of view. She sent the photos to her family. When she was done she set her phone down beside Obanai’s on kitchen table. 

“What do we do first?” Mitsuri asked, walking to the stove where Obanai stood. He explained the process started by taking a ping pong sized ball of the sugar syrup, putting it on the black stick, and incorporating air into it, which gave it the white color. Then she could start shaping a creature. In order to make the ears, legs, fins, or tails, she would have to use the shears. Because of the nature of the mixture, it dried quickly. She would only have three minutes max to sculpt. He mentioned minor adjustments could be made with a blow torch, but he did not own one, so she would have to start from scratch if she messed up. 

Obanai took a ball from the pan and started to sculpt. His long, nimble fingers made it seem so easy as he shaped the head of a rabbit and clipped two slits on the top of its head for ears. He pulled the ears back and made a small indent to give the sculpture depth. Next he made the legs to look as if the rabbit was in the middle of jumping. She focused on the small movements in his hands, admiring his coordination. His movements methodical as always and it made her blush knowing exactly what his hands could make of her. Not the time. She chastised herself. 

“Do you think you can do that?” Obanai asked as he set the stick mounted with a white rabbit in a board. He never described himself as artistic, but it was obvious as she stared at his creation. She loved learning about him, the brief glimpses into his mind and past he allowed her to see. “Rabbits are the easiest to make, so you may want to start with one,” he added. 

“Definitely,” Mitsuri grinned. He cut into the syrup and put it on a stick before handing it to her. She stuck her tongue out as she focused on the task. As she pulled on the material to shape the head, she could tell it was already hardening. The mixture was hot to the touch and she worried it might burn herself. She used the shears to cut ears. One of the ears was longer than the other and the other folded over itself. Mitsuri bit her lip and continued with the legs and tail. The front legs were easy to craft, but the back legs were more difficult. One of the back legs looked like a pogo stick as it completely hardened. 

She set her rabbit next to Obanai’s masterpiece. She snorted at the sight. There was a distinct difference between their skill levels. Her rabbit was misshapen and weird proportions while his rabbit could be on display in a museum. 

“Yours is better,” Mitsuri admitted. She poked the straight back leg on her rabbit. 

“I’ve had more practice. You should see all the cats I made before I got to this one,” Obanai pointed at the replica of her cat. “Some of them were truly monstrous.”

“I doubt it. They just needed some extra love and care. I’m sure they were just as cute as this one,” she reassured him. “Even if it had five legs, misshaped limbs, or two heads, it would still be adorable.” He shot her an incredulous glance.

“You’re probably the only one to think that way,” Obanai said, his voice lowered. 

“I’m not the only one,” she countered and stepped in front of him. “There’s an entire art form dedicated to fixing broken pottery with gold called kintsugi. I’m sure you’ve seen it,” she stalled when she realized there was the possibility he had not. His mother kept him sheltered from so many things. Inwardly, she felt sick thinking about how much his mother had done to him. “If you haven’t though, I can show you,” she added. He shook his head and glanced at their mismatched rabbits, a small smile appeared on his face.

“No, I’ve seen it before. The whole idea is to emphasize the flaws and reinforce the broken parts with lacquer and gold or silver,” Obanai said. “I thought it was ridiculous when I learned about it to be honest. What’s broken is broken. It will never be what it once was or could have been. Now though,” he paused, holding her gaze. There was a light behind his gold and teal eyes. She licked her lips and felt her face heating up with the intensity of his gaze. “I realize it doesn’t have to remain the same. If it stayed as it was it would never be able to develop.” 

“If things never changed, they could not change for the better,” Mitsuri nodded in agreement and reached up to touch his face. She could feel the grooved scar lines. They were not just talking about pottery or the sugar sculptures. He once told her he was broken. Because of his anxiety, depression, and past abuse, he said he could not be with her. Since then she noticed the subtle differences in him. He still had his moments where he tensed up or had difficulty expressing himself, but he was revealing more of himself to her with each conversation. She adored him. She always had, but she loved seeing how he was changing. He was braver, willing to accept help, and more open with her and their friends. 

“Mitsuri, I want to tell you something,” Obanai’s lip twitched. His hand reached up to take her hand away from her face and intertwined their fingers. Fitting perfectly together. She took one step closer as his earnest look drew her in. “I wrote you a haiku,” he said before clearing his throat. 

“One more year passes. With every turn of the sun. Your light glows brighter,” Obanai recited. Her heart fluttered and she could feel tears threatening to leak. Mitsuri blinked quickly and felt her throat tightening as an emotion overwhelmed her. She did not know who to thank for Obanai existing. His existence was enough to make her happy. 

“You deserve to be celebrated,” Obanai said, repeating the words she said on his birthday. She thought it had sounded silly at the time, but hearing him say it? That was something else entirely. She looked between his eyes and his lips before leaning forward to kiss him. On his birthday, she had held herself back, but now he had her whole heart precariously resting in his hands. He kissed her back as he ran a hand through her hair. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. Her mind kept singing and buzzing. Her past told her to wait. The possibility of falling without a safety net. There was also the possibility he wouldn’t fall with her. Reaching out for him, only to hit the dirt. The fear he would pull away from her when she confessed. She had always laid her cards out too soon and got hurt or broken up with. He had pulled away before, which made her hesitate. She wouldn’t risk it, not when she saw the future in his mismatched eyes.

Chapter Text

Early to Mid June

The day after Mitsuri’s birthday she woke to Obanai’s face within inches of hers. The memories of last night made her warm. Every inch of her body tingled remembering the way he touched her. She blushed recalling what she said. 

“Touch me like I’m the only thing you’ve ever wanted,” she dared him. Something flashed behind his eyes before his lips were on her neck, teeth grazing her pulse. One hand gripped her hip while the other intertwined with hers against the wall. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted,” he breathed huskily just below her right ear and her knees nearly gave out. They would have if Obanai had not pinned her to the wall. His words were intense if not possessive. She adored it, making her believe they were something more. That they had a future. 

Mitsuri smiled as a few strands of dark hair fell across his face as he nuzzled into the pillow, tucking one hand under it. Morning light filtered through the partially closed curtain. He was beautiful. Serene and peaceful as he slumbered. Mitsuri didn’t wish to wake him, but her family was expecting her in a few hours with Sushi. 

Maybe one day Obanai would join her to meet her parents and siblings. Once Obanai was comfortable with everyone, they would adore him. The thought was fanciful, but why couldn’t she dream? She met his father and brothers already. 

“Oba,” she spoke softly. Her hand touched his cheek, thumb smoothing over the old scars. He opened his eyes wide, disoriented at first, but then relaxed realizing it was Mitsuri. She scooted closer so their noses touched. “Oba,” she repeated, “Can we have breakfast?” 

“In a second,” Obanai said before pulling her into his arms. Their bodies flush against each other. She had not even bothered to put on clothes before falling asleep. “I want to enjoy this a moment longer,” he rasped, holding her tight as if he were afraid she would vanish in the morning light. Her heart trembled and her mind was weightless. 

“How does it feel?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. Obanai looked away from the psychologist’s finger that he had been following for the last 30 minutes. It was the last eye movement desensitization and reprocessing session. He blinked several times before responding, allowing his eyes to readjust to the light and shapes in the room. He focused on the coffee table, taking in the tray of sand and tiny rake. There were other fidget toys litter across the table including a stress ball with a smiley face and a spinner. 

This session was spent recalling his first suicide attempt following the incident. The emotions were dull compared to the previous overwhelming sense of shame and self loathing that used to accompany the memories. He rubbed his left eye and forced it to focus on the therapist.

“Different. Lighter almost?” Obanai questioned trying to decipher exactly what he was feeling. “Whenever I used to think about the incident and my suicide attempt, I always felt my mother and cousins hands digging their nails into me, trying to pull me down to the ashes. I felt heavy, as if I was trying to walk through mud or slipping on stairs. I’d crawl, but never made any progress.” 

“You’ve mentioned this before. You said you used to, so is that feeling gone or something else?” Dr. Ubuyashiki nodded as he shifted in his seat. He leaned forward in the chair, showing his interest. Lavender eyes appraised the chef’s reaction. 

“I don’t feel like they’re pulling me down. They’ll always be in the back of my mind. Their deaths-It was an accident. Technically, I am responsible, but I never should have been put in that position,” Obanai sighed and set his elbows on his knees, bending his head down in thought. “I can’t forget them, not completely, but they’re not holding me back. I won’t let them.” 

“Hold you back from what?” Dr. Ubuyashiki prompted. 

“Living. You mentioned I hurt myself to keep them alive and you were right. I’m ready to put them to rest, so I can live my own life. My cousin has moved on, I want the same,” Obanai admitted. “I don’t want to live with the fear and pain I’ve endured since my childhood,” he met Dr. Ubuyashiki’s earnest gaze. The psychologist smiled at him giving him time to continue. 

They sat in silence for a moment, assessing each other. There was finality in what Obanai said. He wanted to live a life free from the restraints of his past. The demons of guilt and shame slowly faded away. Sunlight peeked through the lattice prison he built, offering a glimpse of the future he never allowed himself to believe in. One day soon he would walk out of the shadows and into the sun.

“I want to be a normal man without the demons clouding every decision,” Obanai explained.

“You’ve come a long way,” Dr. Ubuyashiki reflected, glancing at the clock. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss? Akira or Mitsuri?”  

Obanai grimaced at the mention of Akira. He still had not received a call before from his biological father. It had only been a few days, but surely he would have gotten the message by now. If Akira decided not to call, Obanai would have to let it go. It was out of his control and he had to accept that. He inhaled deeply. 

“I called Akira last Friday, but I haven’t heard anything back. It took me a while to figure out what to say. He might be having the same issue given the circumstances. There’s no guidebooks to explain how to navigate a long lost child or father,” Obanai bit his cheek. 

“No, there’s not. It's a step forward by reaching out. What do you want from him?” The therapist crossed his legs and placed one hand under his chin. 

“Answers. At least what happened between my mother and him and what he knew about my mother before I was born,” Obanai tapped his knee. 

“And what if the answer is not what you’re hoping for?” Dr. Ubuyashiki inquired softly. Obanai sighed and glanced down at his phone flipped face down on the couch cushion beside him. 

“Then… Then I’ll have to accept it. My mother told me he left when he found out she was pregnant, but that doesn’t seem to be the full truth. Because of that, Akira never mattered. I never felt the need to meet someone who didn’t give a damn about me. When he showed up that changed things,” he tapped each finger in sequence on the couch cushion. He would never be rid of this nervous tick.

“Knowing what happened between them would help me understand the woman that raised me. Maybe she told me the truth and Akira is actually the asshole she made him out to be,” Obanai admitted. 

“We won’t know until he calls back,” the light eyed man said. 

“If he calls,” Obanai corrected him, “There’s no guarantee.”

“He saw a picture of you on a food blog and decided to go to your restaurant just to see you, Obanai. He will call back,” he reassured. The chef nodded in acceptance. Obanai always expected the worst in people. Mitsuri told him Akira would call and he trusted her.  

Obanai looked at the paper mask beside his phone. He assigned rippling water as a special ringtone to Akira’s contact information, so he would not have to be constantly worrying if every call he got was from the man. Admittedly, not many people called him. Mitsuri called him the most, especially the last few days while she was with her family. She called him twice just to hear his voice. She fell asleep last night when they were talking. He heard her snoring on the other end. Mitsuri was adorable. Her soft deposition put him at ease. 

“As for Mitsuri, I think I’m ready to tell her about the fire and my family. Once she comes back from her parents, I want to tell her. Though I am terrified of how she’ll respond, I have to let her know my past if I want a future with her. She’s the most accepting person I’ve ever met and I am hopeful we could-” Obanai paused before adding quietly. “Could be happy together.” 

His temperature rose as he confessed. The older man already knew Obanai loved her, it was not a stretch of the imagination for Obanai to wish for a future. Dr. Ubuyashiki smiled wider and leaned back in his chair. 

“A year ago, you sat on my couch saying you didn’t know what you wanted from life. You lived each day aimlessly, just trying to get by. It was to be expected with your dissociation and depression. You avoided social gatherings because of your anxiety. There were several times you were invited to a party, but when you got there you’d leave. You’re looking towards the future, Obanai,” The therapist set aside his clipboard and set it on the coffee table. “I have a task for you. Visit your mother’s old property and finally put your family to rest. Write a letter to your mother and family. Think of it as closure.”

“Closure,” he repeated the word, heavy with lead and filling his stomach with unease. Had he not just said he wanted to put his family to rest? It seemed so final. His heart rate increased slightly. This was just another homework assignment. His lips twitched and his brow furrowed. 

His family’s land was outside of town. He could go there anytime he wanted to theoretically, but he had not gone in sixteen years. After the report from the private investigator, Obanai looked up who owned the property. It had been his uncle and aunt’s land originally, so Kiwa took ownership when she turned eighteen years old. His mother never owned it. She acted as his cousins’ guardian and managed the property until the oldest reached adulthood. His oldest cousin died before she was eighteen. The scars pulled taut over his face as he thought about them. 

“You don’t have to go. It is not a requirement. However, you said you were ready to tell Mitsuri about the past,” the therapist spoke softly. “Think of this as a test. You want to move on, Obanai. Go back where it started. Confront all the pain and hurt and let go of it.”

The therapy assignments normally made Obanai stretch past his self imposed boundaries. This one forced him to go back to the site of the incident. The property wasn’t developed and sat in the middle of nowhere. The nearest house was miles away, past the sloping hills and gravel road. 

The cement basement that held his old room may still exist. He shuttered thinking of the times his mother locked him in there for two or three days at a time. Dropping off food and water for him in the night. Her fingertips tapped on the door before he heard the click of the lock turning. When he was younger he would run to the door, crying to be let out, his stomach empty. But he couldn’t eat the rich, oily food she left because it made him vomit. His stomach had always been sensitive to rich foods which was why he preferred bland or bitter meals. 

“You know you’re asking me to trespass on private property, right?” He asked. 

“I never said that specifically. It’s merely a suggestion,” Dr. Ubuyashiki gave him a small smile as he set his notes on the table.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Obanai promised despite the prickling at the back of his neck. There was another question he had to ask before he left. “Do you have any relation to the Kibutsuji family?” the chef asked recalling the pompous carmine eyed man from Nichirin. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki stiffened and closed his light colored eyes before answering, “I do. Why do you ask?” 

“I met a man who looked similar to you, but with red eyes and wavy hair,” Obanai waved a hand over his face. “He said he was from the Kibutsuji family.” 

“His name is Muzan,” the therapist opened his eyes and folded his arms in front of his chest. “He’s my cousin. What was your impression of him?” 

“Pompus and entitled,” Obanai answered without thinking and opened his mouth to backtrack. He heard the name Muzan before, but he could not recall where or when. It left a metallic-almost bitter taste in his mouth. 

“You’re not wrong. He’s from the main branch of the family. Everything was handed to him,” the other man’s gentle demeanor shifted. 

“I gathered. He came to Nichirin and harassed my staff,” Obanai explained. “I’ve kicked him out twice and banned him from the restaurant. I don’t understand how the two of you could be related considering how different you are.” 

“We do not get along. We’re cordial, but it’s all surface level,”  he pursed his lips, contemplating how far to take the conversation. “I would not associate with him if I had the choice.” 

Choice? It was an odd word to use. Obanai squinted as the therapist’s facial expression changed. Normally, Dr. Ubuyashiki’s expression was open, calm, and inviting, but now it was stiff and irritating. “Why wouldn’t you have the ‘choice’?” he prompted. 

“I go to attend Kibutsuji family meetings. Muzan is there. He makes it a point to brag about whatever he fancies and flaunts his wealth,” Dr. Ubuyashiki gritted his teeth as his lavender eyes darkened. “He’ll use whatever means necessary to get what he wants. Honestly, he is just an entitled prick, with too much money and no restraints-” the therapist stopped abruptly as his fist clenched at his side in a rare show of anger. 

“I apologize. I don’t normally discuss personal matters with clients. It’s unprofessional and inappropriate,” he smoothed his shoulder length hair, trying to regain his composure. 

“You’re only human,” Obanai said calmly as he stood up to leave. “We both are. No one expects you to be perfect, Dr. Ubuyashiki.”

There he was. Her ex fiance stood in the middle of the aisle picking between two boxes of cereal. He read the nutrition labels, no doubt picking the healthier option. Her mother asked her to run back to this aisle to find Megumi’s apple cinnamon oatmeal. Now, she was frozen in place. She knew seeing Kyo was a possibility, but she had not expected it to be in a grocery store of all places. 

Kyo towered over her at 181 centimeters. He had dark brown hair and wore round glasses that he had a habit of pushing up every minute. Mitsuri winced as she remembered his harsh words. He pitied her. She was an ugly, disgusting pig. She would be a horrible mother to ugly children with pink and green hair. Who would ever want her? She shook her head trying to banish the negative thoughts. 

“Mitsuri,” Kyo greeted her. His dark eyes gleamed behind his round glasses. “You look…,” he commented. She wanted to turn and run the other way. Today she wore a lime green romper with matching sandals. He hated when she dressed so flashy and eccentric. According to him, it made her look childish. “Well fed. It's a shame you let yourself go,” he glanced at her up and down. His gaze felt slimy now as his eyes stopped at her hips and thighs. She could already tell what he was thinking. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” he feigned sympathy. 

Her face flushed in embarrassment. He still saw her as a thing instead of a person. 

Who would want a woman with such chubby thighs? Kyo asked her once. You look ridiculous. Go change. 

What had she ever seen in him? She looked down at the floor as she tightened her fist at her side. Kyo only wanted someone to control and manipulate. He had told her he loved her and she believed it in her naivety. She was under the impression she had to change everything about herself so he would love her. She had been so desperate to be loved back then. 

Mitsuri made herself smaller to appeal to his desires. He never loved her. He never deserved her. Ultimately, his opinion no longer mattered. Why should she waste time worrying about how he perceived her when she didn’t respect him? She brought her head up and straightened her shoulders, the ones he said were too broad and masculine. Her green eyes narrowed on him. What would Obanai say? 

“It’s a shame you can’t fix your receding hairline,” Mitsuri countered. Was that too mean? There was no time to second guess herself. Kyo opened his mouth, surprised by her snide reply. She smiled sweetly at him, “I’d say it was a pleasure to see you, but well, we know it would be a lie.” Mitsuri reached around him to pluck the apple cinnamon oatmeal off the shelf while Kyo processed what she said. She turned and danced her way back to the check line where her mother stood.

Mitsuri: I saw my ex at the store. 

Obanai frowned when he saw the message. Her ex was a complete and utter ass who made her second-guess who she was. If Obanai ever met the man, he would have a hard time not throwing him to the ground and forcing him to apologize to Mitsuri. He wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her. 

Obanai: Did you tell him to go fuck himself?

Mitsuri: Not quite. 

Obanai: Then what did you say? 

Mitsuri: My ex said, “It’s a shame you let yourself go.” I asked what you would say to him and told him, “It’s a shame you can’t fix your receding hairline.” 

He paused before smirking as he imagined her face turning red before insulting her ex. She stood up for herself. Good for her. 

Obanai: That’s better than ‘Fuck you’.

Mitsuri: Really? 

Obanai: Yes. 

Mitsuri: ☺️

The first week Mitsuri was home passed by quickly. She stayed in her old room with her youngest sister, Hinata. Now that Mitsuri had her own house it seemed so cramped in the room. Plus, Hinata made it her own space with posters of Beach Bunny and Olivia Rodrigo on the wall. Her parents worked during the day and her two youngest siblings were at school. It was their last week before summer break. 

She spent the mornings sleeping in and then going to visit her other siblings who were still in town. Meesha worked from home, so Mitsuri would go over and watch her niece, Suki. Another time she went to her brother’s condo and spent the day with Ren and his boyfriend. Her middle brother was staying the summer in his town college where he had an internship for marketing. 

Now, it was Saturday and she was sitting in her parents’ kitchen baking cookies with her mother, Fumiko. Mitsuri studied her mother’s face. There were more wrinkles on her face along the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was a mother to six children and she never seemed phased by anything. Fumiko hummed to herself an older song from Mitsuri’s childhood song as she used a spoon to press down on tablespoon sized balls of cookie dough. Mitsuri held a bowl of sweetened red bean paste and scooped it into the center of the flattened dough. 

“Be careful not to add too much or we can’t close them,” her mother gave her a gentle reminder. Mitsuri flashed her a smile, she always told her the same thing when they made manju. It was a tradition to make these cookies every weekend when Mitsuri was in middle school. Just her and her mom. Hinata and Megumi were out with friends and her father was sleeping in. 

“Yes, mom,” Mitsuri chirped and finished the rest. Fumiko and Mitsuri folded the cookies over to seal them before placing them on baking sheets and then in the oven. Her mother set a timer. She took a picture and sent it to Obanai, Kanae, and fellow teachers. Obanai was the first to respond. 

Obanai: What are those? 

Mitsuri: Manju! 

Obanai: I’ve never had them.

Mitsuri: You’d like them! I'll save you some! 😄

Obanai: They would be stale in a week. 

Mitsuri: Right… We could bake them when I come back. 

Obanai: Sure. 🙂

Mitsuri smiled at her phone. Obanai seldomly used emojis, so it brought her joy whenever he did. 

“Who is it? You have that smile on your face,” her mother said as her eyes crinkled. 

“What smile?” Mitsuri asked. 

“The one you have when you like someone. It’s hard to miss when you’re grinning ear to ear,” Fumiko teased her. Mitsuri flushed knowing her mother could read her face as easily as a picture book.  

“Oh, it’s my friend,” she paused. “Obanai.”

“Which one is he?” The older woman asked. Her dark hair was starting to grey. 

“He’s the best man for Kanae’s wedding,” Mitsuri explained. “The chef.”

“Ah, is he the one you’ve been calling before you go to bed?” she asked. Mitsuri’s color deepened and bobbed her head up and down. She felt like she was in middle school again talking about her newest crush. “Do you have a picture of him?” Her mom asked. 

“Yes,” Mitsuri started looking through her albums. There were so many pictures of Sushi, her classroom, Kanae’s wedding dress, bridesmaid dresses, and food. She paused on the images from the hot springs trip. She took a picture with Obanai, Kanae, and Sanemi right before their hike. They stood in a line where Kanae and Sanemi wrapped around each other while Mitsuri and Obanai stood close together. Makio had caught her laughing at something Obanai whispered into her ear. She turned the brightness up on her phone and slid it over to her mother.

She squinted her eyes as she focused on the photo. Mitsuri touched her face, self conscious about how her mother would perceive his other features, especially the black surgical mask. “I don’t think I have ever seen someone with two different colored eyes. It’s striking,” Fumiko said. “Do you have any pictures without the mask?” 

“No, he wears them all the time,” Mitsuri answered. “He has scars on his face that he doesn’t like others to see. He says they’re grotesque.” Mitsuri traced where his scars were over her own face.  Her mother met her gaze, studying her eldest child. 

“You know appearances don’t matter,” Fumiko started. “All that matters is how he treats you.” 

“I know.” she swallowed. “Obanai is…” How could she possibly put into words how much much she adored him? “He made me the amezaiku of Sushi, the sakura mochi, and took care of me when I twisted my ankle back in October. He cooks the most amazing food, which shouldn’t be a surprise considering he’s a chef,” Mitsuri kept talking. She told herself to stop, but she’s been holding onto these feelings for a while now. 

“He’s so sweet and honest. He helped me with the mural and jump started my car. With Kanae's wedding, he’s been my go to person when I get overwhelmed or stressed. He’s calm and kind. Oh and he has a snake!” Mitsuri took her phone back to find a picture of Kaburamaru. She found the one from New Years with her leaning against Obanai’s shoulder, Obanai staring at her, and Kaburamaru’s tongue darting out in approval of his New Year’s hat. 

“His name is Kaburamaru and Obanai rescued him from a dumpster when he was younger,” the pinked haired woman continued. “He’s a rat snake and likes to curl over Obanai’s shoulders when he can. It’s so sweet-” Fumiko’s dark green eyes flickered to the image. 

“He likes you,” her mother stated. “You can tell just by the way he looks at you. It’s the same way your father looks at me.” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “If you haven’t told him yet, you should.”

“He knows,” Mitsuri blurted out. “He makes me really happy, mom. So happy, I’m worried I’ll ruin it if I rush it. We’re not official, but we’ve been seeing each other.” She covered her mouth, she shouldn’t have said that, yet she kept talking. “The timing is off. He has a lot going on and I don’t want to interfere with anything. It’s not the right time.” Fumiko smiled at her words.

“There’s never going to be a right time. Life never stops long enough to give you the right time. If you’re with someone, they should make you stronger, happier, and wiser to deal with anything life throws at you,” Fumiko said. “I should have told you that when you were with Kyo…I’m sorry I didn’t.” Fumiko pursed her lips and held her daughter’s hands. 

“My mother told me to break up with your father multiple times because he ‘wasn’t going to amount to anything’. That never mattered to me. We’ve been happily married for 27 years with six beautiful children. I promised to never interfere with my children’s relationships like my mother did. I’m sorry I didn’t speak up when you were dating Kyo.” Her mother rubbed her eyes. 

“It’s alright.” Mitsuri pulled her mom into a hug. “If I didn’t date him, I wouldn’t have left home. I love you and everyone, but I think moving helped me grow. I have a job that I love, friends I would die for, and someone I think I could spend my life with.” She squeezed her mom a bit tighter before the timer went off for the cookies. They parted and her mother took the cookies out of the oven. 

“Do you truly believe he could be the one?” Fumiko asked. Mitsuri nodded in confirmation. “I’m happy for you. You should ask him to be your date for the wedding.” Mitsuri opened her mouth ready to protest, but then stopped. 

“I’ll think about it. I don’t want to ruin what we have by rushing it,” Mitsuri said. 

“If he’s the one, you won’t ruin it,” her mother replied and Mitsuri felt her heart warm. Her mother knew exactly what to say to ease Mitsuri’s anxious mind. 

“I’ll think about it,” Mitsuri said, grabbing a hot cookie off the sheet. 

Obanai: What are your plans next Sunday? 

Sanemi: Seeing my family with Kanae for dinner.

Obanai: Before that?

Sanemi: Nothing. Did you want to do something?

Obanai: I am going to visit my family’s old property, do you want to come? 

The next second Sanemi was calling. Obanai answered. 

“Why the fuck do you want to go to your family’s old place?” Sanemi asked straight out of the gate. He never beat around the bush with his abrasive behaviors. Obanai glanced over at the kettle beginning to boil on his stove. 

“Closure,” Obanai started. “You said you would help if I asked for it, so this is me asking. If you don’t want to come, I will go by myself.” Silence followed before he heard a deep sigh. 

“No shit?” Sanemi asked. 

“No shit,” Obanai said nonchalantly. They did not need to say much to each other. To this day they could go weeks without speaking to each other, but when they met up and talked nothing changed. Sanemi had been a constant in Obanai’s life. Neither man asked much from the other. 

“Hell yeah, I’ll come,” Sanemi asked. “Do you want to come over to my mom’s place afterward? It’s been forever since you’ve seen her and others.” The kettle started screaming and Obanai picked it up and poured the boiling water over the green tea leaves. 

When he first met Sanemi’s mother, he watched her carefully, making sure to keep her in his line of sight at all times. He wanted to ensure she never took him off guard. Slowly, he learned she was kind and hardworking, but even then she was a woman and they could not be trusted. Not when he was a teenager. 

“Maybe. It will depend on how the visit goes,” Obanai replied. 

Sanemi’s mother and sisters frightened him originally. All women did. When he and the white haired man met, Sanemi made fun of Obanai’s mannerisms and said they reminded him of his sisters. Obanai shut his eyes. The only role models he had were women so he mirrored them. He would cross his legs, touch his face when speaking, and lock his ankles together when he sat. At 14 years old, he had access to the internet and learned how to navigate Google and Youtube videos about body language and mannerisms. It took time to retrain himself how to behave as more conventionally masculine by watching his father, brothers, and other men. It was a tedious process. After a few months, Sanemi never brought it up again. 

“Fair enough. Sunday afternoon then. Think you can drive us?” Sanemi asked. 

“Yes, I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the woods.” Obanai smirked when he heard Sanemi groan on the other end. Their junior year of high school Obanai, Sanemi, and his brothers went camping for a weekend. Sanemi took them off trail and got them lost in the forest. Kyojuro and Obanai had to figure out how to find their campsite. 

“It was one time,” his best friend reminded him. 

“All it takes is one time. A tiger could have gotten us,” he said blankly. 

“Tigers don’t roam the woods here,” Sanemi said with irritation. 

“One could have escaped the zoo. We don’t know,” Obanai maintained a dry tone, waiting for Sanemi to get fed up with the ridiculous notion and hang up. Maybe Tengen was onto something by messing with Sanemi. No, Tengen wasn’t right about anything. 

“Obi, fuck off,” Sanemi ordered and hung up. Sanemi used the old nickname to get under Obanai’s skin, but it failed to work. Obanai laughed lightly as he removed the tea filter from the mug. His phone buzzed. 

Sanemi: You’re still driving us. Pick me after 11 A.M. if you want me to be of any use. 

Obanai: Sure. I’ll bring a compass just in case.

Sanemi: 🖕

Obanai: 🖕

Sunday afternoon, Mitsuri sat on the floor with her sisters, Meesha and Hinata, and her niece, Suki. Meesha invited Mitsuri and Hinata over to play with Suki. She would be going home tomorrow. They were stacking rainbow colored rings in the living room. Suki clapped her hands together when she placed the smallest ring over the wooden peg. 

“Good job, Suki,” Mitsuri praised the girl with pigtails. Meesha and Hinata clapped for the one year old. Her niece’s light green eyes flickered over to her with a smile before walking towards her on wobbly legs. She sat down in Mitsuri’s lap and stared at her mother and aunts. 

“It’s nice to have you back,” Meesha said. “Suki and I missed you. You’re her favorite aunt,” she said.

 “What am I then?” Hinata frowned.

“The spare,” Meesha answered with a grin. Hinata pushed her older sister’s shoulder while Meesha extended her arm backwards to stop herself from falling over. It didn’t work. Mitsuri smiled at the two. She missed seeing them almost every day and watching Suki grow up. She had only been a few months when Mitsuri moved away. Now she was walking, a bit shaky, but walking nonetheless and vocalizing her needs for food, mom, dad, or their kitty. 

“I’m trying to persuade Mitsuri to move home,” Meesha said as Hinata successfully wrestled her to the ground. The dark haired mother held up her hands and Hinata moved away from her. “Suki is the key to getting her to move back. No one can resist Suki’s charm,” Meesha said as she turned her head to Mitsuri and her daughter. The girl giggled as if she understood what her mother said. Mitsuri tickled the girl’s sides. 

“I can’t move back. I already signed my teaching contract for another year. I cannot break it, nor do I want to. I love my coworkers and students and my boss is open to my ideas to improve the school,” Mitsuri explained. “Plus, I extended my lease for six months. I wouldn’t be able to pay rent for two places.” 

“You could move back in with mom and dad,” Meesha offered. 

“No way.” Hinata shook her head, “I am not sharing my room again. The last two weeks have been more than enough to remind me how horrible it is to share a room with you. You snore so loudly.” The youngest Kanroji pointed a finger at Mitsuri, “I’m lucky to get three hours of sleep with you around.” 

Mitsuri covered her mouth in mock horror, “Rude! I don’t snore.”

“You do!” Hinata countered and then mimicked an obnoxious snore. 

“Do not!” Mitsuri said, reverting back to their old argument. 

“You do too and I can prove it!” Hinata shifted and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “I have video evidence.”

“Nope, Obanai would have said something,” Mitsuri denied it again. Meesha sat up quickly and tilted her head, an impish grin on her face. Her interest piqued. 

“Obanai? How would Obanai know if you snore or not?” Meesha asked, not missing a beat. Her sister raised an eyebrow. Hinata’s thumb hovered over her phone screen, but stopped at the mention of Obanai. Mitsuri had mentioned the raven haired chef multiple times over the past year-Had they known each other for a year? No, they only met last August. It just felt longer. Mitsuri’s face heated up. 

“Umm,” Mitsuri started, “I’ve napped at his place a few times?” She ran her hand over her right braid and played with the lime colored ends. She was always a terrible liar, especially with her family. They knew her their entire lives. 

“Oh, I see.” Meesha rested her head in her hand and waited for Mitsuri to expand. Mitsuri shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Meesha would call her out immediately if she tried to lie. “He’s the friend,” Meesha raised hands to make quotation marks, “who made you sakura mochi, right?”

Mitsuri nodded and swallowed. Her mother already knew, maybe she should just tell her sisters? It’s not like they have any ties to Kanae or the friend group. 

“He’s also the one you spent New Year’s Eve with?” Another nod. Meesha’s dark eyes sparked with amusement. “And where exactly do you take these naps? In his bed or elsewhere?” Hinata chuckled when she saw the eldest Kanroji’s entire face turn red. Mitsuri looked down and covered one side of her face. “I don’t think I’d tell the person I nap with if they snore either,” Meesha finished. 

“It’s not appropriate to talk about this in front of Suki,” Mitsuri tried to curb their conversation. Meesha and Hinata gave her pointed looks. Did Meesha have the air conditioner on? A bead of sweat formed on her brow. 

“We’re only talking about napping. How would that be inappropriate?” Meesha asked, glancing at her daughter. The girl flashed her mother a smile. Mitsuri thought she missed her sisters, but maybe not as much as she thought with the way they tag teamed to bully her. 

“Yeah, it’s only napping. So, what else are you two doing?” Hinata prompted with raised brows. This was her youngest sister, who used to blush at the mention of the cute boy across the street. There was no way Mitsuri could talk about this with her. 

Mitsuri looked away. She toyed with a loose thread, looking down at the yellow and white daisy shorts Suki wore. Too bad they were not at their parents’ home, she could pretend her mother was calling her. 

“We’re dating. Can we leave it at that?” Mitsuri pleaded with them, but Meesha shook her head. 

“No way. This is the first person you’ve dated since Kyo. You’ve been here for two weeks and you have not mentioned him once. Why haven’t you said anything?” Meesha asked. 

“We’re taking it slow,” she said. If slow meant she was hopelessly in love with the chef and daydreamed about waking up every morning to his kind eyes, listening to his breathing, inhaling the scent of his fresh sheets, and running her hands through his long, silky black hair. Then yes, they were taking it slow.

“Are you taking him to the wedding?” Hinata piped up, scooting closer to Mitsuri.

“No, he’s a groomsman, so he’s already invited,” Mitsuri explained. Her mother said she should ask if he wanted to be her date to the wedding. Hinata and Meesha shared a look. 

“You should ask him anyway,” Meesha said. “How cute would that be? The maid of honor and a groomsman together?” She clapped her hands together. Suki crawled over to her mother, babbling. “See? Even Suki thinks you should ask.” Mitsuri laughed as her niece continued to make incoherent noises. 

It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? It was a month and a half away. He wouldn’t have to answer immediately. She never wanted to pressure him into something, not when he was prone to running away.  A small part of her hoped they would go to the wedding together as a couple even before her mother and siblings suggested it.

“Mom said the same thing,” she said. “Maybe I will.” Even though Mitsuri grew more comfortable with their relationship, she was terrified what would happen if the answer was no. She pulled on one of her braids. Their relationship was not going anywhere if neither person said what they wanted. She had to be the one to ask. 

Obanai felt his veins beginning to frost over the closer he got to his family’s old property. There would be nothing there. The house burned down and after sixteen years there would be nothing left except the foundation and the basement’s cement walls where he spent most of his childhood. His hand was glued to the steering wheel and he could see the veins on the back of his hand and forearms. 

“So, other than moving on, what’s the point of coming out here? It’s not like anything is left,” Sanemi asked, looking out the window. His elbow rested on the passenger door as he laid his head in his hand. 

“My therapist said it was a test to see whether or not I am,” Obanai paused, “able to confront the past. I’ve been trying to process the last night I saw my family. It’s symbolic more than anything. This will help me figure out if therapy worked or not.” His eyes focused on the road as he took the next exit. From that exit, he would have to drive a few kilometers down a gravel road. He escaped on this road. His feet tingled as he recalled the way they burned with each stride away from the house. Here the trees were thick and heavy, casting shadows over the road. 

“Hmm, I never got symbolism,” Sanemi hummed and scanned the forest. The man beside him was a concrete thinker who excelled in arithmetic and logic problems. “How will you know if it worked?”

“I’m not sure,” Obanai answered honestly with a shrug. “The idea of coming here used to petrify me, but now it seems more like a chore if that makes any sense.”

“Sort of. I remember hating walking past the garage door even after my dad died,” Sanemi said with a grumble. Many of the beatings Sanemi’s father gave him were in the garage away from the other children. “Time heals all wounds, right?” the white haired man asked rhetorically. “Your family must have had money. My company has wanted to develop it for years, but the owner refused every offer. I never thought you were connected. Your cousin is the owner, right?” 

Obanai nodded. Technically, they would be trespassing on the property. Though there was nothing there of value. Ashes and forgotten memories did not count. Kiwa would never hire any type of surveillance or security for the empty plot. It would be nonsensical. 

They were quiet the rest of the ride. Obanai slowed down his Jeep as they came to a clearing overgrown with tall grass and weeds. It was marked by the end of the poorly maintained gravel road. There was a singular mailbox in the middle of the clearing. This was it. He parked the car and looked out. 

There was the basement that held his old bedroom. He turned off the car. “You can come or stay here. It should only be a few minutes,” the dark haired man said as he opened his door. 

“I’ll stand outside. If you need anything just yell,” Sanemi said as he opened his own door. Obanai bobbed his head once in acknowledgement and walked towards the foundation. His blood vessels started frosting over with each step, steeling himself from the pain and fear.

He stood at the top of the cement walls and stared down. It was a rectangular shape and smaller than he recalled. The drywall decayed over the years of harsh weather leaving behind a nondescript pit. There were steps leading down, but they hadn’t been maintained or treated in years. 

He gulped as he saw the dark wood stairs. Several pieces were missing. These were the same stairs he crept up in order to escape. He imagined a boy with long dark hair walking up the stairs with his hand ghosting over the wall for balance, cautiously going up one step at a time. He could not make a sound if he wanted to escape. The violence was bound to escalate after her mother ripped open his face. 

The steps held a stew of memories. The third step from the bottom creaked whenever someone walked down. Most commonly it was a warning that his mother or cousins were coming to torment him. His cousins whispered at the top of the stairs, too quiet for him to make out the words, but loud enough to keep him awake. They would throw toys and whatever they had down the steps when he was locked in his room to bully him. His mother would scold them. Ironic since she had been the one to throw him down the exact same steps, breaking his arm and ribs. The steps remained. A testament to his freedom after a lifetime of abuse. 

He forced himself to look away. Beyond the stairs, the basement floor was composed of dirt, rubble, and overgrowth. Weeds sprouted up. Obanai pulled the letter from his back pocket. He expected his family’s burnt arms to reach out of the ground with their ash encrusted nails just to drag him down by digging into his skin. It didn’t happen. The knowledge dropped a weight from his shoulders. Obanai braced himself to feel the fear and pain of the past, but it wasn’t there. He inhaled deeply before unfolding the letter. It had taken a week to write. Obanai sat down and took off his face mask. 

“Mother,” he started. “I came to say goodbye. I’ve carried you and my cousins everywhere I went for the past sixteen years. I'm sorry for what happened here. Running away, the fire, and your death. For years, I told myself it was all my fault, but that’s not true. I was a child. I couldn’t be expected to cater to your every need. I should not have been forced to placate your hatred for the man who left you. You resented him and took it out on me. All you could see when you looked at me was him because of my hair and eyes. I was your child too.” 

He looked away from the letter and bitterness built inside. His jaw tensed thinking about the time she pushed him against a wall and her fist in his hair, threatening to pull it out. He was six years old and asked what his father’s name was. 

“You don’t need to know. He left us, Obanai. He doesn't care about you or me. He’s worthless. Why do you want to know about him?” Her hand tangled in his hair and words chilled him. Now they were an old memory. She lied so many times. 

“I will never understand how you could have done that to a child, especially your own. I met Akira by the way,” Obanai explained. “You were right, I look almost exactly like him. We have the same face, eyes, nose, but I have your mouth. The one you decided to cut open after drinking too much,” he touched his face, feeling the old scars. The sun warmed his skin. “I carried these scars and demons wherever I went for the past sixteen years. Today I’m burying you and my demons.” He let out a sigh and looked across the basement at the overgrown weeds. 

Beneath the ash and rubble, remnants of his bedroom rested in the southwest corner. It had a twin mattress, a chest of drawers, and a bookshelf with pre approved books. It had been nothing more than a cage. “I’m no longer the boy trapped in the basement, terrified of you and my cousins or women. They still make me uneasy, but I can work through it.”

“Cousins, I’m sorry I stole your future dreams. Izumi, you’ll never be a news reporter. Reiko, you’ll never go to London. Kaori, you’ll never write a play or novel. Your sister lived. You can live on through her instead of me. Kiwa’s married now and working as a social worker. It wasn’t her dream, but dreams can change, right?” He paused trying to process the words. 

His cousins followed his mother’s lead in abusing him. They had only been children. Izumi, the eldest sister, was five years his senior. Kaori and Reiko were twins and four years older while Kiwa was closest to his age being two years older. His mother would have been the only parental influence after their own parents. Why would they challenge what their aunt did to him? He rubbed his temples. It was all speculation. 

“I never had one. I couldn’t allow myself to conjure a future, not when I stole four dreams. Now, I don’t have much of a dream. I want to live a normal life and be happy, something I never got as a child. At least not when I lived with you. I was adopted by the Rengokus and they treated me as a family should. They’re caring, kind, and generous. I have friends who, despite my faults, would be willing to help at a moment’s notice if I need them.” The chef readjusted the way he was sitting. 

Obanai turned his head to look at where Sanemi was. His friend leaned on the car watching the clouds. Sanemi was one of the reasons he was alive today. He had been his first friend after the Rengokus. They were similar. Both were raised in abusive households and somehow turned out decently. One was an engineer and getting married in less than two months while the other was a chef at an upscale restaurant. 

“I came here today because there’s someone I want to spend forever with,” Obanai lowered his voice. “Mitsuri is the most compassionate person in the world. She accepts me despite being weird, prickly, and ugly. Originally, I thought it would be impossible for us to ever be together because of my past. I told myself I was tainted, broken, weak, pathetic, and useless because of you. Perhaps, part of what you said was true, but I am changing for the better. I want to be good enough for her. I want to be able to walk beside her and tell her I love her. So today, I am telling you and my cousins goodbye.” He crumpled the letter he wrote.

Obanai rolled his shoulders, the tension easing out that he had been holding onto since he left here. This was closure. He threw the paper into the basement and relief washed over his body. He closed his eyes and smelled the air. The crisp forest air cleared his mind. Obanai laid on the ground and trailed a hand over the dirt and grass, the fronds tickling his palm. He could finally let go of shame surrounding his family’s death. It happened, but it did not need to define him any more. 

Akira still had not called, but that had always been a possibility. For now, he would be content with this progress. Life was forever changing and he had to be willing to adapt. If it didn’t he never would have taken a chance with Mitsuri. Opening his eyes, he saw a yellow dandelion on his left side. He pinched the stem of the flower before rolling to his side. He stood up and made his way back to his white Jeep.

“You’re done already?” Sanemi asked, turning to face his best friend. The man looked down to see a dandelion in Obanai’s hand. 

“Yeah, I think I am,” Obanai responded. It took sixteen years, but his family no longer restrained him. Their nails did not tear into his skin and threaten to pull him down to Hell. 

“You’re collecting weeds now?” Sanemi asked as his eyes narrowed. 

“Yes, it's going to be part of your boutonnière,” Obanai answered as he opened the driver’s side. He set the dandelion inside the center console to protect it. Sanemi wrinkled his nose and got into the passenger seat. It had been a test to determine if he was ready to tell Mitsuri everything. There was not a single doubt that he passed. 

Mitsuri stepped outside. Her sisters had been chanting, “Ask him” for the past five minutes to encourage her. Her mother and sisters seemed to endorse her new relationship. Maybe because she brought up Obanai since she’s known him and everything he’s done for her. She paced up and down the sidewalk needing to get rid of her jitters. 

Mitsuri took chances in every relationship she had, willing to get hurt in the pursuit of happiness. Why did she hesitate with Obanai? Strings pulled in her chest. Right now, they were happy and good without being official. If they were to give it a name, would it ruin what they had? They were still dancing around without direction.

No, they were taking their time. That’s all it was. Obanai had more going on than the average guy. His abusive past, his long lost father appearing, his new job, and his mental illnesses. Her stomach churned. Their relationship took a backseat to all of that. She could handle it. She did not need to be his priority. They had time to define what they were, she tried to convince herself. Her mother told her your partner was supposed to be a source of strength, wisdom, and happiness. Mitsuri wanted to be Obanai’s partner, even with everything he was going through. 

Fate drew them together, the red strings pulled tighter with each interaction. He felt them too. In her heart of hearts, she was right. Words like but, yet, and maybe flew around her brain. Uncertainty crept through. She would get nowhere if she never asked. 

She bounced on the balls of her feet and shook her head trying to clear her head. The only person who could calm her was Obanai. She pulled out her phone to look at their messages from earlier. He’d been silent since 10 A.M. 

Mitsuri: Megumi just told me a great joke. How do moths swim?

Obanai: They don’t. 

Mitsuri: Guess! 😋

Obanai: They flutter?

Mitsuri: Oh, good guess, but nope! They do the butterfly stroke 🤣🦋

Obanai: …

Mitsuri: 😾

Obanai: I should have guessed that. 

Mitsuri: ☺️You’ll have to up your pun game for next time. Also, this is a time you could have used the face palm emoji for something that seemed obvious. Example: 🤦 

Obanai: Ah, of course.  

Their conversations were effortless now. Would asking him to be her wedding date ruin it? Make it too real? Her thumb tapped on the screen. Communication was key in any relationship. Without further thought, she called him. He picked up on the third ring. 

“Hey,” his smooth voice rushed over her. “I’m driving-” 

“Do you want to be my plus one for the wedding?” Mitsuri said, shutting her eyes tightly. It was impulsive and random. Why did she phrase it that way? Maybe she should have started with hello. It was too late now, the words were out there. There was no going back. 

“We’re part of the wedding party, so technically we don't need to be each other’s plus one. I’d like you to be my date. Each other’s date, actually. Like a couple since I think things are going really well between us,” she rambled. Why was she still talking? “It’s a big step, but I’m ready if you are. If not, I understand.” 

Her heart quickened as she waited for an answer. She should have thought this out a little bit better. Of course, Obanai needed time to decide. This was a bad idea. Why did she always do this type of thing? She took in a sharp breath before she decided to fill the silence. “Sorry, that was out of the blue. You don’t have to answer now. I know it’s a month and a half away, so it can wait.”

Mitsuri’s question floored him. It’s not like this was the first time she asked something on impulse. Based on her tone, she was anxious. She was asking him to be her date? He wanted to say ‘Yes’ immediately. That was not the issue though. 

Obanai could feel Sanemi’s gaze boring into his side as he whipped his head around so fast he cracked his neck. He glanced over at his best friend. Sanemi smiled from ear to ear with a wild look he got whenever he solved something. Obanai shook his head as Sanemi opened his mouth to respond. She would be mortified. His right eye twitched and he wished she had let him finish speaking before she asked. Or maybe he should not have answered her to begin with. 

“You know what, Mitsuri? Obanai would love that,” Sanemi answered for him, his canines flashing wickedly. He grinned wider if that was even possible. Fuck. 

“S-Sanemi?” Her voice withdrew in disbelief. “Oh hi, Sanemi,” Mitsuri’s tone raised a pitch and laughed. “I was just-Obanai and I-” she struggled to find a way to recover or make an excuse for what she had asked. There was no way out of it. “We-I’m sorry.” He loathed the way her voice cracked. She had never been the type to lie. Why had he asked her to? 

“Mitsuri, don’t apologize. Can we talk about this after I drop off Sanemi? It will only be ten minutes,” Obanai tried to keep his voice calm. Internally, he fought the urge to hit Sanemi upside the head for answering while the other urge was to comfort Mitsuri. It would be easier if she was in town, so he could talk in person. 

“Yes,” Mitsuri squeaked and hung up quickly. Fuck. Sanemi barked out a thunderous laugh and held his sides. 

“So, everyone was right,” Sanemi said, his body still vibrating. Obanai looked back at the road. If he kept looking at the white haired man he was going to punch him. 

“Yes, everyone was right,” Obanai confirmed through gritted teeth. Now, his therapist, Kyojuro, and Sanemi knew the truth. Kyojuro agreed to keep it a secret and his therapist was legally bound to. On the other hand, Sanemi would most likely tell Kanae and then everyone would know. Fuck.

“I always said whether or not you were into Mitsuri was none of my business or anyone else’s,” Sanemi said, his laughs subsiding. “You’ve never liked anyone since I’ve known you. I figured you weren’t interested in Mitsuri and Tengen was just giving you a hard time like he always does. I never would have guessed Mitsuri was your type though.” He waved his hand, trying to come up with a way to describe her. “She’s so…pink and you’re so you.” 

“You have such a way with words,” Obanai said sarcastically. “Kanae should count herself lucky to have such an astute, well educated groom.”

“I’m an engineer. I don’t read and write poetry like you, dipshit. If I gave you any structural designs or AutoCAD you wouldn’t know what to do, so fuck off,” Sanemi growled like a wolf warning a wild cat to back down. “Mitsuri is so talkative and positive all the time, I figured she would have irritated you. You plan out everything you do and she’s so scatterbrained.”

“Don’t call her scatterbrained.” Obanai shot him a glare out of the corner of his eyes. He turned on his blinker. His temperature rose. “I hate it when people assume things about her. She’s a great person. Mitsuri pours her heart into everything she does and doesn’t stop until she achieves her goals. I won’t allow you to criticize her-”

“Hold up,” Sanemi interjected, “all I’m saying is you and her are very different, okay? It’s not a bad thing, but not what I expected for you. I have questions, but you should call her back as soon as possible. I might not be the best when it comes to analyzing people, but she seemed upset.” 

“She was... Are you going to tell Kanae?” Obanai asked as he pulled up to Sanemi’s two story house. Sanemi turned to face him. 

“Do you want to keep this a secret? I will keep it, but I am not going to lie to Kanae if she asks.” Sanemi’s mouth twitched waiting for a response. 

Obanai tapped his steering wheel, staring down at the speedometer. Did their relationship need to be a secret anymore? Three people knew. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the group found out. He bit the inside of his cheek. Besides Sanemi, all his friends deduced that Mitsuri and him liked each other. Who cared anymore if their relationship was public knowledge? Not if she was asking him to be her date to the wedding. She was coming back into town tomorrow and he would tell her everything. Then he could finally say nothing was holding him back from being with her. Slowly he turned his head towards his friend. 

“No, I’m ready to tell people. Can you give me an hour before you say anything to Kanae?” Obanai asked. Sanemi smirked. 

“Oh, no, I am not going to say anything. Kanae would be hurt if Mitsuri didn’t tell her personally,” Sanemi determined, his hand hovered over the door handle. “Just so you know, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about your relationship.” The taller man pushed the door open. He turned back to meet Obanai’s dual colored eyes, “It’s between you and her.”

Obanai nodded, “Thanks…And thanks for coming with me, Sanemi.” 

“It’s what friends do.” Sanemi shut the passenger door and waved. 

“Are you okay?” Obanai asked when Mitsuri answered on the first ring. She sniffed. He could imagine the tears rolling down her face and her nose running. No, he had to fix this. 

“I’m sorry,” was her default answer when she was upset, ready to take the blame when she had done nothing wrong. “I should have let you finish talking before I asked. Now, Sanemi knows and he’ll tell Kanae. Kanae will be angry that I didn’t tell her. She’ll tell Makio and then the Uzuis will know. I fucked up everything. I shouldn’t have asked-”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. Don’t worry about Sanemi or the others,” Obanai tried to calm her before taking in a deep breath. “My answer is yes.” He heard her breath stall before she hiccuped. 

“When I asked to keep us a secret, I was worried I was going to fuck up everything in the first few weeks.” He bit his lip. “If I did then you would never have to deal with the repercussions of our friends ridiculing you if we kept it to ourselves,” he continued. It was deeper than that. 

“But you didn’t,” Mitsuri’s voice was wet and congested. “I wouldn’t let you,” she said after clearing her throat. “Do you really want to be my date? I sort of-”

“A hundred times yes,” Obanai replied. It had been her answer when he asked to kiss her. A sound like bells came from his phone, the laugh he cherished the most, other than her snort. His heart fluttered. 

“Wouldn’t it be a hundred and one since you already said it once?” He heard her smile in her tone.

“Technically, are you taking count now?” he teased.

“Maybe. I am a teacher after all,” Mitsuri replied, he could see her trying to hide her smile behind her hand. There was a pause in their conversation. A quiet acceptance between the pair. He cleared his throat. 

“When you come back tomorrow, do you want to come over? I want to tell you everything about my family.” He could feel his voice drop a level. Inhaling deeply, he reminded himself he was ready to tell her the truth of his family-the part he knew about, at least. 

“Are you sure?” Concern edged her voice. This was exactly why he loved her- well, one of the many reasons. 

“Yes.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m ready. I’m terrified how you’ll react, but I trust you, so I’m ready to tell you.” 

“Whatever happened, I’ll accept you. I’ll always accept you because I-I,” she stuttered. “I care about you so much, Obanai.” His mind faltered and the wind was knocked out of his lungs. It would be so easy to tell her right now. Though this was not the type of conversation to have over the phone. 

His throat constricted, unable to respond. How did he get so lucky to have her in his life? Her soft, empathetic soul reached out to his wounded spirit, shining ever brighter for him. He thanked whatever gods let her be in his life. 

You are the light in the darkness I surrounded myself in.

Brilliant, shining as ever.

Shadows shifting for the sun’s rays 

Until there was only a dark sunflower 

where the shadows once rested

Basking in your embrace.

“I care about you too.” He would allow himself to say that at least. He was better, but not enough to tell her he loved her. Before he could tell her what she meant to him, she deserved to know every last secret. She won’t run, he dared to hope. “I don’t want us to be a secret anymore.” 

Group Message: Uzui Tengen, Uzui Makio, Uzui Suma, Uzui Hinatsuru, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Kocho Kanae, Kocho Shinobu, Rengoku Kyojuro, Himejima Gyomei, Kanroji Mitsuri, Iguro Obanai

Mitsuri: Btw, I’m bringing a date to the wedding. 

Kanae: Oh, who is it? You know you need approval 😄

Sanemi: …

Shinobu: I’m bringing someone too. 

Tengen: NOOO! My ship is sinking!

Gyomei: Your ship? 

Obanai: Your ship?

Tengen: Yes, a ship refers to when you want two(or more) people to get together so you put them on a ship together and it sets sail if they get together. If Mitsuri is bringing someone to the wedding that means my ship is sinking.  🚢 🧨

Mitsuri: 🤣Who did you ‘ship’ me with?

Obanai: Yeah, who?

Sanemi: Jesus. 

Hinatsuru: This isn’t the place, Tengen. If Mitsuri wants to bring someone she can. 

Tengen: But, it’s so fucking obvious. Where’s Kyojuro? He knows what I’m talking about. 

Obanai: At work.

Kanae: Tell us who it is!

Gyomei: Is it someone we know?
Mitsuri: Yes. 

Shinobu: A sorority sister?

Mitsuri: No. I’ll help. It’s a guy. 

Sanemi: Are we really doing this?

Suma: Tanjiro?

Mitsuri: Nope!

Kanae: Is it someone you’ve liked for a while?

Makio: Inosuke? 

Mitsuri: Yes and no.

Tengen: You’re breaking my heart here. Sabito?

Mitsuri: Who’s that?

Obanai: My coworker. 

Mitsuri: I’ve never met him, but close. 😂

Kanae: I know who it is. 😉

Makio: Wait… You’ve liked him for a while…OH!

Gyomei: One of our coworkers?

Mitsuri: Nope!

Hinatsuru: Is it who I think it is, Makio?

Makio: yes

Suma: WHO!!?

Obanai: Tengen, you never answered Mitsuri’s question.

Tengen: about the ship? Sort of pointless now that she’s bringing someone else. 😔

Sanemi: This is so stupid. 

Gyomei: Let her have her fun. 

Mitsuri: Yeah, what’s the ship?

Tengen: No. 

Obanai: It’s sailing. 

Tengen: Sailing? 

Mitsuri: It’s sailing 🛳️ 

Suma: OBANAI?!?!

Mitsuri: Yes. 😊

Gyomei: I saw it coming a kilometer away.

There was a pause in the group messages. Everyone was trying to figure out if they could laugh or not at the gentle giant with a visual impairment. 

Sanemi: …Are you allowed to make those jokes?

Gyomei: If not me, who else?

Obanai: Me since I’m half blind.

Gyomei: Hmmm, fair enough. 

The rest of the messages were a list of congratulations to the pair. Mitsuri smiled at her phone, sending Obanai a quick good night text. They were a step closer to more. 

On Monday morning, Obanai was feeding Kaburamaru when he froze. The sound of rippling water hit his ears and he dropped Kaburamaru’s thawed mouse into the enclosure. The ringtone he set for Akira Fujihara. 

All he could feel was the visceral reaction as he grasped his phone. Nausea, heaviness, pain radiated over his temples. A heavy weight rested in his stomach as it rumbled. It was empty. His heart sank. 

Everything was looking up. Now, Obanai seemed to be back at square one. Though he was terrified of what the man on the other end had to say, he could not ignore Akira. He slid the accept button over and held his breath in anticipation. 

“Hello,” the voice on the other end spoke. They sounded far too similar to each other for Obanai’s liking. He just learned how to cope with his dead relatives and now his living ones were crawling out of the ashen woodwork. The universe had a great sense of humor.

“Hello,” he echoed back. It was so casual, not at all the tone he expected to have talking to his long lost father. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to call or not,” he admitted.

“I wasn’t sure either. Sorry- I meant I was going to but I wasn’t sure when. I couldn’t figure out what to tell you.” Obanai had guessed as much. “I was on vacation the week after you called and when I got your voicemail, I couldn’t believe it,” Akira said. “You seemed so angry when I -”

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Obanai started. Mitsuri told him to start with an apology. “I was too harsh and didn’t want to listen to you. I just-My mother told me you left her when you found out she was pregnant.”

“Tamami never told me she was pregnant. If she had, I would have made different choices. It was-I wasn’t the best person back then,” Akira admitted. Obanai watched as Kaburamaru slithered up to the glass, ignoring the mouse in favor of raising his head towards Obanai. He reached down and the snake moved up his arm to curl around his neck. The nausea and pain eased away with his friend’s presence. 

“I’m not asking whether or not you were the best or even a good person. I want to know what happened between you and her,” Obanai answered, stroking his friend’s ivory scales where he found comfort in the repetitive motion. 

He had been waiting to talk to his biological father for months. The anxiety rested in the back of his mind, but it was not from a source of pain or discomfort. He knew his mother’s side of the family, but his father’s had always been a mystery. He was intrigued to learn what Akira had to say regardless of the truth. 

Chapter Text

Mid June

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Mitsuri stood by the doorway as she watched Shinobu wrapping bandages over Iguro’s arm. There were already significant bandages over his torso. He was brought back from a mission where he smashed through a glass window with the demon to expose it to sunlight. There were lacerations all over his body from the glass. The worst of it was a shard that cut his upper left arm. Shinobu glanced at Mitsuri before setting Iguro’s arm back on the bed. He drifted in and out of consciousness since he was returned. She had him on a saline drip to improve his blood volume and pressure. 

Kaburamaru hissed at all of the attendants besides Shinobu. The snake had taken a liking to her and now he was coiled by Iguro’s side, staring intently at the purple haired woman. 

“Can I stay with him? Do you think he would mind?” Mitsuri asked from her spot at the door. Shinobu gave her a small smile. The Insect Hashira knew Mitsuri harbored feelings for Iguro after Mitsuri disclosed she thought she was in love with him. It was hard to miss with the letters they sent, going out to restaurants, and taking long walks together in town. Inwardly, Shinobu wondered how long Mitsuri would be able to hide her feelings. Mitsuri had a fear of rejection after two failed engagements along with the uncertainty. Iguro would not reject her because he did not like her, but because he did not like himself. Shinobu felt similarly. Nearly every hashira had some form of self loathing due to their pasts. Everyone except maybe Uzui, Kanroji, and Rengoku. Or they were simply better at hiding it under a mask like she did. 

Iguro and Shinobu did not speak much about their pasts. Everyone knew hers. Her parents were killed by demons, she and Kanae became demon slayers, her sister was killed by the demon with fans, and then she became the Insect Hashira. It was a common trope in the Corps. What else was there to know about the petite woman? No one needed to know about the deep rage boiling inside her veins or the desire to make demons suffer. Her poisons elicited hyperesthesia, enhancing the demons’ perception of pain right before they died. Every last nerve ending set aflame, so even a light breeze would make them wail and shake in agony. Right before they melted into a puddle of biological waste. 

When she first met Iguro, he would stare at her with his judgmental eyes. He questioned why she became a hashira when she could not even slice a demon’s head off. Shinobu smiled at him and asked the Master for permission to go on a mission with the Serpent Hashira. He permitted it. On the mission, Shinobu showed Iguro what she could do. Her poisons were worse than cleaving a demon’s head. 

Begrudgingly, Iguro learned to respect her. Would she call him a friend? Not quite, but they sparred regularly and discussed the merits of each breathing style and why some worked better than others for particular body types. They never discussed anything personal unless they were about plans with the other Hashira. Iguro told her several times he would not be able to train in favor of seeing Mitsuri. 

“I don’t think he would want anyone else, Mitsuri,” Shinobu nodded. Still, Mitsuri hesitated by the doorframe. “Come here,” Shinobu urged her. 

Mitsuri held her hand to her lips and stepped forward where Shinobu set up a chair beside the bed. The Love Hashira sat down on the wooden chair and looked at the wounded man lying down. The Kakushi brought him back to the Butterfly house. They found his nichirin sword shattered inside of the house he had been fighting in. The sword’s unique design made it essential for him to go to the swordsmith village to have it replaced. 

Shinobu watched the hashiras. A bright, pink haired girl seated next to the monochrome, serpent boy. An odd pair. Mitsuri’s green eyes were tearing up as she took in his appearance. His light skin, abnormally pale against the hospital bed sheets considering the amount of blood he lost. Another shard had punctured his abdomen. Shinobu had been concerned it nicked an intestine or lung, but luckily it did not. 

Shinobu did not understand the connection between the two. Mitsuri was easy to get along with. She was kind, gentle, and carefree whereas Iguro was strict, irritable, and demanding. The lesser ranked slayers avoided him at headquarters and suffered through missions with the Serpent Hashira. Iguro berated him and scoffed at their incompetence. 

Why Mitsuri liked Iguro was elusive to Shinobu. It was easy to see why Iguro liked Mitsuri. Everyone did. Shinobu could ask, but she was not about to bring up Mitsuri’s affection now in front of the man. It would cause her friend too much embarrassment even if he was slumbering.

When she first met the pastel haired woman, Mitsuri had said she joined the Corps to find a man stronger than her. A man to marry that was not intimidated or called her weird for her hair, appetite, or strength. Iguro was nearly as weak as Shinobu and she could not even cut off the head of a demon. Shinobu had to rely on her poisons, speed, and swordsmanship skills to kill demons. If it wasn’t for Iguro’s serpent breathing style, he would not be able to cut off demon heads. However, Mitsuri claimed to love him even though his strength was inferior. 

“When you get better, we should visit that soba restaurant. The one with the man and his three children,” Mitsuri said, looking at Obanai with a sympathetic gaze. “I remember you laughing at the three children as they jumped and dodged each other around the kitchen. I enjoy hearing your laugh and eating meals with you. It’s one of my favorite things.” 

Purple eyes shifted towards the black haired man. His fingers twitched as Mitsuri spoke to him and he lazily swept his hand to the side of the bed as if searching for her. Shinobu raised a brow as Mitsuri’s hand reached out for him. He grasped it and let out a breathless sigh. When Shinobu had been wrapping Obanai’s arm, he grimaced, his eyes squeezed shut and jaw strained. He was different with Mitsuri. The tension in his eyes and body eased. 

Mitsuri ran her thumb over the back of his hand and watched his face. It was easy for every hashira to see they deeply cared for each other. Yet… neither one was willing to admit it. Fear, timing, or appearances were what normally kept people apart. Iguro and Kanroji were no different. Iguro with his mysterious past which led to his scars and Kanroji’s need for acceptance and low self esteem. 

To Shinobu’s knowledge, Iguro never revealed his face to Mitsuri. Shinobu had seen the terrible scars several times when his facial bandages fell or needed to be replaced. They were hideous with wide and deep grooves. She would not have been surprised if they were infected when he first got them due to inadequate care and it worsened the scar. They had been bloodied and loose when he arrived. Iguro snarled at her when she replaced them with fresh bandages. Kaburamaru hissed lightly at her in warning, but allowed her to tend to his master. 

The world was cruel. Crueler with demons stealing what happiness could be found in the cracks. Shinobu turned from the pair and glowered. Demons killed her sister, parents, and tsugukos. Anyone she cared for was gone and all she could do to kill the demons was to torture and poison them. Her weak constitution made it impossible to cut off their heads. Her shoulders curled in. She brought a hand to her face as she exited the patient’s room, covering her scowl with an ornate sleeve. 

Kanae hoped for her to live a normal life. One where she found a purpose outside of slaying demons and avenging their parents. That was impossible after Kanae died. She dedicated herself to the Corps’ main mission, Destroy, written on the back of all their uniforms. She smiled cruelly thinking of other ways to inflict suffering on the ones who stole her family. 

“Shinobu,” Mitsuri said, breaking the Insect Hashira’s train of thought. Shinobu turned expecting a question and put on her pseudo smile for her friend. Mitsuri walked towards her and pulled the slight woman into a hug. “Thank you for taking care of him and the rest of us. I’m not sure what we would do without you. You’re the greatest doctor I know.” Her cheery tone was subdued, replaced with sentiment. “Iguro-san never says it but he likes sparring and talking with you about breathing styles. I thought you should know.” 

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu had to blink away tears. She hugged the taller woman back. Mitsuri had a way of destressing her and she would always be grateful to the Love Hashira. She was a lot like her sister that way. Every hashira was fond of Mitsuri due to her cheery nature. Some might mistake her carefree nature and kindness as naivety and frivolity, but she had an uncanny emotional intelligence. Her words were chosen with care. Mitsuri knew exactly how and when to comfort others. She was the heart of the hashiras. Shinobu hoped Mitsuri would be spared and allowed to live a long life with a man who adored her as she was. 

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Shinobu woke to hear the shower turning on. The pipes rattled.  It was an older building with brick walls. When she toured the apartment they said the brick added character. Shinobu rolled her eyes, they just wanted to save money on paint and drywall. Truly, the resident did not care. This was mostly a place for her to sleep and recoup in between shifts. 

The purple and black haired woman rolled onto her stomach to breathe in the scent of fresh linen. She had dreams like this since she was 15 years old. When she first dreamt of the events, she called it a fluke, a mere coincidence. However, one night she envisioned her sister’s death, bloody and ripped apart because of a demon. The next morning, she clung to Kanae and convinced her to stay home. Kanae was supposed to go on a school trip. On that trip, a girl was assaulted and nearly died. Her body was bruised and broken. It could have been Kanae if Shinobu hadn’t asked her to stay home. She should have been horrified, but she was relieved knowing her sister survived because of her intervention. Shinobu never thought of herself as a superstitious person, but she has heeded the dreams ever since. 

They were memories of another time and place. Oftentimes, they ran parallel to what occurred in her current life. When Mitsuri revealed she was dating Obanai yesterday, Shinobu had not been surprised. In the other world, Shinobu saw glimpses of their love story. Though they never told the other, Shinobu wondered if they would be lucky enough this time. Hopefully. How many chances would lovers have to make up for the tragedy of their parallel lives? Herself included. 

She turned her head to see her lover opening the shower door. Giyuu was part of the dreams too, but he had always been blurred until she met him. His ocean blue eyes and untamed, dark hair caught her attention right away. 

She met him at an art museum. Her short friend, Naomi, asked her to go to an exhibit on Toshiko Takaezu, a ceramic artist and painter. Shinobu saw a man contemplating a small ceramic vessel glazed over with tan, evergreen, and grey. He noticed her studying him and met her gaze. His eyes drew her in, captivating her in their watery depths. She walked over to him as her friend buzzed about the exhibit. Shinobu walked up to the man and stood beside him before asking his opinion on the piece. 

“It’s art,” he said, pointing at it. She flashed him a smile, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. She teased him asking what other details and insight he had on the vessel titled Garden Piece. He listed the colors and gave her a puzzled look when she laughed at his utilitarian response. Her heart beat just a bit faster when she saw his shy closed mouth smile that he tried to hide when he turned to look at a different piece. Naomi was too enraptured by all the work to notice Shinobu flirting with a stranger. That night she took him to her tiny apartment and they slept together. 

Most of her relationships, if they could be called that, lasted a month or two. Shinobu had goals outside of romance and so many men tried to demand more. They asked her to focus on them instead of her studies, work, or clinicals. Her dream was to become a world-renowned doctor. No one was going to hold her back.

Giyuu never asked her for more. He was calm and reassuring when she told him about her shitty day. They dated for two months in autumn before she realized she was growing attached to him. It terrified her. Never before had she clung and relied on a man. He listened and validated her feelings the best he could. Sometimes he was emotionally stunted. The longer they were together the more fearful she became of losing herself and drowning in him. 

Her intrusive thoughts played on her insecurities. They told her she would forfeit her independence and freedom if they continued dating. He would ask her for more time and effort. Then if they did become serious, he would grow tired of coming second to her job and ask her to let go of dream and career. All men did eventually. To calm her relationship anxiety, Shinobu broke up with Giyuu. She would not allow herself to be dependent on him. 

The next few months, she dreamed of her and Giyuu’s lives in the other world. Shinobu teased him mercilessly about everything. That Giyuu was depressed and had trouble expressing himself. Shinobu tried to give him support, but he refrained from getting too close. From what she could gather, he lost the people he was close to. Shinobu empathized, but they had different reactions to the trauma. His was to drown in sorrows alone while hers was to make herself indispensable to the Corps. How else was she supposed to make up for the pain of losing her family? 

That Shinobu denied liking Giyuu, let alone loving him. He was bound to die if she loved him, everyone she loved died. Even loving Mitsuri or the Butterfly girls was a calculated risk. Besides that, she already planned to poison her own body with wisteria and feed herself to an Upper Moon. Giyuu was the only hashira she didn’t tell of her plan. If she had it was possible he’d convince her otherwise. At that point, her fury was stronger than her love. 

In this life, she chose to love Giyuu despite the fear and insecurity. She grew hyper independent since college and struggled to relent any control. Giyuu never attempted to dictate her or her choices. He provided her with silent support, warm meals, and someone to come home to. He never planned to take her freedom.

It took her months to come to that realization. In March, Shinobu asked to see the man with dark hair and one of the prettiest faces she’d ever seen. Giyuu held no ill will towards her and agreed to start seeing each other again. 

Shinobu watched the steam rise out of the top of the shower before she slipped out of the sheets and walked into the bathroom. She opened the shower door and hugged Giyuu from behind. 

“Morning, Sunshine,” Giyuu greeted her, turning his head to look at her. She kissed his spine before looking up. 

“I missed you,” she said, hugging him tighter. This relationship was easy. Neither person was overbearing or complacent. They were simply happy to be together at the end of the day.

“Missed you too,” the taller man replied with his signature closed mouth smile. She loosened her hold and allowed him to turn towards her. He gave her a chaste kiss as the warm water ran over their bodies. 

“I told my friends I was bringing a date to the wedding,” Shinobu said. He stared blankly at her, waiting for more information. She never officially invited him to be her date. “Do you want to guess who it is?” 

“Naomi?” Giyuu asked, suggesting one of the nurses she worked with. Shinobu grinned, but shook her head. He smelled like sea salt and sage. 

“Someone a bit taller and more of my type actually. Dark hair and startling blue eyes. Who is your guess now?” she teased. He paused, determining if she was being serious or not. 

“Well, you haven’t asked me, so it has to be-” Giyuu started. 

“Do you want to go to my sister’s wedding with me?” Shinobu asked point blank. This time when he smiled, his blue eyes seemed to gleam. 

“You told them you were bringing me without asking first?” Giyuu said as he grabbed the volumizing shampoo from behind her. She squinted at him as the water poured over them.

“Not you, specifically, but how could you say no to a pretty face like this?” she set her hand under her chin and pouted jokingly. He blinked several times before replying and his expression turned neutral. 

“No,” he squirted the cerulean shampoo into his hand and lathered it up. He started scrubbing his hair and scalp as he leaned his head back. 

“Excuse me?” Shinobu asked, still smiling, but her eyes twitched. He opened one eye. He was prettier than he had any right to be when he refused her. 

“You haven’t told them it’s me,” he said.  “I’ve told you about my history with Sanemi and Obanai. They hate me,” Giyuu explained. “I doubt they would like to have me show up at Sanemi’s wedding with his future sister-in-law. It would be a bad idea. Even I know that and my social skills are lacking as you’ve pointed out multiple times.” 

“Hate is such a strong word,” Shinobu countered. Giyuu leaned his head backwards to let the water rinse out the shampoo. She took the soap and loofah off the metal shelf to start washing his chest. “It’s been ten years since you saw them. Surely, they would be over something that happened in high school,” she said. Giyuu bent his head down and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look up. 

“Then why haven’t you told them you're dating me?” He questioned. “I know I’m not the most observant, but I know Sanemi and Obanai would tell me to go fuck myself if I appeared without warning. They made it a daily routine sophomore year.” He let her wrist go with a sigh. They bullied Giyuu for being a privileged, arrogant asshole. During high school, Sanemi and Giyuu got into fist fights, which Obanai would join while Kyojuro tried to break it up. Giyuu’s family left right before his junior year hoping to escape the memories of their hometown. 

“Kanae knows we’re together. Sanemi knows I’m dating someone, but Kanae has not mentioned you by name. If I tell him, then he will immediately say you cannot come,” Shinobu confessed, softening her gaze. “You’re a different person than you were in high school. If you had just explained yourself, they would understand.”

“We were kids,” Giyuu said. 

“That’s my point! You were all going through your own issues and as kids you didn’t know what to do with them,” Shinobu reasoned. “I know you have your reservations about going back, but I’m inviting you because I want you there,” she pointed at her chest. “You’re important and I want everyone to know who you are to me.” She poked his chest to emphasize her point. He took a step back into the shower wall. Shinobu moved in front of him, pressing her body into his. 

“And who am I to you?” Giyuu’s hand caressed her face as his thumb traced her bottom lip. A tingle ran down her spine at the butterfly touch.

“My boyfriend,” Shinobu said. He asked her what they were a week ago and she failed to answer him until now. “As my boyfriend, you have to come with me to my sister’s wedding.” She entangled her hands in his hair to pull him down for a kiss. 

“Alright, you win,” he murmured, bending to her will. She had once worried she would drown in him, but now she knew he meant to brave the waters beside her. 

“I’m not asking whether or not you were the best or a good person. I want to know what happened between you and her,” Obanai answered, stroking his friend’s ivory scales where he found comfort in the repetitive motion. 

He had been waiting to talk to his biological father for months. The anxiety rested in the back of his mind, but it was not from a source of pain or discomfort. He knew his mother’s side of the family, but his father’s had always been a mystery. He was intrigued to learn what Akira had to say regardless of the truth. 

Heartbeats passed as Obanai waited for Akira’s response. He wished he would have spoken with him when he first came to Nichirin instead of reacting negatively. It might have been easier to have this conversation in person instead of over the phone. It was not often he preferred in person communication, but in this case and several in the last few months, he would have liked to talk in person. Another mark of growth. It was odd how these realizations came to mind at random times. 

“What else did she tell you?” Akira asked. It was a fair question, but in truth his mother had not told him anything but the worst of the man. He was a villain in her eyes. When Obanai asked any questions, she would react violently. 

“Do you love your father more than me? He’s not here, I am,” Tamami said, one hand over his throat. Her lip pulled back in a snarl before she smacked him across the face, leaving a bruise over his amber eye. “Remember that next time, Baby,” she kissed his brow. “You know I wouldn’t do this if you just listened.” 

She shouldn’t have hurt you. He repeated the mantra. 

Memories presented themselves, but they did not make his heart race or begin to panic. Obanai need not dwell on every tainted memory of his mother. He had said his goodbyes yesterday. The sense of freedom that came with it was still foreign. 

“That I looked almost exactly like you except for her mouth,” Obanai replied stiffly. He stood up and walked out of the snake’s room. There was a list of questions resting on his dining table. “That you were weak, pathetic, and cowardly. You promised to marry her then left when she told you about me. She didn’t like talking about you, I didn’t even know your name until the private investigator found you.” 

“You hired a private investigator?” the older man asked. Obanai turned on the lights in the kitchen and sat down in a wooden chair before dragging the sheet of questions towards him. Looking at the list now, the questions seemed to fall flat. His skin prickled just hearing his bio father talk. He switched Akira to speaker mode on his phone. 

“Yes, my father has a PI friend, so he worked on this in his freetime. it was the only way I could find you. You didn’t leave a name or card at Nichirin,” Obanai confessed. He scratched his neck before Kaburamaru bumped him with his tail. A suggestion to avoid accidentally hurting himself. 

“After you stormed out, I figured you never wanted to hear from me, so I left,” Akira said quickly. 

“I thought that too, but you’re the only one I can ask about my mother. She died when I was twelve,” Obanai said, his voice growing quieter at the end. His chest started to feel tight. He could talk about this, but it seemed wrong to discuss it with what was essentially a stranger. 

“I read about the fire,” Akira replied. “After I saw your picture, I googled Tamami and the fire appeared saying it took her life and three of your cousins. I’m sorry it happened.” This was the part where Obanai should admit he started the fire, but they were not close. He shut his eyes briefly. He didn't owe this man an explanation.

“It’s been a long time,” the raven haired chef said, keeping his voice even. He pinched the bridge of his nose hoping to move past this part of the conversation. He would be having this discussion with Mitsuri later today and he needed his mental and emotional capacities intact. He promised to tell her today. “Look, I want to know the truth between you and my mother, so can we skip the pleasantries?” Obanai asked briskly, changing the direction of the conversation. Cut to the chase. Eliminate the bullshit. 

“Yeah,” Akira sighed like he was about to admit to a crime. “You should know I loved her, I really did, but there were other factors,” Akira paused, thinking through his next words carefully. “I’ll start from the beginning. I met Tamami when I took a four month contract at her company. She was quiet, small, and quite beautiful. We hit it off and I asked her out. In a week, I knew I loved her. We were both young and dated the next four months. There never seemed to be a time we were apart,” he explained and Obanai could hear him swallow on the other end. 

When does the other shoe drop? The pessimistic side of Obanai reared its head. It had to end. 

“When my contract ended, I did… ask her to marry me,” Akira admitted. 

“So, you were engaged?” Obanai grasped his pant leg. Kaburamaru’s body tensed. He peered to look directly into his friend’s eyes, offering support. 

“Unofficially, I promised to marry her. I had to come back to Hiroshima to ask my parents for permission. They are very traditional. Tamami didn’t have any family except for her sister. Her parents abused her and her sister, so she cut contact with them. When I spoke with my parents about her and the proposal, they told me I was already engaged,” Akira took a deep breath. “I was their only child and I had certain responsibilities to fulfill. Tamami would never meet my parents' expectations. Marrying her would have been seen as a disadvantage. They arranged a marriage with their friend’s family. The engagement came with a business deal. I thought I had no choice, so I did what was expected.”

The other shoe dropped. His mother had not lied about Akira promising to marry her. Only he did not follow through with it…Because of expectations, responsibilities, and roles. It left a sour taste in Obanai’s mouth. His mother held him to high standards that he could never amount to. They were the reason Obanai tormented himself for so long. The expectation to be perfect fell flat when it compromised his chance at happiness. Obanai stroked Kaburamaru’s head as he played with the edge of the paper. The moisture from his fingers made the paper’s edge dull. 

“I wasn’t the most honorable person. I obeyed them and decided to end it with your mother. I went back to break up in person. It only seemed proper considering I asked to marry her. It was right before Christmas. When I got there I couldn’t tell her the truth, so I told Tamami my parents approved. I wanted to have one last weekend together. Back then I was a coward. She was so happy. I didn’t wish to hurt her,” his voice lowered. 

“So you lead her on, instead?” Obanai heard himself snap. His mother believed she met her soul mate, only to be tossed aside in favor of tradition. Bastard. Akira inhaled sharply. 

“I won’t defend my actions. It was selfish and self serving on my part. Before I left, I told her my parents arranged a marriage. I was an idiot and suggested we could still see each other. She started screaming and refused, asking if I thought she was a whore,” Akira paused.

“It was stupid to even ask, but I wanted to hold onto her for a little bit longer…She asked me why I would pretend everything was fine for two days before telling her the truth. I couldn’t give her a good answer because there wasn’t one. Tamami started crying and throwing things at me. A porcelain lamp, tv remote, candles. The lamp hit me and cut across my cheek. I’d never seen her react so violently… Looking back, I don’t blame her,” Akira swallowed. 

Obanai remained silent. His mother had been abusive and violent for the majority of his childhood. There were times she adored him like when she brushed his hair or gave him hugs, but it lasted for a short time. Her abuse escalated when she drank and Obanai walked on eggshells around her. That was the only version of his mother he knew. This man had no idea the wrath Obanai experienced at her hands. 

“I never saw her again. I tried to call and write but she ignored me. A few months later I heard her sister died and she left to take care of her nieces. I should have fought for her. If I had then maybe I could have been there for you and her. Or if I had known you existed- I would have fought,” Akira’s voice quivered. 

“But you didn’t,” Obanai replied. That was all there was to it. His mother told him Akira knew and actively decided to leave. Was it possible she crafted that version to vilify Akira further? To justify Obanai’s abuse? I’m never going to know the exact reason she abused me. All of it is speculation. 

“No, I didn’t,” Akira echoed. Silence. Obanai tapped his fingers on the table trying to determine how to address the other questions he had. A minute passed and then a second. 

“Obanai, I’d like to make up for what I did-or I guess what I didn’t do, actually,” he let out a nervous laugh. “I can give you money or -”

“Akira, I don’t need money,” he interjected. He could pay his mortgage, bills, and live minimally. Money was less of a concern now with his promotion. “You don’t need to pay me off,” he reaffirmed.

“It’s not that. I want to make up for my absence and neglect. What can I do for you?” Akira said. 

Answers were the only thing Obanai needed from him. The night Akira appeared, it forced Obanai to analyze his feelings for Mitsuri and make the first leap towards a relationship. If Akira hadn’t shown up, Obanai might have gone to the grave without recognizing and acting on them. Now, Obanai was prepared to show Mitsuri all his demons. He pushed the list of questions aside and closed his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to make up for. You didn’t know about me and I thought you abandoned us, so I never cared if I did meet you,” Obanai said. He looked at the oven’s clock. “I have more questions, but I think this is enough for now.” 

“If you ever do need something, call me. I know you already have a father, but I’d like to get to know you if you let me,” his voice trembled. His first instinct was to deny Akira’s request out of fear, yet a smaller part wanted to know more of him. The Iguro side of his family was shit. There was slim chance the Fujihara side would be much better based on what Akira said about himself and his parents. 

“You can try. My friends have told me I’m prickly on my best days,” Obanai shifted in the chair. Kaburamaru draped over his shoulders while he stared intently at his friend with his scarlet eyes. He flicked his tongue out twice in agreement. 

“My daughter says I have the patience of a Buddhist priest,” Akira said before clearing his throat. Obanai’s eyes widened. Daughter? “Mimi was actually the one to show me the food blog you were in. If you ever want to come out to Hiroshima, you can meet her.”

“Your daughter?” Obanai repeated. He had a sister-Half sister. He had brothers in Kyojuro and Senjuro, but not a sister. His nose wrinkled. Did they look similar? What sort of person was she? Were there others? “Do you have any other children? Or any other children you know about?” He asked with a barb. 

“No, she’s the only child I know of,” Akira answered, ignoring Obanai’s remark. “She really wants to meet you, but that’s your decision. I’m not going to push you either way.” 

Here was a man offering an olive branch and Obanai paused. He had a biological family outside of his cousin. They were asking to meet and get to know him. He was Akira’s bastard son. What could they want with him? 

“I’ll think about it,” Obanai replied. “I have to go now.” He didn’t, he just couldn’t handle another minute on the phone. If he learned anything else he might lose his nerve to tell Mitsuri when she came over. He was not going to break his promise to her. He also wanted to shower and trim his hair beforehand. His bangs were well past his eyebrows now.

“Oh, good bye,” Akira said, surprised by how abrupt Obanai was. Before he could say anything else, Obanai hit the red ‘end’ button. He leaned forward to let his forehead rest on the table. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. 

Based on the conversation, his mother had not lied about Akira leaving her, but Akira had not known about him. The last weekend they spent together was in December, which would have been approximately nine months before he was born. Tamami would not have known she was pregnant either. Obanai was conceived from a lie. 

He shut his eyes. It would have been a stressful time for Tamami. Her lover left her for an arranged marriage. Her sister died and she was forced to move to take care of her nieces. Then to top off everything, she found out she was carrying her ex lover’s child. A child conceived when Akira knew they had no future together, even going as far as to lie and saying they did. It disgusted Obanai. The child would be a constant reminder of her ex lover’s betrayal. It was even worse considering how similar they looked with the heterochromic slanted eyes, dark hair, and lithe build.

Obanai clenched his fists. He finally got answers regarding the circumstances of his parents’ relationship and part of the reason for his abuse.  It did not justify her actions, but it offered a small explanation for her emotional mindset. He sighed. At least, Akira answered another question Obanai thought he would never learn. His mother had been abused by his grandparents. The Iguro bloodline was stained with intergenerational trauma... It would end with him. 

It was almost noon by the time Mitsuri got back into town. Her parents tried to convince her to spend another night with them. They missed her, but Mitsuri had Obanai waiting on her. He promised to tell her the rest of his grisly past. On her drive back, she tried to not to think about what he was about to tell her. It wasn’t good, obviously, otherwise he would not have hid it. 

Was his family in prison for what they did to him? Had they done worse things to him? She could not imagine anything worse than what he had already told her. Unless they abused him sexually-No, she didn't want to even think about that possibility. She shook her head dismissing the idea. He was going to tell her today. Theorizing what happened was not beneficial for anyone and her imagination was probably worse than the reality. At least she hoped.  

She dropped Captain Sushi off at her cream colored house and poured more wet food into his bowl than normal. In all likelihood she would end up spending the night at Obanai’s house. It was easier now that she was off for the summer to spend nights with him. Maybe she should invest in an automatic feeder for the white and black cat. No, if she bought one, she would feel worse like she was picking her lover over her pet. That wasn’t fair to Sushi. Even though she spent the last two weeks with him, Sushi was running his entire body over her bare legs. He nearly tripped her as she attempted to walk to her bedroom to change her clothes. 

What did a person wear in a situation like this? Causal, semi-casual, or loungewear? She was bound to cry no matter what he told her, so loungewear. Mitsuri found a teal green ombre tunic to wear over a sports bra and loose fitting white shorts. She pulled off her hair ties, so her long pastel hair would fall in loose curls. Though she would be tempted to play with it this way, but Obanai would be too. If she learned anything from being with him, they both fidgeted with their hands when they discussed serious things. 

Mitsuri packed a small bag to bring over, including an extra set of sleep clothes, dark green v neck shirt, and yoga pants. She threw the bag over her head and went to the front door. Sushi meowed at her before he found a plastic cap on the ground to hit and chase. She smiled at his antics before catching herself in the mirror. The humidity of summer made her skin look dewy. She didn’t bother to put on makeup this morning. If she had the mascara, eyeshadow, and foundation would run down her face. 

Without further delay, she exited her house, securing her fur child inside by locking the door. Mitsuri got into her car and drove west towards Obanai’s place. 

As soon as Obanai opened the door, Mitsuri threw her arms around him, forcing the air from his lungs. He wore a short sleeved white and black shirt with dark joggers. His style never changed. Mitsuri kicked the door shut behind them. 

“I missed you,” she said, loosening her hold when he coughed. It had been two weeks since they saw each other for her birthday. Who was she kidding though? She always missed him these days. 

“I missed you too,” he murmured against her ear as he embraced her. He trailed a hand down her spine to rest on her lower back. She sighed into the crook of his neck, breathing in his crisp scent. She did not even realize he had just taken a shower until his wet hair tickled her face. She was weightless in his presence, a sense of calm spreading over her body. They stood for a few moments longer before he spoke. 

“Um, something else happened this morning,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “Akira called.” Mitsuri pulled her head back to watch his face. Obanai pressed his lips together. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested and led her to his couch. She took note of the extra blanket over the back of the couch. It was light green and soft. She could not help but wonder if he got it for her. That didn’t matter right now. They sat down beside each other. Mitsuri curled her legs under her and faced him. 

“I told you! What did he say?” She meant to be patient, but her curiosity got the best of her. It had been months since they first learned about Obanai’s father. Obanai scratched his elbow and turned his head to watch her. 

“I’m still shuffling through it,” he admitted. “I take a while to process these types of things if you haven’t guessed.” His eyes narrowed for a second. “My mother and him met at her work. He was a contractor and had a four month contract, so they dated for the entirety of it. Before Akira left he asked her to marry him,” he grimaced. He shifted in his seat. 

“Apparently, my mother didn’t lie about that. He said his family was traditional so he had to ask for permission from my grandparents before it could be official. When he asked they told him they arranged a marriage between him and another family. There was a business deal attached to the arrangement,” Obanai stretched his hand. “When Akira saw my mother again he intended to break up with her, but he didn’t. He spent one last weekend with her, pretending his parents permitted the engagement.” 

“What?” Mitsuri breathed. Obanai nodded. Akira lied to his mother about the engagement? How cruel. 

“At the end of the weekend, Akira told her his parents already arranged a marriage for him and then asked if she would want to be his mistress,” he continued. “She refused and threw a fit. She even cut his cheek.” Obanai’s mouth twitched, his scars pulling. “She must have gotten inspiration from it,” he scoffed in a self-deprecating joke. Mitsuri grabbed his hand, recognizing how cold he was. 

“Please don’t. That’s not funny,” she said with a slight frown. 

“No, it’s not. It’s just sad,” the chef’s lips turned down and paused. She scooted closer to him, her knees brushing against his thigh. She knew his self image was poor, but she did not want to hear it. There was so much to appreciate about him. Though she struggled with it too...

“He left and never saw her again. Supposedly, he called, but she never answered. Given the timing, I was probably conceived the last time they saw each other,” he furrowed his brow. “My mother would not have known she was pregnant, so Akira didn’t not lie about that. A few months later she moved here to take care of her sister’s daughters.” 

“It’s not what I was expecting. Not that I was expecting much,” Obanai said. “My mother was right about one thing though, Akira was a coward. He lied to her despite knowing they had no chance at a future. He said he loved her, but he decided to obey tradition and follow his parents’ will.” He squeezed Mitsuri’s hand tightly for a brief second. “It was cruel and if you love someone you tell them the truth even if it hurts,” he swallowed and met her with a steady gaze. She could not look away and she licked her lips. 

“That’s not why you came here though,” Obanai shook his head. “I’m not sure where to start. It all rolls together.” His palm was beginning to sweat. “It’s worse than what Akira ever did,” he shut his eyes and lowered his head. “I promised to tell you though. Everything.” 

“Oba,” Mitsuri whispered, her hand cupping his cheek and turning his face towards her. He opened his eyes. She gave him a small smile when their eyes met. 

“Whatever happened. I’ll be right here. I’m not running. I would never run from you. We’re together and I can’t imagine not being with you, so whatever happened… I’m here.” Her thumb stroked his ruined skin. She glanced down at his lips. “It won’t change the way I feel about you,” Mitsuri gave him a featherlight kiss.

His heart stuttered, touched by the kind hearted woman sitting beside him. He promised to tell her the truth even if it hurt. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“It didn’t happen to me. It was because of me,” Obanai admitted. She tilted her head in question. “The night I got these scars was the night I escaped. One of my cousins forgot to lock my door. My bedroom was in the basement and I had to walk up the stairs. I knew the violence would only escalate after my mother cut my face. She had already thrown me down the stairs, who’s to say what else she would do?” He asked rhetorically. Mitsuri nodded as she grimaced. 

He was stalling. Mitsuri told him she would not run. He trusted her. The fear trickled in still, anxiety telling him no one would ever care for him. He tapped each finger to his thumb and felt his leg bouncing on the floor. 

“Sorry,” he apologized and forced his leg to stop. Mitsuri moved her hand from his face. 

“There’s no need,” she said as she intertwined their hands. This was real. She was sitting next to him giving him the time and space to tell her about the incident. She was far better than he was, she always would be. Her empathy and warmth were unmatched. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“It’s just us, now, you can tell me anything,” Mitsuri encouraged him to continue. Gentle as ever. Her green eyes gauged his facial expressions. He set his hand down in his lap, taking in a deep breath. 

Just tell her. Obanai was the only one who could tell her his story. 

“When I got upstairs I had to walk past the steps leading to my mother’s and cousins’ rooms to the front room. I was so scared. My heart was racing, my hands trembled, and my feet were bare. If I was caught my mother would have done far worse than before or put further restraints on me,” he paused as her bottom lip trembled and her eyes looked glassy. “I’m going to make you cry,” Obanai squeezed her hand. He knew this was a possibility.

She blinked rapidly trying to stop the tears, “Please continue. It’s hard to hear, but I want to know everything about you, even the less than perfect sides.” Her voice rose in pitch. He didn’t want to be the reason for her tears. 

He nodded slowly. Only in the last few months had he recognized his mother’s faults so completely. She had no outlet for her emotions. Akira was the reason for her suffering, loss of faith and trust, and abandonment. Obanai was forced to take responsibility for actions he had no control over. He should not have been forced to endure her abuse. With what Akira told him this morning, it reinforced Obanai’s belief she projected her hatred onto her own son. 

“For a long time, I blamed myself for the abuse. It was my fault for looking like my father. In order to make up for his desertion, I had to be her perfect, happy, pretty boy. That’s what she told me. As you can tell she ruined that,” he grimaced as he pointed to his facial scars. Mitsuri’s head turned back to him. 

“That’s not true,” Mitsuri shook her head. “You’re really handsome regardless of your scars,” she said, green eyes meeting gold and teal. “I mean, they are a part of you just like your hair or arm, so they’re not ugly,” she added. “I like you as you are, scars and all.” She was probably the only one to think so. 

Gods, I love you. Mitsuri once told him he was sexy, but they had been in the middle of making love. He attributed it to the heat of the moment, but they weren’t going to tackle his self image issues today. Today’s revelations regarding Akira, his family, and the desire to tell Mitsuri took precedence over that. Obanai brushed his thumb over the back of her palm. 

“I know what I look like, Mitsuri. I’m still learning to accept them. They’re a reminder of everything I endured by my relatives' hands. My mother made me believe I was responsible for the abuse… I internalized it for a long time, but I don’t blame myself anymore. I never deserved to be hurt,” he explained, facing her. Mitsuri’s eyes were growing redder and puffier as he continued. He cleared his throat. 

“When I got to the front room, I was making my way to the door when I heard something hit the ground. It spooked me and I ran as quickly as I could out of the house,” his lips twitched. “I bumped into a table. There was a lit candle on the table…It caught the curtains on fire,” he looked away from her, shutting his eyes to let the information sink in. This was it. With this he would know if she would run the minute she realized what he had done. He found her soft gaze again. Her right side was blurring as he felt tears form at the corners of his own eyes. Fuck. 

“I didn’t stop, I just ran. I didn’t stop until I found another house. An older man answered the door. It was the middle of the night and a 12 year old boy appeared at his front door. I must have frightened him. I had gauze over my face, my feet were bleeding, and I had difficulty speaking. Anytime I opened my mouth wider than this,” he parted his mouth a fraction, “the wounds would open.” Mitsuri covered her mouth. 

“Oh, Oba,” she choked out a sob. Mitsuri leaned her head into his temple and reached around his shoulders to embrace him. He froze for a second before he inhaled deeply, finding comfort in her familiar scent. Vanilla and sakura blossoms. Just a little bit more and she would know the worst thing he’s ever done. 

“When I finally got the words out, the man called emergency services…By the time the fire department got there the house was gone along with-” he swallowed. A small fraction  of the guilt still resided in his spirit. It was becoming easier every time he spoke about the incident. Mitsuri deserved to know if she wanted to be with him. “My mother and three of my cousins-” 

“No-they, but-” Mitsuri could not help herself from blurting out. She was smart enough to know how this story ended. 

“Died in the fire. My last cousin lived. She blamed me for everything and said I should have the one to burn to ashes and that she should have never helped me. She bandaged my face after it happened. Shinjuro was one of the firefighters there. He took me to his home despite protocol and adopted me,” he finished. 

Obanai could not figure out what else to say. He told her. Finally, after months of tormenting himself with how, when, and what he would tell Mitsuri about the incident. Her face was warm and splotchy from crying. His heart pounded. Mitsuri’s arms tightened around his frame. She bowed her head onto his shoulder and he felt hot tears. Her breathing sounded congested. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted though it sounded muffled against his shoulder. She sniffed. He reached up and stroked her pink hair believing it would calm her. In reality, the motion helped soothe his nerves. He’d been so worried about revealing his whole past would be the other shoe dropping. Yet, she was still embracing him instead of recoiling in horror. 

“Can you hold me?” Mitsuri asked, lifting her head. He wrapped his free arm around her back and pulled her closer, so she was sitting in his lap. Her head returned to his shoulder and her arms encircled his neck. Her weight calmed him. Obanai kept one arm around her mid back and the other on her knee to keep her from falling off accidentally. 

“I carried the guilt ever since. In the last year, I’ve worked on sifting through my memories of that night and recognizing it wasn’t entirely my fault. I never should have been put in a position where I had to escape my own family,” he turned his head so his cheek rested on Mitsuri’s head. It was almost easier to talk about what happened without looking at her face. 

 “Yesterday, I visited my family’s old property. I needed to go back to the beginning,” he continued. Mitsuri tensed in his arms. His hand traced small circles over her back, using the motion to comfort her and himself. “Because of the guilt and shame, I carried my family for 16 years. The basement they held me in was still there… I told them goodbye.” 

Silence followed except for Mitsuri’s sniffling. He could have told her a little bit at a time to ease the revelation, but every part of this was a landslide. If he didn’t tell her the whole story it wouldn’t make sense. 

“I won’t hold you accountable if it changes how you see me or if you want to leave,” he loathed how shaky his voice was. His temperature rose, fearing the worst. As much as he ached to keep her cradled in his arms he would let her go. The choice was hers. Mitsuri lifted her head, shaking it softly.

“Never,” she reached for his face, fingertips brushing the scars. “You were forced to make a decision based on the circumstances. Like you said if they caught you, who knows what would have happened? I don’t want to even think about the possibility of never meeting you.” Her body shivered. “I meant what I said. I care about you. Learning about your escape and their deaths doesn’t change that.”

There was never a better person than the woman next to him. At every turn, she accepted him and this was no different. Now another question loomed in his mind. 

Mitsuri’s body trembled with a mixture of emotions. On some level she was glad. She was glad he was the one to survive and not his mother or cousins. Was she cruel to think that? Guilt, suffering, and fear rose to the surface. Obanai could have died before they even had the chance to meet if he had not escaped. That thought terrified her more than it should. She would not have known the difference. 

Their connection, this red string of fate would have been slashed before they had a chance. On some level she would have been missing him. No one else made her feel the way he did. Maybe she was naive, but she felt as though he was her soulmate. She hoped he felt the same or something close to it.  

“You shouldn’t have gone back alone. I would have gone with you,” Mitsuri tucked a loose strand of black hair behind his ear. I’d go anywhere with you.

“I wasn’t alone,” he said before swallowing. “I brought Sanemi with me. We were driving back when you called,” he glanced down. “I had to do it before you got back.” 

“Why?” Mitsuri questioned. He looked up, his eyes focused on her. Gods, he’s striking. They were more intense and purposeful than usual as he studied her face. She blushed thinking of the other times he showed this much intensity. Right before their first kiss and first night together.

“I had to be sure I could leave the past behind me and have the courage to tell you,” he explained. “Now I can move on with my life. I always wanted you to know the truth. I was just scared how you would react.” He adjusted his arm around her. “You deserved to know before I asked, so you could make an informed decision.”

“What do you mean?” Her tears were starting to subside. Her palms grew sweaty, unsure of what the next words out of his mouth would be. He caressed her cheek before carding his long fingers through her hair. 

“You asked if I wanted to be your date for the wedding and I know we told our friends we are together. But I never asked you,” he leaned closer. Her heartbeat quickened in anticipation. “Do you want to be my partner, officially?” he asked, hypnotizing her with his amber and teal eyes. She would never grow tired of them. 

She bobbed her head up and down enthusiastically, unable to answer with words. He closed his eyes and kissed her tenderly. Her lips yielding to his smooth lips. On the edges, she could feel the scar tissue, but it did not matter. His hand gripped the base of her neck, pulling her into his orbit. She poured every emotion she could into the kiss. There was a buzz in her mind as they pressed against each other, closing any space between their bodies. 

Knowing the truth only made her realize how grateful she was to have him here at this moment. They were destined to meet on a warm sunny day in August and everything that happened after that. She was thankful to be able to talk, laugh, and be near him. Even more so that she was able to kiss him and with time tell him she loved him. He accepted her for the eccentric woman she was and she embraced him as he was. His self perceived faults, past, and his favorable attributes. It was simple and a foregone conclusion to love him. 

Her chest warmed with the knowledge they were fulfilling the promise of more. He ran his hand up her thigh and kneaded her hip. Mitsuri moaned lightly into the kiss and separated from him. She couldn’t help but smile despite the roller coaster of emotions that surfaced in the last hour. The one that prevailed was her love for the man holding her.

Chapter Text

Mid June - Early July

“This time I will definitely make you happy,” a smooth, calming voice promised, reminiscent of water running over rocks. “And protect you.” 

Mitsuri could not remember the exact details, but she remembered his promise. It was not uncommon to dream about Obanai. There was the time she dreamt of him telling her she deserved the moon, comforting her after their comrades died, and carrying her away from a sword fight. Usually she could recall distinct sights, smells, sensations, and sounds giving her a sense of déjà vu. This time though it was almost as if her body was numb. 

Last night she could only recall Obanai’s promise before she slipped into darkness and then nothing. It just stopped dead. She knew there was more to it. He made her another promise, but it eluded her. If it was important enough then her subconscious would bring it to the surface. 

Mitsuri observed Obanai from her spot on his bed. Her back pressed against the headboard and she held a pillow in her arms. They were officially a couple. She smiled into the grey cotton pillow. Obanai was standing in front of his dresser, changing into his work clothes. He threaded his arms through a dark long sleeved shirt. His arms were lean and well defined. Her chest warmed thinking of the way he held her last night.  

Everything seemed to be falling into place. Mitsuri would have spent forever with his strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her from any harm. She never wanted to leave them. The pine scent on the pillow made her feel safe and sound as she inhaled deeply. Now, they had each other. Forever if he allowed it. 

Last night he finally let her in. After all this time, there were no more secrets between them. She idealized this type of relationship. Open and honest communication with someone who adored her for being herself. She squeezed the pillow tighter. He was hers and she was his. Mitsuri kicked her feet on the bed, unable to contain her energy. Obanai’s phone buzzed on the side table. 

Obanai pulled the shirt over his head and ran his hand behind his neck to pull his shoulder length hair out of the collar. He looked over his shoulder with his teal eye focusing on the woman on his bed. A blush crept over her cheeks when their eyes met. Her heart might as well be hemorrhaging with affection. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked as he pulled his sleeves down to his wrists, carefully covering his old scars.

“How happy I am,” Mitsuri said, pushing the pillow under her chin so he could see her face. He turned towards her and sat down on the bed. 

“I’m glad,” he said, giving her a closed mouth smile while the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I-I love seeing your smile,” Obanai said, stuttering at the beginning. “I always have,” he whispered, glancing away. Any type of emotional vulnerability seemed to make him revert back to shyness. She smiled wider before leaning forward to kiss his cheek. 

“Can I see you when you get off?” Mitsuri asked, setting the pillow aside and scooting closer to Obanai. 

“I’m not sure if you’ll want to. My shift won’t end until one or two in the morning and then I have to be back for the lunch shift tomorrow,” he answered. His phone buzzed again and they both looked over. Tengen’s name popped up along with three unread messages.  

“I don’t mind. I just want to be around you,” Mitsuri said sincerely. “Are you going to answer him? It seems like he really wants to talk,” she held a finger to her mouth, looking between Obanai and his phone. It was rude to keep ignoring their friend. Now Tengen was calling. 

“I’d rather not. He wants to talk about us,” Obanai pointed between them. He grabbed his phone and declined the call with a preset message. “I know he is going to be him and after the past few days, I don’t have the mental capacity for it. Between seeing my family’s property, Akira calling, and telling you what happened, I need a day to recover,” he sighed while his right eye twitched. 

“I could talk to him for you,” Mitsuri replied. “That’s part of being a couple. Your burdens are mine now,” she said sincerely. Being together meant they shared their burdens and triumphs, so neither would ever have to be alone again. He froze studying her face as if he saw her for the first time. 

“Thanks, but I doubt he’ll stop until he talks to me,” he said. His hand reached up to grasp one of her braids. “I’ll see you tonight then?” He asked, fiddling with the lime green tips. 

“Technically, I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she teased before he let out a raspy laugh. The unconventional sound made her feel like she was floating. That buzzing she heard grew louder with each passing day. She hoped it never stopped. 

Tengen: Babe! 

Tengen: Babe!

Tengen: Babe! 

Obanai: Uzui. Stop sending me, ‘Babe!’

Tengen: I’m calling.  

Obanai: Sorry, I can’t talk right now. 

Tengen: When are you free? 

Obanai: Never.

Tengen: Why are you like this? 😢

Obanai: I’m heading into work. Talk to you later. 

Tengen: I’m calling you. Answer me or else!

It took everything in Obanai to drag himself away from Mitsuri this morning. Despite the stress of the weekend, he slept for six hours uninterrupted. He could not even remember the last time he slept for that long or peacefully. Revealing his past allowed him to let down his guard. Mitsuri did not run. She accepted him unconditionally. When he saw her smiling on his bed this morning, he nearly told her exactly how he felt. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he stalled by saying he loved her smile. He promised himself he would not tell her until he was a better person. How could he measure whether or not he was good enough? Previously, he described a good person as someone who cared for others and helped those in need. They were generous, considerate, honest, and empathetic. The best people he knew were Mitsuri, Gyomei, and Kyojuro. He was not even close. 

He made improvements, but not enough to be able to confess. He did not have to be as good as Mitsuri or their friends. I’m honest to a fault and more willing to help my friends than before, but I’m still hypercritical of others and prone to anger.

Obanai pushed his chair back with a sigh. He did not have time to analyze himself today as he would be stuck at the restaurant all day and then tomorrow. Why did he think holding a staff meeting would be a good idea on  Monday? He was overzealous when he should have waited. He walked out of the small office and into the dining area.

Obanai loathed staff meetings. Standing in front of a crowd and being forced to speak never suited him, yet he had decided to take the position and it required this. He inhaled deeply, expanding the air in his lungs before launching into the recent updates and issues in the past month. Chef Urokodaki had an air of authority when he held meetings and kept the kitchen and front staff in line by joking about issues and conflicts. Obanai was not the same. His method was direct and to the point. 

“We’re going to trial a new tonkatsu recipe,” he stated. Chef Agatsuma tilted his head, the blond hair falling to one side. Chef Sabito placed a hand under his chin. 

“Why?” Chef Sabito asked. “We’ve never had complaints regarding the sauce before. Why fix something if it’s not broken?” Several other line cooks nodded in agreement. 

“Because we can do better,” Obanai said blankly. “Our current recipe lacks any defining feature. It’s bland and run of the mill. Customers would be able to buy our sauce off a grocery store shelf. We’re going to add mirin to bring out extra umami. I placed a recipe card on the bulletin board.” Begrudgingly, Sabito accepted the explanation aside from crossing his arms over his chest. Obanai studied him for a second longer before looking down at the agenda he had listed on a sheet of notebook paper. 

“Next, I prepared a few dishes in the kitchen I want everyone to try out. The sakura mochi I added appears to be a hit,” Obanai folded the paper in his hands and shoved it into his front pocket before directing his staff towards the kitchen. 

“I checked Yelp and the mochi is definitely a crowd pleaser,” Aoi confirmed as she stood up from the bar stool. A light draft swept over the restaurant as the front door swung open. The metal frame banged against the wall. Obanai shifted his gaze to the door unsure of who would be entering before they opened for the lunch shift. Everyone made it to the meeting other than Ryo, the dishwasher, who called in sick. 

“Obanai!” A tall man with white hair tied in a tight bun shouted. 

Damnit. Obanai grumbled hearing his friend’s thunderous voice. He should have expected this from the obnoxious man. His kitchen staff looked behind them to see a man in the ugliest, flashiest burnt orange shirt covered in white tigers and white pants. His bizarre outfit was counterbalanced with a cerulean sling across his front holding an infant. He squinted his eyes in disbelief. Was the baby wearing a rhinestone headband? 

“Obanai!” Tengen screamed again from the entrance as if no one could hear him from behind the host’s front desk. His hand shot up to wave at the group. This was what Obanai got for rejecting Tengen’s calls and texts yesterday and earlier today. In his defense, he attempted to set up a boundary by telling the manchild he had work. Though Tengen had never been good at respecting boundaries.

The chef shut his eyes in an attempt to prevent himself from snapping. 1, 2, 3…  

“You’ve ignored all my calls and texts,” Tengen accused him. Obanai’s staff looked precariously between the two men. Obanai’s phone was on silent since entering Nichirin and he had actively been rejecting his friend’s calls. Like he told Mitsuri earlier, he needed a mental break before he saw Tengen. “You have to take responsibility for what you’ve done,” he gestured to the infant. Where is he going with this? Obanai froze in place. Don’t lash out. You can be civil.

“ Our son wants to meet you,” Tengen said, glaring at Obanai. Dear gods, this fucking idiot. His dual colored eyes widened before he pinched the skin between his eyebrows, bowing his head. Tengen had always been one for theatrics, but this was ridiculous. Not in front of his coworkers. All of them were looking between each other and then the two men. Obanai felt his face heat up as a result. At times like this he was grateful for the mask. Aoi tried to stifle a chuckle at Tengen’s antics. 

“ Our son needs you, Babe!” Tengen said, knowing exactly how to embarrass the shorter man. Obanai rubbed his temple and bent his head down. I hate this. Why is he doing this?  

“What about your girlfriend?” Zenitsu raised his hand like a school boy. “The pretty, curvy lady with the pink hair,” he added for clarification. Obanai bristled, thinking of Zenitsu ogling at Mitsuri. He glared at the younger man, who smiled nervously and then practically ran into the kitchen. His staff assumed Mitsuri was his girlfriend for months and Obanai stopped correcting them weeks ago. Tengen gasped in mock horror. Obanai pointed at Tengen. So much for trying to remain calm and collected. 

“He's full of shit,” the chef snapped, gritting his teeth to temper his mood.

“How could you say that?” Tengen asked as he covered his son’s ears though the infant seemed unbothered. 

“He’s an overgrown manchild with two brain cells fighting for third place,” Obanai insulted his friend. Tengen told him he missed Obanai’s prickly, quick to anger personality, so he was more than welcome to it. Obanai could not count this towards becoming a better person. Oh well. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Go into the kitchen and let me know what you think of the new dishes and we’ll discuss them after I handle this situation,” he grabbed Tengen’s elbow and dragged him out of the restaurant. They moved outside and out of view from Obanai’s staff before Obanai let go. The sun was climbing in the sky. 

“You have no right coming to my work and acting like this,” he gestured to Tengen’s flashy attire. “Why are you here? How could Suma let you take your baby to annoy me?” Obanai spat. His scars pulled under his black paper mask as his lips curled back in a snarl. 

“You ignored my calls. You knew the consequences of your actions,” Tengen said, unfazed by Obanai’s irritated tone. “Suma, Makio, and I are running errands and I figured since I was in the area I’d visit you, Babe.” Obanai groaned. This man would be the bane of his existence until the end of his days. 

“Also, you haven’t met our son yet. This is Kannon,” Tengen introduced them. The infant had ebony hair with fuschia eyes looking at Obanai. He’d seen the pictures of Mitsuri smiling down at the infant. She looked so content watching him sleep. “Baby Kannon, this is Babe Obanai,” Tengen smirked as Obanai facepalmed and shook his head in exasperation. 

Kannon made bubbles in response and shifted in the sling. One of the baby’s hands reached for Obanai. He raised his hand and let the baby grasp his pointer finger. Kannon gave Obanai a gummy smile. Despite Obanai’s irritation towards Tengen, he had to admit Kannon was adorable. 

“Hey, Kannon,” Obanai greeted him. 

The boy squeezed his finger and cooed, trying to figure out how to communicate with Obanai. This boy had his entire life to learn how to navigate the world. Kannon would never have to worry about the demons under the bed. Between the Uzuis, Rengokus, Sanemi, Kanae, Mitsuri, and himself, Kannon would have more than enough people to teach, protect, and adore him. More than Obanai ever had. 

Maybe if Akira had been involved, he could have had a semblance of a normal upbringing. Another if did not change Obanai’s past. However, Obanai had the opportunity to change his future. Akira gave him his personal number if he ever wanted to learn more about the Fujihara family. All he had to do was call or message him, which was a feat in itself. He took his hand back, but the boy kept his bright eyes on Obanai. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay mad if I brought Kannon,” Tengen stuck his tongue out. Kannon was already more mature than his father. 

“Don’t test your luck,” Obanai warned him. “What did you want to talk about?” He already knew the answer given the long string of messages Tengen sent. Tengen put both hands on Obanai’s shoulders and stared intensely into his eyes. 

“I need the details on you and Mitsuri,” he gently shook the dark haired man. He would have preferred to delay this conversation, but there was no choice now. Wasn’t it enough to know he and Mitsuri were dating? 

“Hands to yourself,” he grabbed Tengen’s wrists and lifted them off of him. 

“Who made the first move? When did you start dating? Was it the hot springs trip? Did I craft the perfect recipe for romance to spark between you? I’ll happily take credit for it,” Tengen rattled off questions. “Or did you lie and you’ve been fucking this entire time?”

“And you’re wondering why I didn’t tell you anything?” Obanai asked rhetorically before sighing.  

“Come on, I’ve been shipping you two since I heard you first talk about her,” Tengen said. Obanai glanced down at his friend’s chest to check on the baby. The infant seemed unbothered by his father’s loud voice and shut his eyes. His nostrils flared out and a content sigh escaped him. “Give me the deets,” Tengen whined. His fuschia eyes flashed, pleading for answers. 

“Why are you so invested in us?” Obanai asked. 

“I’ve known Mitsuri since college. She’s been mistreated and harassed by guys at the parties. There’s no denying she has a rocking body,” Tengen said. “Those hips-“

“Shut it,” Obanai’s eyes narrowed. He hated hearing people talk about Mitsuri’s body. His blood boiled thinking of how often people equated Mitsuri’s worth to her appearance. She was gorgeous, but she was so much more than that. Obanai loved her no matter her size, shape, or appearance. He adored her kind and lighthearted nature. 

“That! That right there is why. You won’t let anyone say anything offensive about her. Mitsuri is too kind for her own good and lets people take advantage of her,” Tengen explained. 

“As for you, you don’t let anyone touch or harass you. If you care for someone you’ll protect them. Kyojuro told me about how you scolded Sanemi when he insulted Mitsuri and even him. She deserves someone who will protect her and her feelings,” the taller man said in a rare showing of sensibility. 

Gold and teal eyes narrowed on Tengen. Some parts of what he said proved true, but Mitsuri could protect herself. She proved that by standing her ground when she saw her ex. Though, Tengen would not know that. 

“That’s it?” Obanai asked. “You harassed me about Mitsuri for months because you wanted someone to protect her? That’s stupid and sexist. She can handle herself,” he said, agitated. Tengen waved his hands in front of him. 

“That’s not what I am saying. She’s a sensitive girl and people have taken advantage of it before. You’d never do that. You’re too earnest, Obanai,” Tengen countered. “Plus, a little bird told me Mitsuri had a crush on you.” 

“What little bird?” Obanai questioned. It wasn't hard to guess how Mitsuri and him felt. If he had not been so self conscious and self defeating he would have realized she liked him in September. 

“I cannot reveal my source without breaking a vow of secrecy. I played matchmaker for Kanae and Sanemi, so I figured I could do the same for you and Mitsuri. Though, I had to be more subtle with you,” Tengen said. 

“Subtle? You asked if Mitsuri and I were fucking, how is that subtle?” Obanai questioned, forcing himself to lower his voice as a brown haired man walked past them on the street. Tengen laughed again. 

“First off, the look on your face was priceless. Second, I could not outright tell you Mitsuri had a crush like I did with Sanemi. You would have run,” Tengen explained. “Am I wrong?” Tengen raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. 

Obanai bit his lip. Behind the mask, he could feel himself sweating. It wasn’t even 65 degrees. He didn’t run when he learned they had mutual feelings, but he did shut down believing he would ruin Mitsuri if they ever got together. He had been wrong. The way she smiled this morning was still fresh in his mind, calming his anxiety. Nothing else could separate them.

“No,” Obanai shook his head reluctantly. “We’ve been seeing each other since March,” he finally answered Tengen’s original inquiry. “We knew we liked each other since New Years, but I was too- I needed to work on myself before we could be anything,” he sighed thinking back to the beginning of the year. 

Six months altered his life dramatically. He had put in countless hours to better himself and improve his personal relationships between his family and friends. With EMDR, Obanai finally processed the incident and got closure. His depression and anxiety were better managed with the tools Dr. Ubuyashiki taught him. The rest of the year would be devoted to maintenance, so he did not fall into a dissociative or depressive state. Recovery was not linear. There was always the potential of sliding backwards. 

“So, that’s what you meant when you said you had to be better,” the white haired man rubbed his chin before he bent forward so he was at eye level with the other man. “Obanai, I love you as you are. Kyojuro and Sanemi feel the same. Mitsuri does too,” he continued, setting one hand on Obanai’s shoulder. 

Mitsuri- No. There’s no way she could love me. Obanai’s stomach flipped. His heart sped up. It was not possible. There was no way, not with the way he was or is. Not yet. Tengen was simply trying to mess with him. His arms dropped to his sides, not bothering to push Tengen away again. 

“You’re wrong,” Obanai replied. Tengen pulled his hand back and corrected his posture. 

“I’m never wrong. It’s part of being the god of festivals. You dare to question a god?” Tengen asked. Of course, his lie was just another way to taunt Obanai and push him over the edge. He exhaled slowly. That's all it was. Tengen being Tengen. 

“I have to get back to work,” Obanai said, deciding to ignore the god’s boast. He glanced at the baby resting in the sling. “It was nice to meet you, Kannon,” he said softly. The baby’s eyes flickered open and he reached for Obanai. He raised his hand and let the baby hold his finger again. Kannon squeaked excitedly at the littlest interaction while Obanai smiled in amusement. 

Obanai: Tengen stopped by Nichirin during the staff meeting and made a scene 🤦

Mitsuri: Oh no, what’d he do? (Also, good use of the facepalm! 👏 You’ve come so far! )

Obanai: He brought his baby and insinuated I needed to take responsibility for it. (Only thanks to your wisdom.)

Mitsuri: … 🤣  (some people call me emoji-sensei)

Obanai: I had to drag him out of there. (Who?)

Mitsuri: if that's not the most Tengen thing to do, I don't know what is. Flashy ⚡️ (people 😋)

Obanai: Unfortunately, it is. 

Mitsuri: at least it’s over. Also, how cute is Kannon? 😍

Obanai: He’s cute for a baby. Most of them look like potatoes. 

Mitsuri: 🙀take it back! 

Obanai: It’s true though. 

The next text was an image of a baby beside a potato. Mitsuri laughed at the photo and found she could not disagree with Obanai’s judgment. 

Mitsuri: lol Fine, you win. 😛

Obanai: I’m glad you could see it my way. 🐍

Shinobu: So you and Obanai finally got together?

Mitsuri: yep! 🥰

Shinobu: What was the tipping point? When he gave you the socks?

Mitsuri: Maybe 😉

She didn’t recall telling Shinobu about the socks Obanai gave her. Maybe Kanae told her about it. Mitsuri furrowed her brow in thought. 

“Look at the socks Iguro-san gave me,” Mitsuri squealed, pointing at her legs. The green striped socks came to her thigh just a few centimeters below her paletted skirt. Shinobu smiled. Her hair was pinned back with a violet and blue butterfly clip. She wore the dark demon slayer uniform under a butterfly inspired haori. 

Mitsuri blinked and the dream-like sequence vanished. Where did that come from? Was it part of a dream she failed to remember? It must have. She held the side of her index finger to her mouth. It had to be part of a forgotten dream. There was no other explanation. 

Shinjuro watched Obanai from his leather recliner, nodding intermittently as he explained what happened with Akira and his mother. Obanai sat perpendicular on the well worn couch. Anytime he sat down the couch threatened to swallow him with how low the cushions sunk. 

“It’s easy to judge Akira in hindsight,” Shinjuro said. “He was trying to do what he thought was best at the time. It was a shitty thing to do, but love can make a person make poor decisions.” 

“If he loved her, he would have told her the truth,” Obanai grumbled. “He didn’t have to pretend his parents gave their blessing only to turn around the next day to tell her it was a lie. You shouldn’t lie to the people you love.” 

He’d never be able to do that to Mitsuri. The idea of an engagement was foreign, but if he had been engaged to a random stranger while he loved Mitsuri, he would always choose her. Nothing would keep him from her now they were together. If the proverbial other shoe dropped, Obanai would find a way around it. 

“I’m not agreeing with what he did, however, it can be intimidating to go against your parents’ will,” Shinjuro leaned forward to rest his chin on his hand. “My parents had reservations about Ruka. She broke off a prior engagement. They worried she would do the same to me,” he explained with a sigh. 

“It came from a place of love on my parents’ part, however I had faith in Ruka. I told my parents I was marrying her with or without their approval. They gave it knowing, I would have cut off contact otherwise. We were married for thirteen years before she passed,” Shinjuro bowed his head to stare at the ground. Obanai grimaced, sympathizing with his father. Based on what he knew of Ruka she was an incredible person who was quiet, but gentle and wise. If she was still alive when Shinjuro took Obanai in, he wondered if she would have helped conquer his fear of women. 

“Did he have anything else to say?” Shinjuro asked. He lifted his head and Obanai noticed the redness under his eyes. Obanai swallowed, debating if he should offer words of comfort or continue the conversation. He bit the inside of his lip. 

“I know I didn’t meet Ruka, but she seemed like a good person,” Obanai said. “I know Kyojuro and Senjuro miss her too,” Obanai tried to console him, but the words felt foreign. He was not the type of person to offer sympathy. Shinjuro studied his son with glum red-yellow eyes that still glowed like embers. 

“We all do. When she died I had a difficult time accepting it. I found myself drinking sake or beer every night to numb the pain for six months. I only stopped after I yelled at Kyojuro when he asked for my signature. He needed a parent’s signature for school. It made me realize I was the only parent he had left and I’d been selfish. I was not the only one grieving Ruka. I lost my wife and partner, but they lost their mom,” Kyojuro explained, running a hand through his hair. His eyes clouded over. 

“I had to take care of my boys, so I pushed my pain and suffering aside to be a better father. I threw out every bottle and haven’t touched a drop since. When we met, I saw how terrified you were of the outside world and knew I had to protect you,” Kyojuro shut his eyes. “Ruka believed the strong should protect the weak. If she had lived, she would have wanted to save you,” he finished. 

Obanai blinked, processing what his father meant. He knew Shinjuro refrained from drinking, but never questioned why. He could have ended up an alcoholic like Obanai’s mother. He shifted in his seat and ran his fingers along the seam of his shirt. That was the difference between his blood and adopted family. Shinjuro chose to do better for his children and eventually adopted a broken and abused boy. Tamami chose to succumb to her grief, pulling Obanai down with her. 

Obanai chose to be better so he could live a normal life where his past demons did not dictate his future. One he hoped to share with Mitsuri should she allow it. 

“I wish I had been able to meet her,” Obanai said, this time believing the words. 

“I wish you could have too. She would have loved having a son that looked like her,” Shinjuro gave him a melancholy smile. “Anyway, was there anything else Akira said?” he asked, switching topics. Obanai took the hint. 

“He said he had a daughter named Mimi. She wants to meet me if I ever visit Hiroshima,” the dark haired man rubbed his arm. “She was the one that saw my picture on the food blog and showed Akira apparently. If it had not been for her, I would have never met him,” Obanai said. He was tempted to ask for her number, but he was not ready to introduce himself. There were enough changes in his life. 

“Interesting,” Shinjuro rubbed under his chin, his calm eyes settled on Obanai’s face. “Do you want to go to Hiroshima to meet her or Akira again?”

“I-Not right now,” Obanai stumbled over his words. “Or any time soon. I’m still adjusting to work, planning Sanemi’s bachelor party, preparing for his wedding, and juggling other things. If I were to do anymore, I might have a setback,” he said candidly. He felt his Adam’s apple bob up as he swallowed. 

“A setback?” Shinjuro’s back straightened and his eyes narrowed. “Are you having urges to hurt yourself again?” He turned his whole body towards Obanai, giving him his undivided attention. 

“No, I haven't had any urges in a few months,” the chef explained. He could thank therapy and Mitsuri for his recovery. “I mean if I get too stressed out, I’ll go back to dissociating. I’d rather avoid that happening,” he cleared his throat. Shinjuro relaxed and eased back in his recliner. Relief washed over his face. 

“Good, if you do, call me and I’ll pick you up no matter the day of time,” Shinjuro said. 

“I know,” Obanai dipped his head in acknowledgement. When Kyojuro and Obanai were in high school, Shinjuro said the same thing if his sons were drinking, partying, or causing trouble. Given what Shinjuro just admitted to, he wondered why he let his sons drink. 

Shinojuro’s own father had been strict and disciplined him for stepping out of line. He wanted to ensure his children were comfortable enough to call him if they were in trouble. There were many times, Shinjuro picked up Kyojuro from a party drunk. Obanai called once when he and Sanemi tried shrooms for the first time. The shrooms made Obanai incredibly paranoid and have a panic attack in an empty parking lot. Shinjuro picked them up and let the morning after be a lesson. Obanai woke up nauseous and light headed. He never took shrooms again. 

“There was something else I wanted to tell you,” Obanai tapped his knee before clearing his throat. “You know Mitsuri, the woman I brought to Kyojuro’s birthday party?” Shinjuro nodded. Obanai bit the inside of his cheek. He worried how Shinjuro would respond given the last few minutes. “She and I are dating,” Obanai lowered his voice, tempted to look away. 

“I should have guessed. The way you looked at her gave it away. That and showing her your scars,” Shinjuro said with a closed mouth smile like Senjuro. “She seems like a sweet girl. Feel free to bring her over anytime.” His brow relaxed. 

“I will,” Obanai promised. 

“Kanroji!” One of the baristas set down her iced coffee with caramel on the counter along with Kanae’s flat white. They were meeting at the bridal boutique for a fitting and then finalizing plans for the bachelorette party. Some of their sorority sisters were still on the fence about whether or not they could come. 

“Thank you!” Mitsuri chimed, grabbing the drinks and throwing a few dollars in the tip jar. When she turned she felt a pair of eyes on her. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. She lifted her gaze to scan the cafe. All the tables were full of couples, families, and people working on their laptops. She didn’t recognize anyone though. Biting the inside of her cheek, she looked at her drinks. 

“Mitsuri,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke up. The young woman turned her head to see a tall man with greying red-blond hair standing up from his table. He situated himself in a corner, shrouded by two large snake plants. 

“Oh hi, Shinjuro!” She greeted and walked towards him. He hadn’t shaved in awhile based on his light scruff on his cheeks and jaw. The last time they saw each other was Kyojuro’s birthday party. His table was covered in papers and an older Toshiba laptop. He pulled out a chair for her, but she shook her head. 

“I actually have to meet up with Kanae soon, so I can’t stay,” Mitsuri explained, trying not to be rude. “What are you working on?” She pointed at the piles of papers. The man glanced down at the documents. 

“Genealogy and cross referencing it with historical records,” Shinjuro answered. 

“Obanai mentioned you were interested in family history. He said one of your ancestors was a general for Ashikaga Tau-Takuka? No, sorry, that’s wrong,” Mitsuri said, flushing. She had never been the best at remembering names or historical figures. 

“ Takauji Ashikaga,” Shinjuro corrected her.  “He was the founder for the Ashikaga shogunate during the Muromachi period. Our ancestor, Rengoku Sujuro, fought and died for Ashikaga. He served his lord faithfully until the end. The Rengoku family has always been drawn to honorable professions whether it was the military, police, or firefighting.” His red-yellow eyes studied Mitsuri calmly. She was glad they were less intense than his son’s piercing owl-like gaze. “I’m surprised Obanai brought it up. Kyojuro is the only one really interested in our family history. He’ll be here in a little bit.”

“I was asking Obanai about your hobbies and interests before Kyojuro’s party,” she admitted. “I wanted to know more about you, so I didn’t make a complete fool of myself like I did with Senjuro,” she laughed lightly. Shinjuro’s lips curled up. 

“Senjuro said you thought he was Kyojuro and hugged him. All of the Rengoku boys look the same, so you won’t be the last one to mix them up. It would have been better if they took after Ruka,” a shadow passed over the older man’s eyes. Obanai said his father was still deeply affected by his wife’s death. She was in her early 30s when she passed.

“Maybe not in looks, but I’m sure they do in other ways,” Mitsuri tried to comfort him. His red-yellow eyes softened. 

“Senjuro takes after her the most. He's compassionate and caring while Kyojuro shares her sense of justice,” Shinjuro said with a nod. 

“She would be proud of them. Kyojuro is a firefighter and then Senjuro is going to school to be a nurse,” Mitsuri said. “Both are honorable careers. Plus, they’re so friendly. Kyojuro made me feel welcomed right away when I met him.” 

“That’s kind of you to say. Kyo has that effect on people,” Shinjuro commented and then looked past Mitsuri. She turned her head to see what he was looking at. His elder son, Kyojuro walked into the cafe and surveyed the room. He wore a white t-shirt with a cartoon shiba inu eating ramen noodles and maroon pants. She wondered if Kyojuro and Tengen went to the same clothing store and if they could show her where it was. 

“Mitsuri!” Kyojuro beamed and strode over. He stretched his arms out wide and hugged the pink haired woman tighter than necessary. With the two drinks in her hands she could not hug him back without spilling one. 

“Congrats to you and Obanai! Tengen and I were worried we’d have to force you into a room together to have one of you confess. Good thing we didn’t. How embarrassing would that be?” Kyojuro let go of her with a soft chuckle at the middle school tactic. 

“Thanks, but no that wouldn’t be necessary,” she shifted her gaze back to Obanai’s father. His face remained neutral. Had Obanai told him about their relationship? “Obanai and I are dating. We made it official a few days ago.” 

Mitsuri felt her face warm as Shinjuro smiled widely. Her mother and sisters had the same reaction when she told them over Facetime. Meesha said she’d have to meet him the next time Mitsuri visited or if Meesha visited her. 

“He told me the other day. Congratulations,” Shinjuro said, his brows softened. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Mitsuri.”

“Same here!” She beamed and glanced at the clock. If she didn’t leave now she was going to be late for the dress fitting. “I’ll see you around then. Kanae’s waiting on me,” she said and attempted to wave while holding her iced coffee. 

“We’re going to have to take in the bust another centimeter if you lose more weight, my dear,” the seamstress noted as she pinched the extra fabric on Kanae’s wedding dress. Her dress was a full length ball gown, an ivory slip overlaid with tulle. It was embellished with floral lace and beading on the bodice and quarter sleeves. A light purple belt went around the waist to accentuate Kanae’s waist. She stood on a pedestal in front of a mirror with the studio lights directed at her. 

“I just keep losing weight. It’s all the stress,” Kanae frowned. She crossed her arms in front of her chest as the seamstress pinned the dress to properly fit the future bride. No doubt this woman had experience catering to brides as she gently rubbed Kanae’s shoulder. 

Mitsuri stood up from the couch and walked up to her friend. The seamstress said she would be right back with more pins. She smiled politely at the pair of women. Mitsuri stepped up to the platform and hugged the taller woman from behind. They looked in the mirror. Kanae glowed in her ivory gown while Mitsuri wore the wisteria colored bridesmaid dress they picked out months ago. 

“Either way you look beautiful,” Mitsuri said, resting her chin on her friend’s shoulder. “Your weight doesn’t define you. If you want, we can have girls' nights where we only eat dessert and comfort food,” she added. Kanae laughed and Mitsuri let go of her. 

“Do you think you could have Obanai cook for us?” Kanae asked, half joking as she turned to face her. 

Out of all their friends, Kanae had been the most encouraging in her subtle manner when she asked about Mitsuri’s relationship. Tengen’s wives sent her private messages asking for specifics. That and questions about their sex life, which made her blush. She decided not to answer those. Kanae had more tact and waited for Mitsuri to share what she wanted and allowed her the space to decide what she was going to tell her. She appreciated the dark haired woman more for it. Kanae had always been attuned to others’ emotions. It’s what made Mitsuri and her best friends. 

“I could ask, but he’s having a hectic week. We’ll have to rely on my cooking, baking, and take out for now,” Mitsuri let go of Kanae. “You’ve never complained before,” Mitsuri stuck out her tongue. Kanae’s light purple eyes watched her with a small smile. 

“I’m glad it worked out between you and Obanai,” Kanae said. “I was pessimistic, but you’ve been hurt before. I worried you would be disappointed again. He’s an honest guy, just shy and quiet,” Kanae relaxed her arms. “At least with me.” 

Mitsuri was not sure how much she wanted to share with Kanae. Obanai’s past was complicated when it came to women. Between his mother and cousins, he grew to fear women and it took him years to feel comfortable enough to talk to his female coworkers, let alone his friends’ significant others. Mitsuri counted herself as the exception to his fear of women or she had just been too persistent to become his friend. He still got nervous around Kanae and Tengen’s wives, but he was working on it. 

“It can be hard to get to know him, but he’s worth it,” Mitsuri said, “but we’re not here to talk about me or him. We’re here for you.” She clasped her hands over Kanae’s, squeezing. 

“Let’s talk about the bachelorette party. So far we have me, you, Shinobu, Kanao, the Uzuis, and two of our sorority sisters coming. We’re still waiting on your cousins and three sorority sisters,” Mitsuri explained. Makio and Hinastusu had to convince Suma to leave Kannon with Tengen for one night. Suma was a dedicated mother and did not want to miss a single moment with the boy.

“You can count Hitomi and Rin out,” Kanae sighed. “Hitomi has to work that weekend and Rin won’t go without Hitomi.” 

Mitsuri took a mental note to send them a message later to verify. The plan was to visit the botanical gardens in a neighboring city. They would spend the night there and bar hop. They rented out several hotel rooms for the occasion. Though they might be able to cancel one of them if Hitomi and Rin were not coming. That would save them some money. 

The seamstress walked back in with a pin cushion attached to her wrist. Mitsuri stepped aside and watched the seamstress flit around Kanae. She was going to make such a beautiful bride with her elegant features and effortless grace. Sanemi was going to freak out when he saw her coming down the aisle next month.

She would be standing beside Shinobu, ready to hold Kanae’s bouquet. On the other side, next to Sanemi would be Genya and Obanai. Mitsuri held a hand over her mouth as she smiled thinking of Obanai in a suit. 

“I got everything you asked for. Red bean paste, flour, sugar, evaporated milk, and-“ Obanai turned to see Mitsuri scooping random amounts of flour into a large mixing bowl. She wasn’t using a measuring cup or weighing the ingredients or sifting the flour. In most of the recipes he read the amounts were very clear and left no room for error. 

What is she doing? He squinted his eyes in an attempt to understand her method. She said she enjoyed baking, but even in his experience as a chef would not blindly add ingredients together. There were certain proportions that needed to be met in order for the consistency, flavor, and texture to be cohesive. 

“Are you going to measure that?” Obanai asked, pointing at the ceramic bowl. Mitsuri paused and looked at him innocently. A cloud of flour wafted up in front of her chest. 

“Nope, I know the recipe by heart,” she said and then poured sugar directly into the bowl. He tilted his head. “You add two helpings of flour to one helping of sugar,” his partner explained, which added to his confusion. 

“What are ‘helpings’? I’ve never heard that term,” Obanai tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe ‘helpings’ were exclusively used by bakers. She had mentioned she wanted to be a baker when she was younger. 

“You know, helpings,” Mitsuri said again like he was supposed to know immediately what she meant. When he raised his eyebrows, she added, “It’s like knowing the proper amount based on feeling.”

“Wait, are you measuring based on vibes?” He questioned. She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Exactly! You get it,” her eyes crinkled at the corners, clearly delighted. That did not make any sense at all. 

“So, you don’t use any cups or scales to measure the ingredients?” He prodded further. 

“There’s no need. I got it all stored up here,” she simply shook her head and pointed to her left temple. “It’s where the vibes come from,” Mitsuri laughed. She set aside the sugar and flour and started adding in the rest. Eggs, vanilla, butter, and baking soda. He bent his head down and ran a hand over his face as he watched her. 

It was so chaotic and he had a hard time controlling his facial expressions as she worked. He tapped his fingers on the island counter. It made him uneasy, but it wasn’t her fault. He liked routine, structure, and consistency. As a chef, he kept everything meticulously organized, followed the recipes, and then adjusted accordingly. The rigid structure kept his anxiety at bay. 

Mitsuri was immersed in her own world as she mixed the ingredients together for the manju cookies. She hummed softly and glanced at Obanai from the corners of her eyes. He adored her, but her method was unorthodox. It was too unorganized and nothing she baked would be consistent in flavor or texture. Looking back her batches of matcha cookies were tasty, however the texture between the two were completely different. It was difficult to watch with his perfectionist tendencies. Try to be less hypercritical. It’ll turn out fine. She’s made them before and they don’t have to be perfect. 

Mitsuri asked him to preheat the oven. He grabbed parchment paper and a baking sheet. She rolled the dough into a cylinder and cut it into eighteen disks. 

“My mom always says I add too much red bean,” Mitsuri said, standing beside him. He nodded and used a rounded tablespoon to add the red bean. He could at least control this part. As he did, Mitsuri folded the dough over the paste and pinched the edges delicately. Her slim fingers made quick work of the dough. Mitsuri set the baking sheet in the oven and turned on a timer. At least she didn’t leave that to vibes. She turned to face him. 

“It looks like a professional made them,” the chef complimented, pointing at the cookies. Each one looked like a half moon and neatly folded over where she pinched the dough together. Her cheeks flushed at the praise and she pushed a strand of cotton candy hair behind her ear. 

“Thanks! I told you I wanted to be a baker, right?” Mitsuri asked. He remembered everything she told him. Every memory and fact she told him he cherished. They made her who she was. 

“You mentioned it. I never asked, but why did you choose to be a teacher instead of a baker?” Obanai watched her as she put her finger to her lips in thought. 

“I wanted to do a lot of things growing up. A baker, a teacher, a firefighter, and a veterinarian. In second grade, I was asked to pick a career to report on and I had a hard time deciding. There were endless possibilities, you know?” Mitsuri said. “My teacher noticed I struggled to pick one. She told me I could be whatever I wanted to be and no matter what I did I’d make a difference in the world. It was really encouraging and I wanted to be just like her,” she lowered her hand before glancing at the timer. Only a few minutes left. 

“Plus, I always loved kids. It was only natural for me to want to teach them. There’s nothing better than watching a kid learn something new. Their whole face lights up and they get so excited that they start telling everyone what they learned,” Mitsuri laughed like wind chimes. When she talked her face brightened like he imagined her students did. 

“If I had become a baker or anything else, I don’t think I’d be as happy. Oh and having summers off is a huge benefit,” the pink haired woman added. 

“I can only imagine,” Obanai commented just as the timer went off. Mitsuri put on his dark grey oven mitts and pulled the tray out. The smell of sugar and vanilla filtered through the air. His nose wrinkled, still sensitive to sweeter scents. 

“I hate waiting for them to cool down,” Mitsuri looked back at him as she set the tray down on the stove. She used a spatula to place them on a wire cooling rack. She vigorously waved the oven mitts over the cookies to speed up the cooling process. Even the way she furrowed her brow in concentration endeared her to him. 

Eventually, the half moon cookies cooled down enough for them to eat. Mitsuri set two on a plate and offered it to Obanai. His mouth twitched as he picked up the sweet. He still had an aversion to overly sweet, oily, flavorful, or rich foods. There was the anticipation they would make him sick or nauseous due to his childhood. Back when his mother would force feed him decadent food and say he was ungrateful when he complained of stomach pain or puked afterwards. Bile rose in his throat.

“Is something wrong?” Mitsuri asked, leaning closer than before. He stilled, but met her thoughtful green eyes. She knew he disliked most deserts, but he never explained why. He bit the inside of his cheek. 

“I have a hard time eating food sometimes. Erm,” he swallowed. “As a kid I would get sick from rich, sweet, and oily foods. That’s why I prefer bland or bitter foods,” Obanai explained and looked down at the manju, averting his gaze. 

“Oh, I never knew. You don’t have to eat it unless you want to,” Mitsuri said, her shoulders slumped slightly. He could tell she was disappointed, but she tried to hide it for his sake. What did he do to deserve her? Her hand reached for the cookie he held, but he pulled it back. 

“I’ll try it,” he raised his hand to his mouth and took a hesitant bite. The dough was buttery and flaky. The red bean filling Mitsuri crafted was a fraction too sugary. “The filling should be more savory. The last time I had manju-“

“I thought you said you never had it before?” Mitsuri said, tilting her head to the side. Why did he say that? He hadn’t had it before. 

“I haven’t,” he shook his head. “I must have had something like it before, sorry,” he apologized. She gave him a small smile before biting into her cookie. Why did he say that? 

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Several of the Hashira were in residence at the Corps headquarters including Shinobu, Gyomei, Sanemi, and himself. In the last letter he received from Kanroji, she was coming back today after visiting her family. It was possible she was already back and unpacking her bags. They had plans to go out with the rest of the Hashira tonight. He sighed. It had been a month since he last saw her. They regularly exchanged letters, but it was a poor substitute for speaking in person. He missed seeing her wide smile and hearing her cheerful voice. Even the way she met his gaze out of the corners of her eyes during Hashira meetings.

Tomorrow, Master Ubuyashiki was sending him out on a patrol further north around Fukushima. There were accounts of several lower level demons ambushing travelers. Two demon slayers came back severely injured when they went to investigate. Weaklings. The only bright side would be the sense of accomplishment after killing the demons, ensuring others safety. It was one of the only times he felt good about himself, even if it was fleeting. 

From his perch on the roof, Obanai glowered as he thought of the younger demon slayers. With every Final Selection, the Corps grew weaker. It was one of the reasons they had not been able to kill an Upper Moon in the past 100 years. 

To his knowledge, the last person to have contact with an Upper Moon was Kanae Kocho. It had been four years since she was killed. He only met her a few times in passing. Sanemi spoke highly of her though he was biased. Sanemi had planned to confess his love when the Flower Hashira returned from the mission that ultimately killed her. 

An ill omen for any Hashira that loved someone. He closed his eyes and saw Mitsuri’s face in the afternoon light. Obanai was never going to tell her, not when it was his fate to die. She would be disgusted if she ever knew. A filthy, pathetic man pining after her. Mitsuri could never love a person like him. They were friends. Besides, she was in love with someone else. His mouth twisted and let his thoughts drift back to his original train of thought. 

Since Kocho’s death there had only been rumors of the higher ranked demons. His blood boiled. Every year that passed, the demons grew stronger while the Corps grew smaller. He gritted his teeth. Mitsuri asked him to give the new slayers a chance to prove themselves. It was difficult when one was a nervous wreck, a boy raised by boars, a girl who could not make a decision without tossing a coin, Sanemi’s brother who had no swordsmanship skills, and the last one. Kaburamaru hissed, recognizing the shift in Obanai’s mood. 

The last one was the Kamado boy who carried the box that contained a demon. He claimed the demon was his sister. She may have been his sister, but she was long dead. The creature that replaced her was a cruel, sadistic demon. It was only a matter of time before the girl went on a rampage and murdered innocents. A muzzle would do nothing if she was enraged, not even her brother would be able to stop her. At the trial, Master Ubuyashiki ordered him and Sanemi to stand down and not to harm the boy or demon. He clenched his fist. He respected the leader of the Corps, but he was making a mistake in trusting Kamado and the box demon. 

Three of the new slayers were sent out to assist Rengoku with a mission along with that demon. Rengoku was one of the strongest Hashira and would have no issue killing the girl if she acted out of line.

Obanai tapped his thumb to each of his fingers. Out of the corner of his good eye, he saw a lone crow soaring towards him. Great. Let’s see how this crow can make my day worse. The bird landed and stared inquisitively at the Serpent Hashira. 

“Get on with it,” he ordered gruffly. Kaburamaru turned to stare at the bird, flicking out his tongue in displeasure. He reached his hand up to stroke the white scales as a means to calm himself. 

“Cawww! Rengoku Kyojuro is dead. Upper Moon Three killed the Flame Hashira,” a crow called out. His eyes narrowed on the crow as his heart froze.  

“I won’t believe it,” he said as he frowned at the bird. He stood on the roof of his house, staring at the clouds. There was no way Rengoku was dead. It was not possible. Kyojuro was one of the strongest Hashira. An ache built in his chest, one he was unfamiliar with. 

“ Rengoku Kyojuro is dead,” the crow said again as if Obanai had not heard it the first time. The bird flapped its wings and flew off the roof. It kept announcing to the world that the Flame Hashira was dead. The crow would not lie. This creature did not have the capability to lie or be malicious. What purpose would it serve? 

“I won’t believe it,” he whispered to Kaburamaru, repeating the phrase. I don’t want to believe it. Obanai was raised with Kyojuro and Senjuro following his family’s deaths. Kyojuro always wore a smile and spoke with unmatched enthusiasm. He was one of the only Hashira that even matched Obanai’s logic and intelligence when it came to battle strategy. He would never get to talk to his friend again. 

Obanai stepped to the edge of the roof and stared at the ground before jumping off. The ache in his chest was building and he could feel the corners of his eyes stinging. The other Hashira would be hearing the news as the crow flew from estate to estate. 

He needed to check on Mitsuri. She had been Rengoku’s tsugoku and they shared a close bond. She would be devastated when she heard. He turned and ran in the direction of the Love Hashira’s estate, ignoring the looks from the people he passed. 

Before long, he stood in front of Mitsuri’s estate. It was bright and inviting, much like its master. The wood stain was a warm tawny shade with an open concept. He could hear the crow still announcing the news. If she were here, she would know. Mitsuri, please, be okay. 

Obanai knocked on the sliding door and waited. It was not long until the door slid open and he saw Mitsuri’s attendant. The woman’s dark eyes widened seeing the Serpent Hashira, but bowed deeply as she moved to the side to allow him entry. 

“Miss Kanroji is in the kitchen, Sir,” the elderly woman said. Obanai barely glanced at her as he swept past her and sped towards the kitchen. He smelled a mixture of vanilla, matcha, and ginger. His nose wrinkled at the contradictory scents. He stepped over the threshold to see Mitsuri sitting in the middle of the floor. Her eyes were red, cheeks puffy from crying. She held a bowl in her hands as tears fell. 

“Miss Kanroji,” Obanai greeted her in a concerned tone. Her head turned towards him, green eyes haunted. 

“Iguro-san, I’m making manju,” she hiccupped. She set the bowl aside and moved to stand up, but he raised his hand to stop her. Her hands shook before she set them down in her lap. He put away his usual restraints. The Serpent Hashira sat down beside her and brought her into his embrace. Grief made her shiver against him. “He’s gone,” she buried her face into his chest. 

“I know,” he murmured calmly. He hardly ever let himself touch her unless she initiated it. His hands were stained with the sins of his family. He covered his hands with his haori often to avoid tainting anyone, especially her. Except she sought out his touch whether it was to hold hands or hug him. It was during times of distress he let himself hold her, like now. Kyojuro had been her mentor and friend. They were similar. Kind, generous, empathetic. Better people than him. A snake slithering in the dark seeking to steal their warmth. He glowered at himself. There was no room for his self loathing when the love of his life needed support. Miss Kanroji was his priority. 

“Rengoku was one of the best people I ever knew,” he began. He felt her inhale sharply as she tried to control her breathing. All their breathing techniques were forgotten in the wake of death. Tears stained his haori. “He was easy to talk to, made friends quickly, and never let people down.” 

“He looked out for me and-” she hiccupped. “He always gave me the last dumpling when we went out. He was like my brother,” she sniffed and tightened her hold around him. Her strength pushed the air out of his lungs and he coughed. Mitsuri loosened her grip and gave him an apologetic look, peeking up past her long dark lashes. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. He bent his head and held her gaze steady. How and what he felt did not matter, only Mitsuri mattered. Seeing her this sad and defeated was not something he ever wished for her. He touched her cheek, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of his haori. “We’re all going to miss him,” he added, his voice cracking. 

“When- When we were younger, Kyojuro liked to act out some of the plays he read. He forced me and Senjuro to join him and threw Shinjuro’s old clothes over us as costumes. It was comical, really. Three young boys in clothes too large and tripping over themselves. It was one of the few times I felt normal-” Obanai paused, studying Mitsuri’s face. Her mouth opened slightly and waited for him to continue. 

“Kyojuro always knew how to make others feel better. It’s who he was. His last action was to protect his juniors. It would have been his honor to do so.” Obanai swallowed. Kyojuro’s mother, Ruka, instilled a strong sense of justice and the need to protect others into the Flame Hashira. The strong were meant to protect the weak, Ruka told Obanai once. He had only known her for a few months before she succumbed to her illness. It was her version of a demon, but she never allowed it to interfere with her care for her family. Even though, he had been a traumatized child, Ruka did her best to comfort him. Her crisp voice had been different from his family's. If she had lived longer, she might have assisted him in learning how to be less apprehensive around women. It was too late to ponder on such things. Mitsuri grasped the back of his striped haori and he brought her head into his chest again. 

“You know wherever he is now, he’s not alone. He made friends wherever he went. People were drawn to his charisma and outgoing nature. Not even death will keep him down,” Obanai said. He was not sure what else to say. What else could he say? Mitsuri was usually the one talking. The roles reversed. 

The ache in his chest built feeling Mitsuri cling to him. Kyojuro was gone. His brother in everything besides blood was gone. They would never again sit side by side on the Flame Hashira’s engawa and discuss battle tactics, concern for Senjuro and Shinjuro, or Kyojuro’s tsugoku. 

The first time Kyojuro mentioned taking a woman as his tsugoku, Obanai scoffed. Kyojuro insisted his student would be unstoppable by the next Final Selection. It had only been six months away when Kyojuro made the claim. His training was hellish, backbreaking, and rigorous. The amount of power a person had to wield for Flame Breathing was greater than most of the others. Before he met Kocho or Kanroji, the only women slayers he’d met were weak, emotional, and more of a nuisance than they were worth. Kanae Kocho had been an outlier as the Flower Hashira. Between the two women, they proved to be better equipped at destroying demons than most of the Corps. 

Kyojuro was right. Kanroji was unstoppable. His brother had always been a good judge of character, Obanai should have trusted him. He pressed his lips together and shut his eyes. The world grew dimmer without the flame haired slayer. He should have told Kyojuro how much he’d admired his strength, generosity, and experience. It was too late. 

Another sob escaped Mitsuri in the quiet of the kitchen. Her anguish brought his attention back to the present. Obanai ran his hand up and down Mitsuri’s back. The bowl of dough forgotten on the floor beside them. He smelled the air again. Vanilla prevailed over the kitchen outside of Mitsuri’s salty tears. She mumbled something against his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to lose anyone,” she wept, leaning her forehead into his chest. “I can’t lose anyone else,” Mitsuri whispered as she pressed her body closer to him. He could not look too deeply into her actions. She needed comfort and he had been the first to show up. If only he could take away all her pain.  

He could tell her she won’t lose anyone else, but that would be a blatant lie. It was part of their work. She said the same when new recruits died on one of her first missions of a Hashira and wishing she had died in their place. 

“Kanroji,” Obanai said. “We cannot guarantee our lives in the Corps. When I passed the Final Selection, I swore I would fight until my last breath. Other than us, there is no one else that stands between humanity and them. I want to die fighting as many demons as possible and with any luck kill the demon king.”

“No,” Mitsuri looked up from his chest. Her green eyes were glassy, her face was a bright red, and snot dripped down her nose. “I already lost my mentor. I can’t lose-” she sucked in a breath. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t-” her lip trembled before she buried her face in his haori. 

Obanai carded his fingers through her pastel pink hair to cradle the base of her head. With the loss of Kyojuro, Obanai’s defenses broke. The rules he put in place to distance himself from her were forgotten in his wish to comfort her. He turned his face to rest his cheek on the top of her head. Her sweet scent calmed him. His fervent desire to protect her from any affliction took priority. He felt her mumble into his chest again, unable to decipher the words. 

“You won’t lose me,” he said calmly. “Even if I die, part of me will live because I met you. I will live through your memories just like Rengoku will. You’ll never truly lose me, Rengoku, or anyone else you have met,” Obanai explained. Mitsuri inhaled deeply and she sniffed. 

“You think so?” Mitsuri asked innocently. Her green eyes pinning him in place with their sincerity. Her bottom lip trembled. 

“Yes,” he nodded stiffly.  Part of him believed in what he said, but he did not want it to be true. It was his fate to die. He would be honored if Mitsuri chose to remember him. In order to cleanse his family’s sins, he wanted to die and be reborn. Deep down his heart rattled against his chest. Liar.

Eventually, Mitsuri let go of him and grabbed the bowl off the floor. She asked him to help her make manju cookies. They shared memories about Kyojuro until the sun set and moon rose. He carefully pulled down one of the bandages to allow him to take small bites so as not to scare her. The red bean paste was savory instead of sugary as he anticipated. She loved sharing her baked goods with her friends, so he finished it. He just wanted to see her smile again. Eventually, the Serpent Hashira excused himself. If fate had been kinder or allowed him to be the person Mitsuri deserved, he would have stayed and held Mitsuri all night. 

Obanai walked back to his house in a daze. News of the Flame Hashira’s death seemed to have been a lifetime ago. His emotions shifted dramatically since the stupid crow approached him on the roof. The ache in his chest grew. His head hurt and his eyes stung to hold back the tears threatening to spill. In order to save face and ensure Mitsuri’s comfort, he steeled himself against his own grief regarding Kyojuro. 

The first year Obanai spent with the Rengoku family, Kyojuro constantly bothered Obanai. He spoke too loudly and pestered the smaller boy. Obanai insulted him on a daily basis, but everyday Kyojuro greeted him with a smile. It seemed fake. His mother, grandmother, sisters, and cousins all grinned as they cut open his mouth. His blood seeped into the chalice to feed the demon her prized possession. 

Kyojuro’s smile reminded Obanai of his family. Gradually, he realized Kyojuro genuinely cared for others and his bright eyed smile was an offer to talk and empathize. Obanai was unaccustomed to people like him-No, he never actually met a person like Kyojuro before. Even now, the only person who was comparable to Kyojuro’s kindhearted and bold personality was Mitsuri. He appreciated them because he could never be like them. 

He stood on his engawa to watch the moon. Its luminous haze entrancing him. One of the first times he was with Mitsuri one on one he said she deserved the moon. She wanted a life surrounded by her loved ones. It was a life he could not offer her, not unless he was a different person. He was disgusting, vile filth. He needed to die, but then there was the possibility he would never see her again. When he was reborn he may not even be human. 

He admitted he wanted to die fighting the demon king. She was adamant he could not die. It was the only way to redeem his soul after what his family did and what he had done. Mitsuri would never know or understand his need to purge his existence. Though for whatever reason, she cared about the scarred beast. She wanted him to attend her wedding. He tasted bile thinking of another man loving her and giving her everything she could ever dream. It made him bitter, but he could not be the man she needed.

“When I said I wanted to die, it was a lie. I want-” Obanai whispered. The familiar rattle in his chest grew louder. He dug his thumbnail into his index finger as he clenched his fists, nearly hard enough to break the skin. He shut his eyes trying to block out the vision of Mitsuri hand in hand with a shadowy figure. 

The vision was replaced with Mitsuri standing under a Sakura tree waiting for him. Her kimono was royal blue with a scarlet phoenix along the sleeves. She turned to face him with a bright smile, dazzling him. Her hand extended towards him. All he had to do was step forward and take it. His insides churned. 

“I want to live, so I can be with you. I want to make you happy and protect you,” he rested his head on the column letting his words fall to the wind. They would never amount to anything. 

“What I want doesn’t matter though,” he held up his hand to the wood grain as he looked up at the moon. “As long as the demon king dies.” 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Mitsuri’s eyes fluttered open. She could not see anything in the dark, but she felt her lover’s arms holding her close. Mitsuri rotated her head to check if he was awake. She heard him breathing deeply and the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. He’d told her before that he had insomnia and usually slept for three to four hours if he was lucky. The last few times she slept over he’s slept five or more. Her heart fluttered at the implication. He felt safe with her nearby. 

“I want to make you happy,” Obanai murmured into her shoulder blade. “And protect you,” he finished, breathing warm air on her back. 

Goosebumps ran up her spine. His words chilled her. She turned her head back and stared into the dark void of his bedroom. He vowed the same in her dream a week ago. It was the one where she could not feel anything. She trembled at the eerily familiar promise.

In her dreams, they were part of a military force dedicated to killing demons. Mitsuri recognized her love for him, but they were under dire circumstances. At any point, one of them could have died. There was the uncertainty of his feelings, which made her hesitate. Mitsuri knew the feeling. The fear that the person you loved didn’t feel the same. The fear they would not fall with her. Self doubt and insecurities crippled dream Mitsuri. Even now, Mitsuri did not have the courage to tell Obanai she loved him. 

Weren’t her dreams a mere reflection of her subconscious thoughts, hopes for the future, or prevalent thoughts? Except it couldn’t just be a coincidence. Hadn’t he once mentioned he dreamed of being a samurai? There were other times he told her something she dreamt of. Like the time he told her not to diminish herself because of the way others perceived her. 

She trembled again. Were they just dreams? And if they weren’t, what were they?

Chapter Text

Early July

On Tuesday afternoon, Obanai summarized the events from the last two weeks to Dr. Ubuyashiki. He included the visit with Sanemi to his family’s property, the phone call with Akira, and the conversation with Mitsuri. Both about his past and becoming official. The therapist grinned as Obanai spoke. By the time Obanai finished, there were twenty minutes left. 

“You’ve been busy,” he commented, “but it seems everything has been going well considering the circumstances.” 

“You could say that,” Obanai replied, glancing over the office’s serene blue walls and then to the wisteria flower pillows. He let out a breath he’d been holding. “I have been having weird dreams.” 

Obanai explained each dream in detail. The one where he and Mitsuri sat on a tree branch and discussed the Demon Slayer Corps. Another where he wrote a letter to be given to her upon his death. A different one where Mitsuri admitted to loving another person. Then the latest one where Kyojuro died and he comforted Mitsuri in the aftermath. All of them were morbid.

“To be honest, Obanai, dream analysis is not my specialty. The scientific community has found that dreams don’t have any particular reason for why they present the way they do. Most research says dreams are formed randomly from things you experience during the day or they show prevailing thoughts, worries, or memories especially for people with anxiety disorders,” Dr. Ubuyashiki explained. 

He stared at Obanai from his chair. His hand rested under his chin following Obanai’s explanation about his dreams. The counselor tapped a finger against his cheek in thought. His lavender eyes were pensive. 

“Are you saying my dreams mean nothing?” Obanai felt nauseous at the thought. They seemed so real. If he did not wake up from them, he would assume they were his reality. The humid breezes, the feel of Mitsuri in his arms, and the taste of manju. Did it taste savory because he said the last time he had manju it was or was it because that was the last time he had it? He shook his head at the far fetched notion. Demons and monsters did not exist except for the ones he created in his mind. 

Since the last dream, the fantasy realm has haunted him. In the dream, Kyojuro died fighting a demon and he was left to console Mitsuri. It was disturbing. The idea of Kyojuro or anyone else he cared for dying was too much to bear. When he woke the morning after, he hugged Mitsuri closer. Hearing her steady breath and smelling  vanilla-sakura scent brought him back to the present. If she were to- He could not even finish the thought. Obanai clenched his fist at his side. He would never let that happen, not while his heart still beat. 

“Not quite. When it comes to dreams, the meaning is dependent on what you ascribe to it,” the therapist said. 

“What do you mean?” Obanai leaned back against the couch. 

“You said Kaburamaru was in your dreams, correct?” The counselor asked and Obanai nodded. “For you, Kaburamaru is a trusted friend, but for someone else they might have a fear of snakes. Therefore, how you and another person interpret Kaburamaru will be completely different. You’d see him as a positive; others would see him as an omen or a god’s messenger given his white coloring. It’s dependent on how you perceive the dream’s elements, themes, and commonalities. We can still discuss this, but I will not be able to provide much insight. This depends on how you interpret them.” 

Obanai paused. Every dream he had revolved around Mitsuri since they met. He hated them because they stirred up a torrent of emotions of self loathing, defeat, guilt, and shame. Obanai thought he was done with them after he told his family goodbye. However, the last dream proved otherwise. Sighing, he ran a hand through his long hair. He had lived with those negative emotions for so long, they were not going to just vanish in a month. At least the samurai dreams were better than the recurring nightmares from his childhood by a hair. 

“No, I want to discuss them,” he admitted. Identifying and naming his emotions had been beneficial when he first started therapy, perhaps it would help to do the same with his dreams. He could not progress without discussing the dreams. “I got closure after visiting my family’s property and I know I'm not evil or tainted, but…In the dreams I still see myself as a tainted person,” he fiddled with his fingers. He forgot his silicon snake toy at home. “Maybe my subconscious has to catch up with my conscious thoughts? I’m not sure how it all works.” He glanced at Dr. Ubuyashiki. The other man said nothing, but dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“These dreams always seem to center around Mitsuri and our lives as demon slayers,” his mouth twitched and looked down at the floor. “Most of the time they deal with demons, death, and my past or at least correlated. Earlier this year, I thought the demons were supposed to be my depression and anxiety. I know they’re never going to go away one hundred percent, but I thought I was managing them better. It’s frustrating to be put back into that mindset.” 

“You have been better at managing them, Obanai. Try not to downplay your accomplishments and efforts. Again, the dreams will have meaning and power, but only if you allow it,” Dr. Ubuyashiki reminded him. 

“It’s hard to remember when I have to relive-or dream with the same self defeating thoughts I had for years. Every dream reminds me of my past guilt, shame, and self doubt. I’m sick of it,” he gritted his teeth and the back of his mind prickled. His lower jaw tensed. “In the dreams, I refuse to tell Mitsuri how I feel believing I would never be good enough and denying myself a chance at happiness.” Obanai took a deep breath. 

“In the last dream, I told Mitsuri I wanted to die fighting demons,” he furrowed his brow. “It was as if I was giving in to my mental illness because it was easier. Honestly, it would be easier to give up, but I don’t want to be that person. Not anymore.” 

“At the end of the dream, I confessed to myself I wanted to live so I could be with her,” he looked up at the counselor, who’s brow softened. “That’s what I want. I want to love her and have a normal life.” 

The dream from the other night hardened his resolve. Every dream surrounded Mitsuri and his undeniable love for her. His subconscious reinforced he wanted a future with her. That much was certain. He rubbed his temples. A familiar ache grew thinking about what he denied himself in the dream and even now. 

“Have you told her?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. 

“Told her what?” Obanai echoed. 

“That you love her and want a future with her,” the therapist asked. Obanai pursed his lips and shook his head. The scars pulled on his face as he grimaced. “Why not?” 

Why not? The question rang in his head. He bit the inside of his cheek and could feel his insides churn. 

Why didn’t he just tell her he loved her? 

What held him back from telling her every last thought he had about her? 

“I’m still not where I want to be. I don’t have to be perfect, but I’m not good enough. I’m not whole-” Obanai started, but Dr. Ubuyashiki held up his hand to stop him. 

“You’re a person, Obanai. A whole, half, quarter, or section of a person does not exist. You keep putting up these self imposed barriers. Your past, your scars, your depression, and your anxiety. What’s stopping you this time?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked directly. 

<><>><><><><><><><>

He was eight years old. He laid on the sable couch with his mother. The fabric was itchy against his bare arms. Her fingers carded through his soft locks absentmindedly as she read him a story. She sat on the couch with his head in her lap. His cousins went outside to play, so they could have one on one time. 

Tamami told him the story of Urushima Taro. He lived with his adoring mother who tended to everything he needed. Food, shelter, love, protection, and clothing. His mother only asked him to be truthful and let her know where he was going every day to ease her fears. She lost him to the sea and did not wish to lose her son to the waves. She was too caring and her boy was too trusting. Her son was a fisherman and sold what he caught to support his mother. It was the duty of children to care for their parents after all, Tamami reminded him. 

One day, the young man saw children beating a tortoise with sticks. Being the compassionate man he was, he took pity on the creature. Urushima bribed the children with money to leave the tortoise away. He released the creature to the sea. The next day, Urushima took his boat and went fishing along the sea’s shoreline. He never ventured out of sight of the beach. The tortoise returned calling out his name, “Urushima, Urushima!”

He pulled the animal onto the boat. The tortoise told him it wanted to give the young man a favor for saving its life. It took him to the Sea Queen’s Palace. Urushima did not tell his mother where he was headed as the tortoise promised they would come back within a day. He did not wish to worry her.

Below the sea, the fisherman was enchanted by the glimmering walls and splendor of the coral palace, adorned with pearls. They were greeted by red bream, cuttlefish, cod, sharks, eels, and all manner of beasts he had never seen. The tortoise left him in their care. They showed him around the palace until they entered the main hall. 

In the main hall stood the most beautiful woman in existence. She had waist length glossy hair, her eyes were the deepest blue like the depths of the sea, and she was donned in ornate garments of scarlet and green with golden thread. There was something otherworldly about her, yet familiar. He failed to find his words. 

“I am the tortoise you saved and the queen of this kingdom,” she said. “In return for saving my life, I propose that you live out your days here as my husband. You will know no sorrow or age if you agree.” 

The young man dazzled by the splendor and wonder of the Sea Queen’s Palace agreed to marry her. He asked to send word to his mother and the queen said she would send a letter. The next day he received his mother’s response stating she wished him well, but she could not attend the wedding. A feast was held the same day and the queen and Urushima were wed. 

For four days, the queen and Urushima traveled around the kingdom. He was fascinated by the new experiences and sights, yet he felt hollow. He wished for his mother to see the wonders and bring her to his new home. At the end of the third day, he told his bride he was going back to his village to retrieve his mother. It was his duty to care for her as she aged. His bride’s eyes turned red as she wept. 

“Do you wish to forsake your bride after four days?” the queen cried out. Her shoulders shook from the force. The young man embraced her. 

“That is not the case, my bride,” he soothed her. “My mother is old and I wish to ensure her safety and comfort. I will be back in a day with her.” 

His bride pleaded with him again, but it fell on deaf ears. She gave him a small box covered in a red silk ribbon and tassels as a present to symbolize their union and love. She told him not to open it on dry land and he promised not to. 

Urushima left the Palace and walked along the shoreline he was so familiar with. Though, he did not recognize any of the villagers he passed through on the way to his mother’s home. When he arrived, his mother was nowhere to be seen. Instead a burly man sat by the front door. 

“I am looking for my mother. Do you know where she could be?” the young fisherman asked. The man looked at him bewildered as Urushima Taro introduced himself. Supposedly, Urushima Taro disappeared without a trace like his father 300 years ago. Now the fisherman was confused by this before he looked around the village. He recognized nothing and no one. He had not been gone for four days, he had been gone for 400 years. Each day spent in the waters was 100 years on land. 

Urushima wept for the loss of his mother as he wandered back to the beach. This pain was greater than anything he ever experienced. She adored him and cared for him. He forsook her affection and he failed her. He did not tell her where he was going only four days ago. He broke his promise. 

She must have been beside herself when she realized her son met the same fate as her husband. The pain and suffering she must have endured all alone. But she sent him a message the second day he was there, how was that possible? Had she lived just long enough to receive his message? Or had someone else written her reply? He would have to ask his bride. 

Upon the shoreline, Urushima realized he did not know the way back to his bride’s kingdom. He pulled out the present she had given him. Surely, the lacquer box symbolizing their love would lead him back to his wife. 

Foolishly, he untied the silk ribbon and opened the box on dry land. There was nothing in it. Seconds drifted and the man felt himself aging. His hair grew out and changed from black to white. Soon he crumpled to the sand and turned to ash along the shore. His last memory was his mother weeping on the same shore for her lost boy and husband. 

“My sweet baby, what do you believe the story is trying to tell us?” Tamami asked, setting the book aside. Her dark eyes peered down at him inquisitively. A wide smile plastered on her face, but it didn’t shine through her eyes. It was a test. Obanai tried to control his fidgeting hand and slid it under his back. His mother hated seeing his nervous tick. 

“To keep your promises,” the boy said. She hummed, considering his answer. He could sense her disappointment and his whole body tensed. Her moods shifted quickly. His breath froze, anticipating her to strike him or pull at his hair. 

“Not quite. Never disobey your mother because it will only lead you to a life full of sorrow. Now tell me you love me,” Tamami kissed his brow. 

“I love you, Mama,” Obanai said on command with a shallow smile. Like the lacquer box in the story, this love was hollow, but his mother didn’t care. The motive was always to make her feel better, not him. She never returned the words despite her demand to hear them. 

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” She asked, her hand stilled in his hair. “I just want you to be my happy, perfect baby.”

He swallowed and nodded. There was no other acceptable answer. At eight years old, he was coming to the conclusion it was easier to tell her what he thought she wanted to hear. Sometimes it lessened the punishment. Her fingers twirled his hair before wrapping it around her hand. What did he do wrong? 

“Izumi said you asked where your father lived and if he would visit. I’ve told you before not to ask about him,” Tamami warned. He didn’t ask after his father though. Obanai knew better by now. His cousin lied. “Why do you need him? Do you intend to leave me too?” She pulled his head up by his hair, so their eyes were level. Instinctively, he attempted to pull himself back, but his mother kept him in place. “Don’t I tend to your every need and want?” 

“Yes, Mama,” Obanai said, but his voice cracked. Her eyes flared as her anger spiked. She slapped his face with an open palm until he could answer the question without his voice breaking. He had to be better-No, perfect. Then it would stop.

<><><><><><><><><><>

When he was older Obanai read the true tale of Urushima Taro. His mother altered the story to her needs and reinforced Obanai’s need to obey her. It was another demonstration of her deceit and it repulsed him. 

Of course, the residual fear stemmed from his mother. He sighed. It always came back to her and that dreadful emotion. At the corners of his mind, he felt someone mocking him. Reminders of his inadequacies, downfalls, and shortcomings. The voices in his head were all his own. They were wrong. He knew they were wrong and he still hesitated. What the hell was good enough? 

“Tamami would force me to tell her I loved her. It was another expectation she had of her happy, sweet baby, ” his mouth tasted sugar as he repeated her words and grimaced. “It’s daunting. I’m afraid if I tell Mitsuri she won’t return my feelings or she’ll feel forced to tell me what she thinks I want to hear… Like my mother did, but in reverse if that makes sense.” 

“Partially, but have you considered Mitsuri might love you?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked. Obanai cocked his head towards the therapist and opened his mouth in order to deny it. “Or do you still see yourself as unlovable? Or is the possibility of her loving you back just as daunting?” 

Obanai faltered for a response. Tengen alluded that Mitsuri loved him. He denied it then. Was it possible? He swallowed, denying it now. 

“She hasn’t said anything about love. She cares for me, but she has not used the words love, so no, I don’t think she does. Not yet,” Obanai said, glancing at the clock. The session was almost over. “Do I have any homework?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Think about what we discussed in these last few minutes. If you can’t tell Mitsuri how you feel, write her a love letter or practice saying what you want to tell her privately. In your car, living room, or kitchen. You don’t have to give her the letter or even tell her, but start to visualize it,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said. He took a white card off his side table. “Visualize her telling you she loves you and how you would respond. If you have something to rely on, telling her will be easier,” he added. 

“I will be out of town for the next three weeks visiting my wife’s family. Our next session won’t be until August. If you need assistance before then, this is my personal number,” the therapist handed him the card. Obanai peered down at the phone number and placed it in his wallet. 

“Also, I wanted to suggest changing our biweekly sessions to monthly sessions,” he said. “With how well you’ve been doing since visiting your family’s property, I can only offer so much guidance. You know what you have to do to manage your anxiety and depression and you’ve been better at implementing them. Think of my vacation as a trial run,” he continued. Obanai pursed his lips and nodded. 

It was a documentable change if Obanai was able to cope for a month without using Dr. Ubuyashiki as a crutch. The breathing and grounding techniques were becoming common practice. Obanai no longer had the childhood nightmares, but some of the feelings lingered like lost souls. He knew how to redirect his thoughts, though it would take a while to restructure them. Unfortunately, time and consistency were the only answers. 

Mitsuri sat up in bed with Sushi walking around her. The cat swept his tail under her nose before turning to look expectantly at her with his blue-green eyes. She ran a hand down his red striped back as he arched it. 

“You’re so clingy, Sush,” she said absentmindedly. Her mind was elsewhere questioning the metaphysical world, fate, and the red string. She could not shake the feeling the dreams were more than a collective of random occurrences during the day time.  

Was it fate that they met? From day one Mitsuri felt a connection with him. Why did she sense they knew each other for years instead of months? She bit her lip. His words from last week haunted her. How could he be repeating a promise from her dream? It was not possible. They never discussed these dreams. 

She still felt the distinct pull of the red string around her wrist tying her to Obanai. He drew her in from the beginning. What was it that stood out?

Mitsuri stood at the top of the stairs peering through the window. Kanae swore white, purple, and green balloons would be out front. There was only purple and white attached to the mailbox. She shuffled her feet in her chunky heels. Why hadn’t she asked to come over before the engagement party? 

There was a group of older men and women talking in the living room. From her viewpoint, she could not see any of her sorority sisters or pictures with Kanae or Sanemi. What if someone saw her looking like a weirdo or a stalker? She shuffled her feet uncomfortably. There was the sound of someone clearing their voice behind her. 

Mitsuri turned to see a dark haired man in a grey button up shirt and slacks. He held a bottle of tequila in one hand and the other in his pocket. It was his face that struck her, captivating her with his slanted eyes. Liquid gold on the right and an ocean on the left. The bottom half of his face was covered in a black mask. She brought her hands up to her chest and fidgeted with them. 

“Hi, are you here for the engagement party for Kanae and Sanemi? I don’t see anyone I know inside. I thought some of my old sorority sisters would be here. I don’t see any of them, just older people. I think this is the right house. Kanae said there would be white, purple, and green balloons tied to the mailbox, but there were only white and purple ones,” she laughed, smiling through her nervousness. “Sorry, I know that sounds really stupid. They probably just forgot the green balloons or it looked bad.” She looked down at her feet. 

This guy probably thought she was an idiot with her nonsensical speech. Why did she always do this? She looked up again when he didn’t respond. 

“This must be the wrong place. I’m sorry for bothering you,” she bowed her head to him and headed for the steps. Her face warmed knowing she looked like an idiot in front of him. 

“No, this is the right place. This is Sanemi’s house,” the man finally spoke. His voice was soothing like water running over rocks. His eyes met hers. They were gentle, yet piercing. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in what she assumed was a smile. There was a tug on her wrist and heart. Her lips pulled back into a smile before she joked about being fashionably late to the party. He stepped inside the house. Her heart sank after losing him in the crowd. She at least wanted to get his name and maybe his number. 

Later on, she saw him again walking down the stairs with Sanemi. Kanae dragged her towards the two men and introduced Mitsuri to Obanai. She had been mesmerized ever since.  

Mitsuri groaned, unsure of what to do. What were the dreams? She did not want to bring it up until she had some idea of what they could be. Google had a variety of so-called answers. 

According to the initial search, dreams were unconscious desires, feelings, and wishes or ways of processing information or resolving emotions. Others said they were alternative universes or past lives. There were too many possibilities. She did not want to start the conversation without a greater understanding of what theirs meant. The only thing she was sure of was they weren’t simply dreams. 

Each dream felt inexplicably familiar. Mitsuri distinctly remembered the sense of déjà vu. Something was still missing. There was another promise they made. The last dream only gave her glimpses. She stretched out her hand trying to physically grasp the last promise. A mixture of apprehension and wonder filled her as she contemplated what it could be. 

Sighing, she rolled out of bed. Sushi grumbled, discontent with her decision to leave the bed. Today she had to work on the reception’s seating chart. Gyomei agreed to help her and act as a sounding board. 

Obanai tapped his pen on the notebook. He sat on the couch with his notebook resting against his thighs. He pushed himself back against the cushion. Peering through the notebook, he reread his musings about Mitsuri. 

She is like the sun, 

You’re a frozen wasteland, yet 

Her smile melts you.

Born to filth and wrath,

All I wanted was freedom

Instead I found you.

When I look at you,

I see our future in your eyes,

Evergreen and beloved.

A summer’s embrace

Calm, cascading waves roll in

On the morning tide.

Every new sunrise 

I awake with summer’s rays

Thanks to your radiance.

You are the light in the darkness I surrounded myself in. 

Brilliant, shining as ever.

Shadows shifting for the sun’s rays 

Until there was only a dark sunflower  

where the shadows once rested 

Basking in your embrace.

What would she want to hear? He shook his head recognizing the old behavior. It was a way to avoid being hurt to try to appease his mother’s turbulent whims. Instead, what did he want to tell her? It was only three words he had to utter. He used to only be able to say ten words at a time. He could manage three. This was another step forward towards more. Pen to paper he wrote them.

I love you. 

Immediately, he crossed them out. They didn’t even begin to cover how he felt. He started a few sentences and crossed them trying to decipher what he wanted to tell her and how. Haikus were much easier to write than prose. Five-seven-five was the ideal formula for a monochrome haiku whereas prose was watercolors. 

You deserve the moon. 

First love

Mitsuri, I can’t even begin to 

If you

If I 

Pursing his lips, he shut his eyes. It all came back to fear. A fear to solidify what he had never done. It was unmarked territory. Murky as he waded through the emotions. He wanted to walk in the daylight with her. 

Maybe Dr. Ubuyashiki is right and I still think I’m unlovable. He rubbed his eyes. At the corners of his mind, he felt the tendrils of anxiety threatening to pull him down. Be kind to yourself. It’s not true. If Mitsuri thought this way, you’d be frustrated and ask her to stop. She deserves everything and the moon. 

An image appeared in his mind. It was from one of his blasted dreams. He sat in front of a desk writing his last letter to Mitsuri. 

In our next life, I hope I am able to love you and if I am deserving you will love me back. He exhaled. What if this was his next life? Or worse, what if this was the only life he had? Being good enough would not matter if it was. 

Obanai opened his eyes and let his stream of consciousness pour out onto the page. Every fear, uncertainty, and insecurity reflected as ink bled. He didn’t have to share this particular confession, but it gave voice to his overwhelming thoughts. He reread what he wrote and made a few minor edits before copying it to a different page. 

“I love you,” he whispered and shut the notebook. Silence followed except for the hum of the air conditioner. It left him longing for a response. 

Mitsuri’s brow furrowed at the poster board laying on Gyomei’s kitchen table. There were approximately 125 guests between the Kocho and Shinazugawa families in addition to their friends and coworkers. Most of the tables fit ten people to a table, so they had 15 tables total including the wedding party. Kanae and Sanemi would be at the center of the table to receive guests. The groomsmen would be next to Sanemi while the bridesmaids sat next to Kanae. Mitsuri debated whether or not to place Obanai next to her, but then the table would seem weighted on Kanae’s side. Genya was not bringing a date and Shinobu said her boyfriend would be fine sitting with strangers. His name was still somewhere in the two piles she set on the table. 

She tapped the labels on the table as she wondered where to put Kanae’s extended family. There had been bad blood between several of the aunts, uncles, and cousins. Uncle Koji stole Aunt Aya’s boyfriend 30 years ago, who he later married. There was still tension between them while their children were best friends. 

“Do you think we could split up the children based on their friends or would that be too obvious?” Mitsuri questioned Gyomei, glancing over at the larger man. 

“Too obvious. Age groups would also be too obvious,” Gyomei commented. Tai, the grey cat yawned in his arms as he scratched under his ears. Mitsuri tapped her temple and pushed the aunts and uncles to the side for the time being. Kanae asked her to prepare the initial seating chart before they got together this weekend to finalize it. Given the complicated interpersonal relationships it took more time then Mitsuri originally thought. Ten of the tables were easy to split between work colleagues and old friends. Once she was done she would meet up with Kanae to confirm the chart. 

“Take a break,” Gyomei suggested. “I made a chocolate cheesecake with strawberries if you want a piece.” Mitsuri immediately perked up at the mention of food and kicked her feet under the table.

“You treat me so well, Gyomei. Obanai might get jealous if he knew you baked for me,” she teased with a little squeal. Gyomei laughed and shook his head as he let go of his cat and stood up. 

“I love you, Mitsuri, but you’re not my type,” Gyomei said. He went into the kitchen and pulled the cheesecake out of the refrigerator. He laid out everything carefully to accommodate his visual impairment. She set aside the seating chart and the labels before she followed. Gyomei placed the cheesecake tin on his brown speckled counter and grabbed plates out of the tall cabinet. Her mouth watered as she smelled the cocoa. 

“Love you too. What is your type then?” She questioned, resting her elbows on the countertop as he cut two pieces of cheesecake. He slid one of the plates towards her and handed her a fork and napkin. 

“Someone who is easy to get along with, able to self-reflect, dependable and emotionally mature,” Gyomei said as he pierced the cake with his fork. “My last ex had a difficult time recognizing when he was at fault. He would make promises and never keep them.” 

“He sounds like my ex,” Mitsuri’s nose scrunched up and took a bite of the cake. The cheesecake was bitter from the dark chocolate, but the slices of strawberry sweetened it. “Is there anything else? Or anything you don’t want?” 

“I need someone loyal and who shares the same values and life goals,” the tall man added. Mitsuri nodded. She had yet to meet a man who she would consider introducing to Gyomei. 

“I wish I knew someone for you,” Mitsuri said. Gyomei had always been supportive and willing to offer advice, she wanted to offer him the same. Gyomei turned his head side to side. 

“I appreciate you worrying about me, but I’d rather be single than be in an unhappy relationship,” Gyomei explained. “I’ve been in enough of those,” he smiled weakly. She reached across the counter to take his hand. 

“I have too,” she grasped his hand, or at least attempted to, his hand dwarfed hers. They finished their cheesecake while they discussed how quickly the summer passed and next month they would return to school. Gyomei put their plates in the sink to soak. 

“I’ll need to adjust my sleep schedule,” Mitsuri stretched her arms over head and rolled her shoulders. “I’ve been staying up past midnight lately. 

“Oh, has someone been keeping you up?” Gyomei teased. Mitsuri couldn’t help but flush before slapping Gyomei’s arm. 

She preferred to keep her and Obanai’s sex life private. Makio and Suma kept asking her questions while Hinastusu scolded them for making Mitsuri uncomfortable. Mitsuri shared her intimate experiences in the past, but with Obanai it was different. She felt more vulnerable with him than her other partners. His smug smiles, playful eyes, and coy words made her melt. Though he still limited how much she could touch him during sex. 

“Not you too,” Mitsuri murmured, hiding her face. Her sisters teased her about Obanai as well. “The only thing keeping me up lately are my dreams.”

“Your dreams are keeping you up?” Gyomei cocked his head to the side in question. How could she explain the dreams, but not really dreams? They could be her subconscious desires mixed with random thoughts during the day. Or how they could show her glimpses into another universe or past life. 

“In a roundabout way, yes. Umm, I’ve been having these dreams,” she paused. “Please don’t think I’m weird, but I think they’re more than dreams,” she glanced down to stare at the crumbs she left on the counter. 

“That’s not weird,” he said. Gyomei crossed his arms in front of his chest. “In Buddhism, there’s several ideas about what dreams are. One suggests there is no difference between dreams and the waking world. They are a projection of our minds and influence each other,” Gyomei explained. “Others say dreams are messages from gods, bodhisattva, or harbingers of the future, so dreams can be more the dreams. What do you think they are?” 

“I’m not sure,” Mitsuri answered honestly and held her thumb to her mouth in thought. The concept of dreams and the real world being the same intrigued her, but it did not seem right. At least, not for her dreams. 

“What are your dreams about?” Gyomei leaned his hip against the counter. How could she even begin to describe them? In the dreams, she had innate knowledge of the world and the circumstances. 

“I fight monsters, though I call them demons. I use a sword, but it looks like a whip or a ribbon.. It’s super pretty and pink. I have to rely on my flexibility and dancing skills to perform certain attacks to kill the demons. They’re called breathing styles because-” Mitsuri rambled on about the dream realm’s principles and the demon slayer corps. Gyomei bowed his head and nodded at the appropriate times. She nearly lost her breath after explaining everything. 

“In this world, our friends are there too. Obanai, Kyojuro, Shinobu, Sanemi, and others. Most of the dreams revolve around Obanai and I,” she continued. “At first I thought the dreams were just subconscious desires. I can’t shake the feeling they’re more. Anytime I’ve woken up from a dream, I had déjà vu. Have you ever felt something like that?” 

“I’ve had déjà vu, but not often,” her friend said. “Sometimes I have the feeling I met someone before, but it’s fleeting. If you believe in reincarnation, then it’s possible everyone could have known each other on some level.”

Reincarnation was one of the ideas that hovered around her research. Mitsuri toyed with the napkin in between her pointer finger and thumb. She was open to the idea, but it seemed far fetched given the fantasy elements. Demons never existed, so it could not possibly be a past life. There would be accounts of demons if they were as prevalent as they were in her dreams. 

Mitsuri recalled the vivid dreams she had the past few months. When did they start? It must have been September or October. The dreams exposed her innermost thoughts and crafted a samurai fantasy world full of demons. The demons varied from beasts with hundred eyes, claws, and teeth to people with extraordinary beauty. They didn’t exist. Her stomach churned. 

They didn’t, did they? Her body tensed recalling the battle with the Demon King. His hair was white with gruesome teeth seen over his whole body and appendages flying in everything direction. She had personified Muzan as the Demon King. The hair on her forearms rose. 

“Is there anyone specifically?” She asked. She hoped it wasn’t Muzan. She shivered at the thought. 

“There’s a college student that volunteers at the community center,” Gyomei said. “When we first spoke it seemed like we already had the same conversation and it was trivial. He was showing the kids how to make paper airplanes.”

Obanai studied Mitsuri as she focused on the seating chart for Kanae and Sanemi. Her tongue was sticking out in concentration as she debated on where to put Sanemi’s and Kanae’s extended family. She sat on the floor, bent over the metal and glass coffee table in his living room. He sat on the couch with her situated between his legs. His hands played with her hair absentmindedly. He adored watching her in her element. As sweet and sometimes absurd as she could, she always put her friends’ first and devoted herself to any project they asked of her. It was part of the reason why people called her ditzy. He tried to scan the board, but the contrast between the board and labels irritated his eyes. 

“What if you moved Toji, his husband, and daughter to Kanao’s table? She’s an easygoing person based on what Kanae’s said,” Obanai questioned and dragged the three labels over to the left side of the board beside the third Kocho sister. Mitsuri tilted her head one way and then the other before nodding. She patted his knee. 

“I knew I liked you for some reason,” she beamed cheerfully, sparing him a glance. Her green eyes gleamed despite the dim light. 

“For some reason?” He asked, squinting at her. He knew she liked his reserved nature, his laugh, and his humor, but this did not fall under any of that. 

“You pay attention to the small details,” Mitsuri said as she rearranged the table Toji’s family had originally been at. “Just now remembering Kanao is easygoing when Kanae mentioned it once. Many people would forget. Plus you remembered my favorite book months after I told you. It’s really considerate,” she explained as a faint blush spread over her cheeks. 

Obanai’s mouth felt dry. He knew he was a goner from day one. Tengen and Dr. Ubuyashiki’s words came to mind as he tried to form a response. Was it possible she loved him? There was only one way to know. 

He pursed his lips. He had not been able to define what good enough was in the past week. Being good enough was just another way to keep Mitsuri at bay. It was an expectation he would keep changing. Good enough didn’t exist. 

Obanai wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her body was warm compared to his. The scent of her sakura-vanilla perfume dusted her neck as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Mitsuri,” he started. His throat constricted. He was enough. He could say it. Over the past week, he whispered the words when he was alone. He imagined her response as Dr. Ubuyashiki suggested. She would tell him she loved him back. They were not long declarations of love. It was an acceptance between the two of them. He felt the pull of the red string as he pulled her back into his chest. 

“Oba?” She craned her neck to look at him. Gods, you’re striking. Mitsuri watched him with flushed cheeks, hiding her freckles.  

Even if she didn’t feel the same, he wanted to let her know. There was a glimmer of hope as he noticed the way her brows softened and her dilated eyes closed a fraction. His whole body felt as if he was about to jump off a ledge as the adrenaline surged through his arteries and veins. He rubbed his thumb over her exposed collarbone and felt her let out a contented sigh as she relaxed into his arms. 

“You know I have a hard time expressing myself,” he inhaled through his nose and shut his eyes briefly. He could do this. She would not reject him. She never had. In the past, he had been the one to stall their relationship because of his fear. This time he would have the courage to move them forward. 

“I’m not sure how to say this, but-” Obanai’s phone went off, buzzing and beeping loudly. Mitsuri’s head turned towards the lit phone screen and grabbed it. He removed his arms from her and straightened up. The moment was lost.

“It’s Nichirin,” Mitsuri said as she passed it to him. Obanai hit the accept call button and heard Chef Agatsuma panicking on the other end. He pinched the bridge of his nose in preparation for what could only be bad news. 

“Sorry, but Chef Sabito and Ito called in sick. Is there any way you can come in? I don’t know if I can handle the crowd coming in,” Zenistu’s voice was jittery. No doubt he was pacing while his eyes darted around the kitchen frantically. Obanai ran a hand down his face before sighing. He could not leave Zenistu stranded. 

“I’ll be there in the next hour,” he answered and hung up. “The sous chef and a line cook are sick, so I have to go in,” the chef explained with a sigh. It was his first night off in the past week. He planned to cook hōtō for her since she never had it before. It would have to wait until tomorrow. He lifted one of his legs over Mitsuri before standing up. 

“What were you about to say?” Mitsuri asked, meeting his gaze. He bit the inside of his cheek. I’ll tell her tonight when I get home, he swore. His heart clenched as he realized what he considered home. Home was Mitsuri standing in the kitchen dancing while she baked some chaotic confection. He was so far gone. 

“It’s a surprise,” Obanai answered with a teasing smile and poked her forehead as she looked up at him. He had already waited this long, what was another few hours? Her small playful smile was like a flash of sunlight in his living room. For a brief moment, he imagined her sitting on an engawa with his black and white haori over her shoulders. It vanished with a single blink. He must have not slept well yesterday and his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

“Are you gonna give me a hint?” Mitsuri asked. He could not think of a hint without exposing his true intent. What could he say? Heart emoji? 

“Not this time,” Obanai said. He glanced over at the window where Kaburamaru rested on the window sill, basking in the sunlight. “I’ll tell you when I get home,” he added before walking to his bedroom to change into his work clothes. 

I will tell you tonight. He promised as he pulled his hair back into a ponytail with a dark blue hair tie courtesy of Mitsuri. 

“Crap, crap, crap,” Mitsuri said again as she used a kitchen towel to wipe off the guest’s labels for the chart. Several of them were ruined after she spilled a cup of water over them. She dried it the best she could, but the ink was already bleeding into the paper making the names nearly illegible. The only saving grace was knowing they were the last eighteen people left to arrange. 

Mitsuri put a hand on her knee and stood up. She wandered into the kitchen and started looking through the drawers for any paper she could find. His kitchen was meticulously organized. Even his junk drawer was lined up instead of haphazardly thrown together. By comparison, her kitchen was a mess. 

Mitsuri peeked through three drawers before she found a notebook and a few pens. As she walked back to the living room, she flipped through it before finding the first blank page. Sitting down in front of the coffee table, she jotted the guests’ names before the originals became illegible. 

Another disaster to be diverted. Then she looked down at the notebook. Hopefully, she didn’t ruin whatever notes Obanai wrote on the other side of the page. If they were then she would apologize. It was an honest mistake. Her jaw stiffened at the thought before her eyes darted to the top and started to read. 

On an August day,

I met the sun, bright and warm,

That day I fell for you. 

When I first saw you

I couldn’t speak,

Taken by your beauty

When I first heard you

My mind went blank

Stolen by your voice

When I first held you,

I felt sick

Believing we could never be

I never thought someone like you would be okay

With someone like me.

When I first kissed you,

I never wanted to stop. 

Now, when I tell you I love you

I hope you feel the same. 

“I love you too,” she whispered. Her heart fought between melting and beating out of her chest. Mitsuri stared at the words written in Obanai’s flowing script. Her finger traced over the last two lines. 

Her love for him developed slowly. The easy ebb and flow let her sink into his embrace. His raspy laugh, his wit, his willingness to accept her. Mitsuri held the notebook over her heart before bringing the top edge to her lips. This was confirmation. 

Her eyes traveled to the window sill where the white snake was curled up. His clever scarlet eyes watched her as if asking what she meant to do. The snake flicked out his tongue twice in silent encouragement. According to Obanai, two flicks were ‘Yes’ and one flick was ‘No’. 

There was no more need to hesitate. She took the notebook before dashing to the front door, nearly tripping over a phone charger. She stuffed the notebook in her messenger bag. Instincts took over as she pulled out her keys. She had to respond. The red string tightened over her wrist and drew her towards him. 

“Kabi, you’re in charge!” Mitsuri called out to the serpent absorbing the last of the summer heat. 

All uncertainty was gone. She walked out the front door, locking it. The buzzing in her mind grew ever louder. It even silenced her regular pop punk playlist as she started her Beetle. 

Ever since they met Obanai showed his affection in subtle ways. Despite his anxiety he made time to see and speak with her. He made her favorite foods, complemented her, and encouraged her to be herself. His gentle gaze watching her with such affection. Why had it taken her so long to recognize he was telling her he loved her? Not in words, but through actions. 

Mitsuri drove to Nichirin. She had to answer him. Mitsuri already waited months believing it was too soon to admit what he meant to her, yet she couldn’t shake the emotions he stirred. The desire to protect him, to care for him, and to hold him close and never let go. Reading his confession hardened her resolve. 

What would she say? Typically, she blurted out how she felt or alluded to how she felt. Mitsuri tapped her hand on the steering wheel at a red light and looked at the clock. Would he be angry that she read it? Was she being too rash? Maybe she should wait until he gets home. Maybe she should wait for him to tell her. No, she did not want to wait any longer. 

In the dreams, the question always loomed over her like a stormcloud. Did he love her in the dreams? If her life and the dreams were both real, then yes, he loved her. 

She parked her car at the first spot she could find. Mitsuri already felt the sweat forming on her skin as she opened her car door. Some of it was from nerves and the other was the heat. The messenger bag hit the back of her thighs as she ran. She dashed to the restaurant and pushed through the front door unceremoniously. Aoi stood at the front desk talking to another employee. The black haired woman grinned. 

“Hey Mitsuri,” Aoi greeted her. Usually, Mitsuri would make small talk with the hostess, but she had one mission. “Do you want a seat by your window?” 

“No, actually, I just need to see Obanai. Where is he?” Mitsuri asked as she reached her hand up to wipe away some of the sweat from her face. Her only saving grace was her olive green tank top and shorts to help cool her down. Aoi pointed towards the kitchen’s double doors. 

“I’ll grab him. If you want to wait here,“ Aoi said. Mitsuri shook her head. Without thinking or worrying about the consequences, Mitsuri walked into the restaurant’s kitchen. 

Her eyes darted around the frenzy of people. Each one assigned to a different station. She noticed a blond man at the front wiping down the serving plates and inspecting the presentation of the food. His brown eyes flickered up as the doors opened. 

“You’re Chef Iguro’s girlfriend!” The man glided towards her. He took her hand and patted it. “I’m Zenitsu Agatsuma. I’ve been dying to meet you,” he introduced himself. Several of the people looked in her direction before returning to their work. They were short two chefs tonight. “I’ve seen you, but you’re even more gorgeous up close. Look at your beauty marks and your eyes are stunning,” he leaned in closer, inspecting her face. 

Mitsuri flushed at his attention. She didn’t mean to be rude, but she had to tell Obanai how she felt. She did not want him to be left wondering a second longer. 

“Umm, thank you, I’m Kanroji Mitsuri. Nice to meet you too,” she smiled politely as she pulled her hand back to grasp the bag’s strap. Glancing over the kitchen again, she failed to locate her partner. “Where’s Obanai?” She asked. 

“In the fridge,” Zenitsu let go of her hand to point out the metal door towards the back. 

“Thanks,” Mitsuri held up her hands in appreciation before she walked past him and set her hand on the fridge’s door lever. This was it. She took in a deep breath before pulling it open and sliding inside. His back was turned to her. He was dressed in his usual black work attire along with a striped apron wrapped around his thin waist. He held a clipboard and wrote a few notes. She pursed her lips briefly, preparing herself mentally. 

“Take this bin out when you leave,” Obanai directed, gesturing to a clear container on his right side before turning his head. His eyes widened upon seeing the pink haired woman step inside. 

“Mitsuri,” he began. “What are you doing here? Are you alright?” He turned to face her completely. His two toned gaze softened with concern. They traveled up and down her body looking for an injury. 

Before she could overthink the situation, she opened her bag and pulled out the notebook. She flipped to the page with his poem. Her hand quivered as she pointed at the words. She looked at his face. His eyebrows raised and his jaw tensed under the paper mask. He stood up straight and his empty hand shook. His pupils dilated as he recognized what she held and froze. His heart, his words, and his confession laid in her hands. Everything left on the page. 

“You read it?” his voice trembled. Mitsuri nodded before clearing her throat. It was time to jump. This time she was assured she would not hit the dirt, he would catch her.  

“I love you too,” Mitsuri confessed with a smile. Plain and simple. What else was there to say? Her heart raced and her stomach fluttered from the amount of butterflies threatening to escape. Obanai dropped the clipboard and just stared at her. The buzzing in her head echoed as she waited for his response. Her body temperature rose despite the refrigerator’s cool temperature. 

“I love you too,” Mitsuri said in her cheery voice. Her words knocked the air out of his lungs. He dropped his clipboard and pen, hitting the metal floor with a thwack. The only other noise was the sound of the fan whirring above. 

For months, Obanai knew he loved her. He nearly told her earlier this evening, but his phone went off. He promised to tell her tonight, but she said it first. There were other times he could have told her. The morning after he realized he loved her, after they slept together, their first dance, after he told her his past, and the night she baked manju cookies. He nearly told her on her birthday, but instead he told her the birthday haiku. 

Since they met he has adored her. He had been terrified she would run away countless times. Now, she held his love confession. Mitsuri read it and ran to him. He saw the sweat on her face. She literally ran to him. 

He mouthed three words, but failed to project his voice behind the paper mask. She stood before him holding his notebook, her hand quivering. The poem was meant for his eyes only, yet here she was standing in front of him. She just told him she loved him. Obanai stood left speechless. Like a fool. His throat tightened as he reached up to pull his mask off. Seconds ticked by and her smile began to falter. He gulped, wishing to respond to her. To calm her insecurities and let her know he felt the same even if she read it. 

It was only three words. Months ago he told her while she was sleeping beside him, his lips pressed to the tips of her green hair. There had been no risk in their suspended twilight. Now, Mitsuri stood before him, daring him to take the risk and walk into the sunlight. The lattice cage forgotten in the shadows. He’d follow her anywhere. What was it Kyojuro said? 

Live with your head held up high. Set your heart ablaze. 

“Since I met you- No. That’s wrong. When I saw you standing in front of Sanemi’s house, I was stunned,” he watched as her lips curled up. Stepping forward with a shaky hand, Obanai trailed his hand from her elbow to her wrist until he was able to take the notebook. He set it on the shelf to the left before taking her hand. Health violation codes be damned. As he intertwined their fingers, he took note of how her soft hand fit perfectly with his.

“It was like seeing the sun for the first time. The night I escaped was the first time I saw a sunrise. I had a sliver of hope seeing the rays peak over the horizon. It was the most incredible thing. The light spread as the sun rose, radiating warmth and clarity, shining unbothered by the night before.” Obanai was rambling, but he had no other way to express everything he ever felt or thought about her. He didn’t have her elegance for rambling. Her eyes grew misty as he continued speaking. 

“You’re the sun. I adore the way you’re unapologetically yourself. You’re genuine and compassionate. You treat everyone with kindness, even the people you shouldn’t. I love your smile. You still leave me speechless, but I want to be the reason you smile and snort when you laugh.” He breathed deeply. Obanai reached up to caress her face. She leaned into him, her lips slightly parted. 

“Mitsuri, I love you,” he whispered. Three words and he felt the ground shift under his feet. Mitsuri stood with him though, her eyes shining affectionately as she raised her hand to his face. She shone brighter than the sun at that moment. He finally told her after months of struggling with his emotions. Her cheeks were pink and warm to the touch. “I love you,” he said again, finding comfort in the words. Why had he been so terrified?

Her green eyes drifted from his eyes to his lips and then back again. His fingers trailed under her chin and led her mouth towards his. Lips brushed tenderly and he savored her sweet taste. Any fear he had of rejection diminished to nothing when she smiled into the kiss. Her forehead pressed into his and their noses touched. The other shoe was nowhere in sight. 

“You make me so, so happy,” she whispered as she cupped his face. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners. Her fingers grazed the scars on his left cheek. “I really love you, Obanai,” she leaned in for a chaste kiss and he felt goosebumps trail down his neck and back. She returned his love. It was more than he could have asked for in several lifetimes-Hell, even one lifetime was enough.

Chapter Text

Early-Mid July

“Is this okay?” Mitsuri asked as she positioned herself on his lower back. Her thighs were bracing themselves to prevent her from putting her full body weight on him. There was no way it could be comfortable. 

“You can sit down,” Obanai said, twisting his head to look at her. He laid on his stomach on her bed. Her brow furrowed and her forehead wrinkled. Earlier she asked if she could give him a massage after he mentioned tweaking his neck at work. Initially, he said no, but after seeing her brows knit together he said they could try it. 

A massage was low stakes compared to confessing. It had only been a week since she told him she loved him in his work’s refrigerator. Now whenever he walked into the fridge he could not suppress a smile remembering Mitsuri standing in front of the door holding his collection of love poems. 

“I don’t want to crush you,” she mumbled. Sometimes she was still insecure about her weight. There was no need. Mitsuri looked like an idol of a spring goddess. He loathed seeing her doubt herself. All because of her damn ex. If he ever met the man, he would throttle him into the ground and make him beg for forgiveness at Mitsuri’s feet. Even though Obanai was trying to practice compassion, he would make an exception for Mitsuri’s ex fiance. The fact that man even held the title of fiance irked him. 

“You won’t,” he replied, focusing on her. Mitsuri made a face, but her thighs relaxed as she sat down on his lower back. “Besides, you didn’t have any issues being on top before,” Obanai smirked when her face tinted pink. 

His skin was covered in goosebumps as Mitsuri dripped beads of cold oil on his back. One hand gripped the sheets to prevent himself from jumping up. He hoped the massage would feel nice. Mitsuri’s hands ran up and down his back to spread the oil evenly. The pressure was light. He flexed his back muscles to prevent undue pain. You trust her. He reminded himself and relaxed. 

“Is this alright?” Mitsuri asked as she swept her hands over his traps in fluid motions. He turned his head to the left so he could see her clearly. She looked at him with such concern. 

“Yes,” he replied. She hummed and kneaded his shoulder blades. He never had a massage or let someone touch him like this. With the intent to bring him comfort, he could feel her fingers working out the knots. Her legs straddled him and the weight of her settled his mind. 

This was another way to get closer where he allowed her touch. The warmth of her hands and pressure soothed him. She used her strength to tease out the tension in his neck. Her motions were rhythmic and well practiced. 

“It feels good,” Obanai commented and he felt her wiggle her bottom. He nearly laughed at her giddiness. 

“Yay!” Mitsuri chimed as she used her thumbs to knead along his upper spine. 

“Who taught you?” He asked and then immediately regretted it. 

“One of my exes went to massage therapy school and needed someone to practice on, so they taught me,” Mitsuri said. Jealousy licked at his insides thinking of another touching her like this. His muscles tensed. Her motions stilled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she added quickly.

“It’s fine,” he said, but he was still rigid. “I know you had other partners. No need to apologize for it,” he finished. His jaw was stiff. Obanai tried to keep his possessive thoughts to himself. They were ugly and toxic. There was no need for his jealousy. She was his partner now, yet his right eye twitched. Sensing his irritation, Mitsuri rubbed his right shoulder. She leaned down to place a featherlight kiss on his facial scar. 

“There’s only you, Oba,” she whispered, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. “I’m all yours,” Mitsuri said, pushing his hair aside to kiss the top of his left shoulder. “Just like you’re all mine.”

Chills ran down his spine between her words and lips. Her chest rested on his upper back. Her right hand trailed from his shoulder down to his deltoid. Her fingers stopped when she felt the knotted scar tissue from his first suicide attempt. His breath hitched as she shifted to his other side. Her lips molded to the raised silver mark, engraving the impression on his heart. 

“I love you,” Mitsuri promised, her hot breath against his skin. This woman was everything he dreamt of. Her ability to find the cracks in his walls and work herself through and endear her evermore to him. There were no words for her limitless compassion. He blinked rapidly to prevent the tears from leaking. Her lips traveled down his right arm to press against every single scar littering his flesh. 

Fuck. His muscles loosened with every brush of her lips to his marred skin. 

“It’s always been you,” Mitsuri grasped his right hand and brought it to her face. Obanai turned his head to watch her through his golden eye. Her face was fuzzy, but he could not mistake the adoration behind her eyes. Before he could respond, she spoke again, “It will always be you.”

The implication pushed him over the edge. His heart hammered against his chest when she used the past, present, and future tenses. He searched for something to say, but he came up empty. Did she mean to imply she wanted a future with him? Maybe he was reading too much into her words. He rotated his body forcing Mitsuri to lift her hips off of him temporarily. She squeaked, surprised by his movement. 

He propped himself on his elbows. She lowered her bottom onto his lap and rested her hands on his chest for balance. Her brows softened and her eyes partially closed. He lifted his arm to weave his hand into her hair and pulled her close. 

“I love you,” Obanai said. Since confessing a few days ago, it was easier to tell her. Her whole face lit up at the words. All her emotions were plainly written on her face, her heart stitched on her sleeve. It was something he’d always adored. Mitsuri’s lips parted as she leaned forward. Her loose hair tickled his chest. Obanai met her with the same fervor and deepened the kiss. 

His other hand found the hemline of her tank top and his fingers slid over her back as he pulled it up. A soft sigh escaped her as they separated briefly to toss her top to the floor. Tension coiled in his stomach. His eyes followed the curve of her breasts. Her curves and wide set hips that would put the goddess of love to shame. 

“You’re so beautiful, Suri,” he whispered, stroking her cheek before he flipped them. He pushed her back into the mattress. Her pupils dilated when she looked up at him. Obanai lowered his face, pressing his lips to hers. For some reason, Mitsuri chose to love him and he would be eternally grateful. He set one hand around her neck to force her head to tilt back, so he could plant kisses along her jaw. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted,” he admitted as her breathing stalled. There was something about the way her body reacted to his words he craved. “My love,” Obanai rasped, sucking below her right ear. It was one of her weak points. Her signature scent of sakura and vanilla enthralled him. One of her hands brushed his chest, but she drew it back. 

“You can touch me,” Obanai heard himself say as he pulled back from her neck. When they were intimate she seldom touched him per his request. He was still averse to touch, but he trusted her. It was only natural to want to touch your lover. She loved him and never hurt him intentionally. 

“You sure?” Mitsuri asked. Despite the lump in his throat, he nodded. His first instinct had been to tell her no, but decided against it. Her fingers trailed over his chest experimentally, watching his face the entire time for any sign of distress. He didn’t hold his breath or panic. It was just another piece of more and dropping another barrier between them. Mitsuri’s fingers ghosted over his collarbone, up to his neck to feel his pulse. 

“You have no idea how attractive you are,” she whispered before smiling widely. This woman had him in a chokehold. Surprisingly, he believed her. The tingling sensation of her lips on his old wounds proved it. When he returned her smile, his scars barely pulled on his cheeks. 

“I’ll never compare to you,” Obanai brushed his lips against hers, savoring her sweet taste. Mitsuri rolled her hips up, rubbing against him. Obanai groaned at the contact. She stuttered as she moved her hand up to trace his upper arm. Her touch was as light as a feather and almost cautious. It was different, but not unwelcome. 

“I want to see you lose control,” he murmured and repositioned his body. Obanai caressed her side as he planted kisses on the column of her throat and worked down to her breasts. He kneaded her right breast while he sucked on the other. Her back arched before he switched his attention to her right breast. He took her nipple in his mouth and swept over it, coaxing a moan from her. 

Was it possible to make her come with just his mouth? Mitsuri hissed when he flicked her nipple with his tongue again. It was a definite possibility. He brushed soft kisses down her body, pausing to pull her brown sleep shorts and cotton underwear off and throwing them off the bed beside her top. 

“What are you doing?” Mitsuri asked shakily. She peered down as she pushed herself higher in the bed to rest her head on the pillows.  

“Trying something new,” he answered as he settled between her thighs. Obanai draped one arm over her hip bones. He did not have to hold back anymore. “Bend your knees,” he ordered and she complied. 

“That's my girl,” Obanai praised her. He kissed the soft flesh of her inner thigh and kneaded her hip before glancing up at Mitsuri’s face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hand touched her mouth as she tried to control her facial expressions without any luck. He breathed warm air on her core and her eyes widened a fraction as she realized his intent. 

“Obanai,” she said as her voice rose, “are you going…?” Her question trailed off expecting him to fill in the blank. 

“Going to what?” He teased, bringing his face closer to her core. She tried shifting her hips, but he kept her pinned to the mattress. Experimentally, he used the flat of his tongue to lick just outside of her labia majora. She inhaled sharply. 

“Do you want me to? Just ask,” Obanai met her gaze and she flushed a deep red. She hesitated, afraid to ask. When they discussed their sexual history, she said she typically would give without receiving. Obanai would give her anything she wanted, she only had to tell him. 

In the past few months he realized he enjoyed the emotional connection and intimacy related to sex. His arousal came from fulfilling Mitsuri’s desires. In truth, he craved every noise, touch, and sensation he coaxed from her. 

She looked so pretty lying on her bed, her hair loose over the white pillows. He imagined her like this months ago except he was kneeling on the floor between her legs. His pleasure was knowing he was the one to bring her over the edge. No one else could see her like this. She was his. His fingers pressed into the smooth skin of her hips. She moaned. Her thighs trembled against his head. 

“Go ahead, Mitsuri,” Obanai encouraged her before planting kisses over her right thigh.

“Can you please go down on me?” She asked, shutting her eyes. He threaded his left arm under her leg to grip her thigh. Mitsuri opened her eyes to watch him. He licked up her slit once with the flat of his tongue. As he reached the top he flicked his tongue over her clit. She moaned lightly. He took his forearm away from her hips and used his fingers to spread her open. 

“Say my name,” he instructed her. She opened her mouth, but faltered for a second as he sucked on her clit to tease her.

“Obanai!” She cried out, inflating his ego. Mitsuri calling out his name was pure bliss. Pressure built in his stomach anytime he heard her say his name. She threaded a hand through his silky ink hair, careful not to pull or push his head down. 

“That's it, my love,” Obanai whispered. Her eyelids fluttered open, meeting his heated two toned gaze. He adored seeing her expression when he used a term of endearment. Her face flushed bright pink. He’d told her countless times he loved her. In words, actions, and this intimacy. “My love,” he repeated and her breathing hitched. 

“Oba,” her hand slid down her stomach to his hand resting on her hip. “I like hearing you say it,” Mitsuri admitted as their fingers intertwined. 

“My love,” he grinned as he flicked his wrist, pushing two fingers into her. She whimpered. “Or that you’re mine?” Obanai saw her eyes dilate. He dragged the pads of his fingers along her walls and her hips bucked involuntarily. 

“Both,” Mitsuri breathed, her voice quivering. He took her word as consent to reveal how possessive he could be. She already called herself his.

“You're mine,” Obanai brushed his lips against the stretchmarks on her inner thighs. She was self conscious of them, but he adored every inch of her. He wished she could see herself the way he saw her. His temperature rose as he watched her eyebrows rise and her lips curl up. He shifted his hips into the mattress, seeking friction. 

“Your body is mine to worship,” he said as her hand squeezed their interlocked fingers. He brought his mouth back to her sensitive folds. He licked her outer labia, deliberately slowing down the two fingers he dragged in and out of her to tease another contented sigh from her lips. 

“Mine to hold,” he said, glancing up as her breath hitched. Obanai let go of her hand and pulled her hips down and gripped her left thigh to hold her firmly in place. It could only be described as primal, this need to ensure she was sated. 

“Mine to protect,” Obanai used his thumb to trace her swollen clit. Removing his fingers from her core, he watched her eyes turn hazy with desire. He loved calling her his more than anything. Though it could be a split race when Mitsuri screamed out his name in pure ecstasy. 

“Mine to devour,” he lightly bit her clit before sucking. Her thighs nearly clamped around his head if he hadn’t kept his hand on her left thigh. 

“Obanai,” Mitsuri moaned. He sucked harder, watching her chest heave and her stomach muscles clench as she tried to control her body. Each sound she made was music to his ears. 

Let go. Obanai wanted to tell her. He lapped at her core, tasting her essence. She whined as he paused briefly just to toy with her. Her body was soft and pliant under his hands. 

“Please keep going,” Mitsuri pleaded. He never failed to please her. Obanai flicked his tongue over her clit to trace the letters of his name. Her head rolled back against the pillows. He reached up towards her breast and grazed her nipple. She moaned louder and pushed her hips into him. When she was close she grew needy. Obanai allowed it. He sucked lightly on her swollen clit again.

“Mine to adore,” he murmured against her sensitive skin, “and covet.” His tongue delved into her warm channel as his nose bumped against her. 

“Ah, Obanai,” Mitsuri panted, “Oba- Obanai!” The sound of Mitsuri crying out his name repeatedly was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Her scent was musky. Her legs began to shake as he pleasured her with his tongue. Mitsuri’s body trembled as she came, her walls clenching and unclenching in rapid succession.

He could feel her legs vibrating. Obanai didn’t stop as she orgasmed, ensuring she could ride out her pleasure uninterrupted. Her eyes closed. His name rested on her lips like a blessing. Eventually, her legs stopped shaking and her toes curled from the aftershocks. 

He pulled his face back and wiped it off with the crook of his elbow. He glanced up. There was a thin layer of sweat all over her body. Her eyes were still closed, but he could see her lashes flutter. Satisfaction filled him seeing her contented face. His hands ran up her torso and he kissed up her body, taking more time on the stretch marks around her breasts, until they were face to face again. 

Suddenly, her eyes opened. She looked at him wide eyed. “Wait, what about you? I can return the favor,” she offered in a panic. He shook his head. 

“Not this time. That was for you,” Obanai said, ignoring his semi hard cock. Honestly, he didn’t care for blow jobs. Someone giving him head was never appealing. The few times he tried, he couldn’t relax and asked the person to stop. It had all been experimental anyway. 

He kissed her cheek and rolled them to lie down on their side. Obanai pulled her into him, enclosing her in his arms along with her white bed sheet. Mitsuri nuzzled her face into his shoulder while he rested his head on top of hers. 

“I feel selfish, I don't do anything for you,” Mitsuri whispered sleepily. He inhaled her scent. 

“Don’t be,” Obanai said, tracing figure eights on her back. “I don’t particularly like-” How could he phrase it without making her self conscious? “I prefer to focus solely on you,” he said. 

“If there’s anything I can ever do for you, I’d be happy to,” Mitsuri mumbled. He didn’t reply except for pressing her body closer to his, so they were chest to chest. He listened as her breathing slowed. 

He’d come so far since last August. The first time they hugged he had a panic attack as he recalled the smell of iron and pain from his past abuse. If he told his past self he would be holding Mitsuri naked in bed nearly a year later, past Obanai would have mocked him endlessly or told him to go kill himself for telling an atrocious lie. Who in their right mind would have wanted him? Mitsuri proved him wrong. 

Obanai craved this normalcy and even dared to believe this was part of his dream. There was no more pain, guilt, or torment as he held her in his arms. Everything seemed to be falling into place as if it was fate. He kissed the top of her head. What had he done to deserve her? He sent a silent prayer to whatever gods made it possible. His thoughts turned back to what she implied earlier. 

It will always be you. Mitsuri whispered against his self harm scars. Each one he inflicted to dampen the negative emotions that arose from his upbringing. Yet, she embraced them, breaking past his insecurity surrounding them. 

It was too good to be true. He knew he wanted a future with her. Though it was still unclear what the future entailed. He told Dr. Ubuyashiki, but Mitsuri was the only one he should be talking to about this. 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. He thought to ground himself. Despite the impending anxiety, he decided to ask.

“What you said earlier,” Obanai whispered against her hair, “did you mean it?” There was a quiver to his voice he could not hide. He inhaled deeply to prepare himself for the worst. Maybe this would be the other shoe dropping. He could not think that way. It reminded him of his dream self, who wallowed in his self loathing and self deprecation. She’s not the type of person to misuse words. When she spoke, she meant it. 

What did a future with her look like? He wasn’t sure of the answer. He only knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her or at least however long she would have him. Intrusive thoughts threatened to surface before he squashed them down. He could not read her mind. If he wanted to know he had to ask, not assume. 

Her response was a subdued snore. Perhaps he should take this as a sign to figure out what a future with her meant before bringing it up. There was the obvious answer, but Obanai was not ready to tackle it. For now, they were happy and in love. What more could he ask for? The future, whatever it held, could wait. He carded his fingers through her long hair before he drifted to sleep. 

Obanai left early that morning to see Kyojuro to finalize some of the last details for the bachelor party. In her stupor, she barely registered what time and his whispered goodbyes. Since they admitted to their feelings, everything had been heightened. 

Last night when he called her my love and mine , Mitsuri could not believe how much she craved him to call her his. The intense look in his eyes pinned her to the bed made her body melt into nothing. He only had eyes for her as he promised to worship her and her body like the goddess he claimed her to be. His possessiveness intoxicated her. 

It’s always been you. Mitsuri remembered the words and shivered. It’s always been you. She swallowed, pondering why she said it exactly. It was the opposite of feeling the words on the tip of her tongue. It was the memories or dreams associated with the phrase, leaving whispers at the edges of her mind, but not willing to be seen yet. 

With the tug from the red string, she knew there was truth behind her words. If the dreams were linked to a parallel world or past life then it had always been Obanai. He was the one she sought. The more she thought the more she believed they were connected in another life.

Her heart thudded. She knew the foundations of Buddhism, but it was Gyomei who mentioned the possibility of reincarnation. He was one of the wisest people and she respected his opinion. However, her skepticism stemmed from the lack of demons in this world. Though, there was no physical evidence to prove reincarnation either. It could go either way. 

The only proof she had that the dreams were something more was Obanai’s promise to protect and make her happy. Even that was slim evidence, but they echoed in her mind. Should she tell him about her suspicions?

If her suspicions were true, then her and Obanai were inevitable. She loved him in another life and with any luck he loved her. Except none of her dreams included a love confession or any signs of a romantic relationship. She pined for him and denied telling him. Mitsuri nearly made the same mistake. Did dream Mitsuri ever confess or did they part ways beforehand? What happened to them? How did their love story begin? Or worse, how did it end? 

She played with the green tips of her hair. Was there some way to activate the dreams? Each time there had been a dream it surrounded something Obanai said or did. Or when she realized she wanted and loved him. She placed her pointer fingers against her temples, racking her brain for an answer. Think, Mitsuri, think! She shut her eyes. Without knowing the past, how could she trigger them? There had to be a way. 

After the STEM fair and her less than pleasant confrontation with Muzan, he showed up in her dream. He was a demon. At the time she thought she was villainizing him, but maybe that’s just who he was. The Demon King in another life and an entitled man in this one. Mitsuri tapped her toes on the wood floor. She did not want to entertain the idea of contacting him. She grimaced and opened her eyes. 

In front of her was her sketchbook. Her pencils laid beside it. Mitsuri picked one up and opened her sketchbook to an empty page. She started to make faint lines for a human figure. Maybe if she drew them it would trigger something? 

An hour later, she finished one drawing and started sketching two others. One sketch  was Obanai sitting on an engawa. Bandages covered his mouth and cheeks. His legs dangled over the edge in his blue tinted demon slayer uniform and black and white haori. A white snake wrapped around his shoulders. It was from the dream where he gave her the moon. She licked her lips remembering the sweet taste of tsukimi dango and the warmth of his haori wrapped around her shoulders. 

The second sketch was an outline of herself in a black pleated skirt, thigh high socks, and a button up shirt with her breasts heavily exposed. She was holding her flexible sword, poised to strike a demon with a determined smile. 

The finished drawing was Obanai hugging her on a bench. He was comforting her after she lost a group of demon slayers on a mission. Kaburamaru laid in the sun beside them while their swords leaned against the wooden bench. It was a scene from her first dream. Looking back, she had not met Kaburamaru, but was still able to imagine him exactly as he was now. 

How would Obanai react if she showed him these? The corners of her mouth twitched. He told her once he dreamt of being a samurai. It was another flimsy piece of evidence to support her dream-reincarnation theory. Would he think she was a nutjob? Mitsuri puffed up her cheeks before releasing a breath. 

Unfortunately, she would not get the chance to show him the drawings until she came back from Kanae’s bachelorette party. Obanai was throwing Sanemi his bachelor party the same night. He said he rented out a rage room and then they would spend the rest of the night playing pool and throwing darts at Sanemi’s favorite bar, Twelve Moons. Mitsuri’s conspiracy theory would have to be delayed after a night of bar hopping, dancing, and hanging out with the girls. 

“So, you’re saying we’re supposed to wreck this entire room?” Sanemi asked incredulously. The other men included Kyojuro and Sanemi’s three younger brothers, Shuya, Hiroshi, and Koto. Sanemi’s only work friend, Masachika Kumeno, joined them. Obanai questioned how Masachika and Sanemi were friends given his joyful demeanor. He wasn't the type of person Sanemi typically sought out as a friend. 

Gyomei had been invited, but he declined to come to the rage room. He would be joining them later at the bar along with Tengen and Kannon. 

The groom scanned the darkened room. There were vases crafted out of glass and ceramic on top of a desk along with mounted drywall. A beaten up mustard yellow couch was up against the far wall. Springs burst out of the middle cushion. By the entryway, there was a section of bats, hatchets, hammers, and katanas for the patrons to choose from. Weapons of destruction. 

“Yes,” Obanai replied. Sanemi punched Obanai’s shoulder and twisted his head towards him. A wild smile plastered on his face and his purple eyes flashed like a feral dog released into a pit full of rabbits, squirrels, and moles. 

“You outdid yourself, fuckwad,” Sanemi commended his best friend before cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms above his head. When Obanai found out about the Rage District he booked it for Sanemi’s bachelor’s party. The engineer thrived on chaos and destruction. It was also a throwback to their teenage years where they would break into old buildings and smash beer bottles in anger. It was the best coping mechanism they could conceive in their youth.

“Anything for you, shithead,” Obanai returned the favor and grinned behind his mask. “We could have gone camping too,” Obanai offered nonchalantly. Sanemi narrowed his purple eyes and flipped him off before turning away. 

“Let’s fucking go!” The white haired man took one of the bats and headed towards the vases. 

The rest of the men followed Sanemi. They were required to wear ivory coveralls, closed toe shoes, goggles, and gloves to prevent injury. Even then they were required to sign a liability waiver. Sanemi picked up a dark green glass vase and tossed it into the air before striking it with his bat. The sound of breaking glass echoed in the room followed by Sanemi’s delighted yell. 

Obanai watched as Kyojuro took one of the hatchets and started hacking at the couch. Sanemi’s brothers joined the eldest in destroying vases. Masachika grabbed a hammer and joined Kyojuro to destroy the couch. Usually, Obanai steered away from loud activities, but watching Sanemi and the other men relishing in the chaos brought a smile to his face. He could deal with the noise for his best friend. 

Obanai grabbed the hilt of a katana. He hadn’t held one in years, but the grasp came back instantly. It was a natural extension of his arm. When was the last time he held a sword? Other than in his blasted dreams. Now wasn’t the time to ruminate over them. They would go away with time. 

He strode over to the couch. Kyojuro and Masachika looked up and took a step back to allow Obanai room to use the sword. With ease, he swept the blade horizontally across the back of the yellow couch. It split like a knife cutting through butter. He brought the katana over his head, cut it vertically, and then twisted it diagonally. It was exhilarating to swing a sword again. Even though he hadn’t practiced in years, his strikes were precise. It must have been muscle memory recalling the Corps drills. 

He paused mid strike. Not the Corps, they were kendo drills. There were a handful of times Obanai practiced kendo with a real katana since high school. What was he thinking? He blinked away the notion and followed through, cutting off a piece of backrest cushion. 

“You look like a pro,” Kyojuro praised him, yellow-red eyes blazing. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and turned away. Obanai brought the katana down to his side and went to the front of the room to put it away. He needed something that wouldn’t stir unwanted dreams. Setting the katana back in its place, he decided to forgo a weapon and joined Sanemi and his brothers in smashing the glass. 

Obanai flung one of the clear vases at the wall like a baseball. It shattered into a million crystallized pieces. The groom howled and bumped his shoulder against Obanai. 

“It’s been a while since we let loose, huh?” Sanemi asked. 

“Yeah, it has,” Obanai commented. His mind drifted back to the familiar sensation he felt as he swung the katana. The tickle at the back of his neck as he seamlessly sliced through the air in a serpentine manner. It was eerily reminiscent of his dreams. There was no point in pondering them right now. Shuya grabbed a white porcelain vase decorated with red spider lilies and threw it at the cement wall. At least the sound of shattering glass would distract him. 

For the next hour, the groom’s party destroyed the collection of vases, plates, glass, a couch, and drywall. As they walked out of the room, Obanai heard the crisp sound of glass underneath their shoes. Sanemi and his brothers slapped Obanai’s back and thanked him for arranging this activity. Internally, Obanai felt a sense of appreciation and pride knowing he had made the right choice for Sanemi’s bachelor party. 

Mitsuri: How’s the bachelor party? Did Sanemi like the surprise?

Obanai: Yes. He looked like a teenager again. 

Mitsuri: Yay! I don’t get it, but you know him better than I do. 

Mitsuri attached a picture of herself in a royal blue dress with Kanae, Shinobu, and Kanao hugging each other. Kanae was gowned in an ivory skater dress with a ‘Future Bride’ sash over her front. Shinobu wore a dark grey jumpsuit while Kanao wore a light pink knee length dress. 

Mitsuri: We’re about to head out. 

Obanai: You look stunning. Have fun and stay safe. 

Mitsuri: Will do 😘

Obanai: If you need anything, call me

Mitsuri: Thanks! 💚🩷

Obanai: 🤍🖤

Mitsuri: Do you know what that means?

Obanai: I love you

Mitsuri: Ha- I made you say it! Love you too 🥰

Even from afar she could make him laugh at her absurdity. 

The club pulsed with a cacophony of sounds between the music and people yelling just to hear each other. Different colored lights flickered overhead while a fog drifted through the crowd, softening the atmosphere. Between the lights and fog, it looked like an impressionist painting.

Suma dragged Mitsuri, Makio, Kanae, and Ahma, one of their old sorority sisters onto the dance floor over 30 minutes ago. Mitsuri took two shots of tequila with her sorority sisters and she could feel the alcohol hitting her veins. Her body felt light as she let go of her inhibitions and concern for how she looked dancing. Kanae was also feeling the alcohol based on how she was dropping it down low and matching the rhythm of the current song. Based on her movements, the dance lessons definitely helped her. Or the alcohol, it was a toss up. Suma and Makio danced together and shot each other heated glances before Makio pushed Suma into the wall to make out. 

“Get a room!” Kanae cried out jokingly, her cheeks red from the alcohol. Makio paused to stick out her tongue in defiance. 

Mitsuri nudged Kanae and pulled her into a dance with Ahma and her. Luckily, Kanae was easily distracted when she drank. She and Ahma spun Kanae around. Mitsuri giggled as Kanae’s long hair whipped around, nearly hitting Mitsuri’s bare arms as she raised them over her head. It was just like their college days where they would go clubbing on the weekends. Even the smell of beer and hard liquor blanketed the club. That and sweat. 

“I’m going to check on Shinobu and the others!” Mitsuri yelled and pointed in the direction of the bar where she last saw the girls. Kanae and Ahma simply nodded, most likely not hearing her over the blaring music and the haze that settled over the club. 

The pink haired woman weaved her way through the crowd as best she could. It was easier to go with the flow of the club goers than to fight them. A brunette man attempted to pull her into his group of friends. His eyes were glued to her breasts, which made her hold up her hands and make an X with her arms to ward him off. He took the hint and moved onto another woman in the crowd. 

Soon enough, Mitsuri reached the edges of the dance floor and surveyed the area before locating Shinobu sitting at the bar with Hinasturu and Kanao. Mitsuri approached them and found herself standing next to Kanao. Her mouth was set in a thin line and her eyes were wide as she looked at the striated granite of the bar. She was the shyest out of the Kocho sisters. 

“How are you doing?” Mitsuri asked. Kanao smiled and nodded as if she knew what Mitsuri had said. Always a polite girl. Mitsuri took her phone out and typed out what she had said. Kanao made an ‘Okay’ sign with her hand, but her arms were crossed and the rest of her body stiff. Mitsuri used her phone again. 

Mitsuri: We’ll be going to another bar soon. 

Kanao made another ‘Okay’ sign and smiled politely. The younger woman took a sip from her gin and tonic. Mitsuri shifted her attention to Shinobu and Hinasturu. 

“Do you think Kanae is ready to hit the next bar?” Hinasturu asked. Mitsuri glanced back to where she left Kanae and Ahma. They were still spinning around, but their movements were slowing down. 

“Yeah, I’ll go grab them,” Mitsuri said. Hinasturu shook her head and placed a hand over Mitsuri’s bare shoulder. 

“I’ll get them. Makio and Suma won’t like it if you try to break them up,” the third wife said, pointing to her fellow wives against the wall. Makio’s hands roamed over Suma’s hips and Mitsuri felt herself flush. It wasn’t her place to interrupt them. Hinasturu walked away. 

“I feel like I haven’t talked to you the whole day,” Mitsuri said as she hugged Shinobu. The smaller woman hugged her back. 

“To be fair you’ve been running around with everyone else, making sure they’re having a good time. You did a fantastic job organizing everything,” Shinobu said, letting go of Mitsuri. She picked up her martini and sipped on it. 

Mitsuri’s chest lightened. She fed off of people’s praises, which validated her existence. It was something she still needed to work on, so she could derive her worth from her own person as opposed to others. With time it’d be easier. You have inherent worth. You are capable, empathetic, and unique. She reminded herself.

“It helps that I have the entire summer off to focus on the wedding,” Mitsuri tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not like I’m a doctor or something.” Shinobu smirked and her eyes gleamed with amusement. 

“No, but your job is just as valuable, if not more than mine,” Shinobu said. “You’re shaping children’s future and your students will always remember you. Don’t diminish yourself!” Shinobu poked her chest and gave her a stern look. 

Mitsuri’s face warmed either from the alcohol or Shinobu’s words. Obanai told her not to diminish herself too. Maybe she should listen if her partner and friend were saying the same thing. 

“Right!” Mitsuri agreed and before she could say anything else Kanae jumped onto Mitsuri’s back. Mitsuri wrapped her arms under Kanae’s legs on reflex as Kanae’s arms encircled her neck. 

“Onward, my honor of maid!” The eldest sister screamed and Mitsuri cracked up. They had gotten Kanae to this drunken level already. She never let herself be free, but tonight surrounded by her sisters and friends Kanae could be. 

“Next stop, the Moon Palace!” Mitsuri said and proceeded to make choo choo noises. “All aboard!” Mitsuri bounced her best friend up and headed towards the exit. 

It was bound to be a long night, but one worth it to celebrate the tall, dark haired woman. 

Twelve Moons was not as busy as it normally was on a Friday night, but it had enough people Obanai noted all the closest exits. The bachelor party was sitting in the back of the main room. The closest exit was behind them. His neck prickled as he peered around the bar. The lights were dimmed. The smell of hard liquor and beer permeated the air. They banned smoking inside, but allowed people to smoke on the outdoor patio. The faint smoke tickled Obanai’s nose. A rock band played at the front, which kept most of the crowd away from their table. 

You can handle this. It’s no different from any other time you’ve been here with Sanemi, Tengen, Kyo, or others. Obanai reminded himself. He’d been here dozens of times with the guys. He closed his eyes. Just focus on one thing. The night is almost over. 

Obanai sat at a high table with Gyomei, Masachika, and Tengen. Sanemi and his brothers were playing darts while Kyojuro was grabbing the table with a round of shots. Per usual, Obanai was the sober driver for tonight’s activities. The idea of drinking until he vomited sounded horrific. From online research, most bachelor parties ended with a pile of drunk people resting with their heads over the toilet, nearest bucket, or trash can. It was not Obanai’s idea of fun, but it wasn’t his bachelor party either. 

Gyomei nursed a pitcher of beer alone and it looked like a mug in his giant hands. Masachika, Gyomei, and Tengen discussed plans for the rest of the summer. Masachika had to entertain a couple from Hokkaido in the next two weeks. He had to sway them into selling their property to the engineering company. Obanai knew the feeling from when he had to impress the future business partners for Nichirin. 

“Apparently, the couple hasn’t seen the property in fifteen years, but held onto it for sentimentality’s sake,” Masachika shrugged his shoulders. 

“What sentimentality if they haven’t been around?” Obanai asked and shifted his mask up slightly to sip his glass of water. Masachika did his best to avoid looking directly at him. Sanemi must have warned him about Obanai’s particular quirk. 

“You don’t have to wear it in front of us,” Tengen said, pointing at the mask. “You’re a cutie pie underneath,” he winked at Obanai and the chef exaggerated the way he rolled his eyes. In the cerulean sling Tengen had over his chest, his baby slept soundly. Is that all Kannon ever did? Even with all the background noise, band playing, and Tengen’s energetic voice he slept. Masachika looked between Tengen and Obanai, unsure of how to react to their dynamic. 

“Would scars bother you, Masachika?” Tengen shifted his gaze to the man in question.

“No, not really,” Masachika answered. He pointed to his left cheek where he had two faint lines running horizontally from right below his eye to his ear. “I’ve got my own. My dog bit me when I was a kid,” the short haired man explained. 

“Why are we talking about scars?” Gyomei asked, turning his head towards Masachika. 

Wait, did Gyomei not know about my scars? How did he not know about my scars? Because they never discussed them and without sight Gyomei never saw him wearing a mask, so he never asked about it. They’ve known each other for almost a year and the conversation never came up? Obanai had to pause at the realization, dumbfounded. 

“Our sweet Obanai wears a mask to hide the scars on his cheeks,” Tengen chimed in. “You didn’t know?” 

“No. I knew he wore a mask because his voice was muffled. I figured it was a work regulation or he was worried about germs,” Gyomei set his hand under his chin and shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It never came up,” Obanai confessed, “and I suppose it never mattered since you couldn’t see them.” Tengen grinned ear to ear and placed a hand over Kannon’s back. 

“There you have it. No one will care if you don’t wear the mask,” Tengen said. “It’s your best friends, brother, and Masachika here. No one else matters here,” he added, trying to convince Obanai to pull the mask off. He reached across the table and patted Obanai’s masked cheek. “Take it off for your boys, babe,” Tengen said. Obanai narrowed his eyes on the taller man and slapped away his hand. 

“Uzui,” the dark haired man tried to keep his voice even. He glanced briefly at the baby who shifted in his sling, his small hand reaching out of the fabric. “I’m not taking off the mask,” he said, his lips pulling back in irritation. Tengen always entertained himself by pushing other people’s buttons, Obanai reminded himself. Tengen was not going to change, but Obanai was trying to. 

“Shots for everyone!” Kyojuro shouted on Obanai’s right side as he set down a tray of shots. Obanai took a whiff and felt sick. The scent of cheap whiskey prevailed over the other shots. He grimaced, recalling his mother’s binge drinking. Kyojuro must have forgotten about Obanai’s aversion to amber liquid. Obanai rotated his body away from the group and tried to compose himself. 

The night was nearly over. He made it this far. Twelve Moons would only be open for another hour and then he could drive Gyomei, Kyojuro, and Masachika home. Tengen would be taking Sanemi and his brothers home with Kannon. Sanemi and his brothers came back to the table. Then everyone, but Obanai and Tengen took a shot. 

“I’m going outside for a second,” Obanai said and pushed his chair out. He needed a breather away from everyone and the bar to refocus. As he stood up and started walking away Tengen stopped him. 

“Take Kannon with you,” Tengen said, removing Kannon from the front facing sling and shoving him in Obanai’s arms. “I’m going to play pool. It’s time to show the boys how it’s done,” he rubbed his hands together. 

“Uzui, I’m not taking your baby-“ Obanai tried to stop him, but he was already halfway across the room with the rest of the men following after him like a hen and her chicks. “It’s just you and me, I guess,” Obanai sighed and held the baby to his chest. He blinked at Obanai. His fuschia eyes focused on Obanai’s face. He was wearing a sable onesie with the words, ‘Baby Groomsman’, over the front in glitter bubble letters. Of course, Tengen would have his kid wear this to a bachelor party. 

Obanai headed out the back door with the infant. The humidity was not terrible for a summer’s night. Dark clouds blanketed the sky leaving it impossible to see the stars or moon. Too bad. The chef didn’t have much experience with babies, but he felt protective over this one even if he did look like a little potato. Kannon babbled as he extended his hand up to Obanai’s face. 

“Did you need something?” Obanai asked and brought the two month old closer. Kannon’s fingers twisted around the mask’s elastic strap and pulled. Despite his small size, he ripped the elastic band off his ear. Obanai’s mask fell to one side. His eyes widened waiting for Kannon to start screaming when he saw the crude scars. The boy didn’t though. He simply stared. No malice or judgment. Kannon’s lips curled upward and he aimlessly reached for Obanai’s scars. His fingers trailed over Obanai’s face. He was delighted to feel the different texture. 

Children held no prejudice against scars. They had no concept of them or any preconceived notions of beauty or ugliness. They simply accepted new experiences and appearances. Unconditional acceptance. 

Obanai’s eyes itched as Kannon touched his face and smiled. His heart warmed and he knew he would do anything for this kid. Even if he was Tengen’s son. 

“They don’t bother you, do they?” Obanai asked, knowing Kannon didn’t understand. His fuschia eyes looked up and his brow furrowed in confusion. “You never have to be afraid of me,” he promised. He inhaled Kannon’s fresh scent. Obanai could not help, but grin at the dark haired boy. 

Something tugged at his chest. Another emotion he had difficulty identifying. It was similar to the one he felt when he saw pictures of Mitsuri holding Kannon. Amusement was probably the closest emotion he could identify to this sensation. Obanai repositioned Kannon and pulled the mask completely off. He had more masks in his car parked a block away. 

His feet started to move towards his Jeep before he paused. They would be leaving in less than an hour. Obanai ran hand over his cheeks, the cobweb of scars less prominent than he remembered. If a baby could handle seeing his scars, his friends could handle it. Kannon’s tiny fingers dragged across his face. His eyes leaked a few tears upon contact. Obanai shut his eyes and inhaled the warm air. He could handle showing his face for thirty minutes. 

Just think of it as another test. Obanai attempt to calm himself. Despite Tengen’s obnoxious behavior, he was right. The strangers did not matter. His neck tensed as he thought of people pointing and staring at his scars. He gritted his teeth. If they judged him for his appearance that was their problem, not his. It was a reflection on themselves and their prejudice. 

Dr. Ubuyashiki and he had been working on his self image. It needed more time, but he was becoming accustomed to feeling and seeing the scars. Obanai was not the villain he believed himself to be, not if a baby could look him in the eye and still smile. 

“Thanks, Kannon,” he whispered to the boy who shifted in Obanai’s arms. He wiped off the few tears he spilled. The side door opened and Kyojuro appeared. 

“Obanai, come back inside you have to-” His brother started loudly before taking in his maskless face. He broke into a smile and his eyebrows raised. 

“Don’t say a word,” Obanai said swiftly. “Tengen’s reaction will be enough.” Kyojuro pursed his lips, but could not suppress his grin.

“You have to decide on a tie breaker for the pool game. It’s between my team and Masachika’s team,” Kyojuro said and waved him into the bar. Obanai followed, still holding Kannon. He kept his face lowered and used his shoulder length hair as a shield between him and the crowd. You can do this.  

Tengen glared at Sanemi and Hiroshi on the opposite side of the pool table. His arms were crossed in front of his puffed out chest. There was an electric current in the air as Sanemi and Tengen glared at each other. Of course, they would be the ones to end up in a tie. Sanemi wore a sour expression as Hiroshi looked everywhere but his older brother and Tengen’s staring competition. As Obanai approached, Hiroshi turned his attention to the groomsmen. The younger man’s mouth fell open and Obanai tried to ignore the way his cheeks heated up at the new attention. Hiroshi pulled on Sanemi’s short sleeve. 

Sanemi wrinkled his nose, breaking eye contact with Tengen to look at the chef. His mouth opened in an ‘O’ before smirking. Tengen turned then to see Obanai’s bare face. 

“Babe, I thought you said you weren’t taking it off,” the white haired man grinned. 

“Kannon pulled it off,” Obanai explained. He didn’t have much experience controlling his facial expressions in front of his friends without the mask. He bit the inside of his cheek attempting to keep his unease at bay. 

“So, you told me no, but my baby convinced you?” Tengen asked and Obanai nodded. “I’ve been trying for years, but my little chaos gremlin made it happen,” Tengen threw back his head and barked out a laugh. 

“He made a compelling argument,” Obanai quipped. He felt his scars pull back into a smirk. 

“He only babbles and coos,” Uzui extended his arm and gestured to his baby. 

“Like I said it was a very compelling argument,” Obanai said with a straight face. Sanemi laughed at that. As if on cue, Kannon blew a spit bubble with an audible pop. “Another great point, Kannon,” Obanai said and bounced the infant who stuck out his tongue at his father. 

“What the fuck? Is my own child bullying me?” Tengen asked and walked up to Obanai. “Give him back to me. He’s spent too much time with you,” Tengen said as he scooped up his baby. The chef gave him up without a fight. Obanai could be maskless until they left. It was another step up on the staircase. He would reach the top level one day and be comfortable in his own skin. 

Obanai: I just got home. Let me know when you get back to the hotel. 

Mitsuri: We just got picked up to go back. I’m little tipsy.

Obanai: You mean ‘a little’?

Mitsuri: Yep! That!

Obanai: Drink some water and eat something before bed. 

Mitsuri: We’re picking up 🌮 🔔! How did everything go?

Obanai: Taco Bell? Good. 

Mitsuri: Ding Ding winner! 

Obanai: It sounds weird saying this, but I didn’t wear my mask near the end while we were at the bar. I wanted to let you know before Tengen told you.

Mitsuri: WHAT!?!? 🥲I wish I had been there now. I would have given you so many kisses. I love your face. Could we go out on a date without the mask? If you’re open to it. 

Obanai: Not yet…but eventually. 

Mitsuri: Okay! 😊xoxo

Obanai: xoxo?

Mitsuri: Hugs and kisses. You still have much to learn from your emoji sensei. 

Mitsuri sat on the edge of the hotel’s outdoor pool with her legs in the water. It was a clear night and she could see the stars if she squinted past the city’s lights. Her sketchbook on her lap and the colored pencils and pastels next to her. She was coloring the two drawings of her and Obanai in their demon slayer attire. 

Kanae and the rest of the bachelorette party went to bed an hour ago. The teacher laid in bed, tossing and turning while Kanao slept soundly beside her. Kanae and Shinobu were in the other queen sized bed. The effects of the alcohol wore off after eating her weight in crunchy tacos and chips. Quietly, she crept out of the room with her drawings and art materials while they all slept. 

She missed Obanai’s steady breaths and his arms wrapped around her. Even though they had not been together long, she grew accustomed to sleeping next to him. Obanai slept on his side with one hand tucked under his pillow. His bare chest pressed against her back as he held her close despite the summer heat. The pine scent over the sheets lulled her to sleep. 

“What are you up to?” A voice piped up. Mitsuri nearly jumped into the pool at the sound. She had been so focused on coloring in her lime green thigh high socks she did not hear someone opening the door. Shinobu bent over and peered at Mitsuri’s drawing. For a brief second, her friend’s whole body froze. She squinted at Shinobu, not understanding the reaction. Mitsuri glanced down realizing it could be the fact her breasts nearly spilled out of the uniform top in the drawing. Immediately, she shut the sketchbook and threw it to the side.

“Sorry, it’s something I’ve been-” Mitsuri tried to come up with a reason for the lewd image. 

“So, you remember,” Shinobu commented, closing her eyes slowly and the edges crinkled in amusement. 

What? Mitsuri blinked, mystified by Shinobu’s words. Shinobu sat down and crossed her legs. She wore a plain white tank top and lavender sleep shorts. Her violet eyes reflected the water’s surface as she waited for Mitsuri’s response. 

“Remember what?” Mitsuri asked. What was Shinobu implying? Shinobu’s lip curled up before turning to face her. 

“The dreams,” Shinobu said with a straight face.

Oh.

Shinobu grabbed the stretch book and opened it to the pages with Obanai and her. He wore his uniform with Kaburamaru resting on his shoulders. Shinobu ran a finger over the lines. 

“With demons and the Demon Slayer Corps. You were the Love Hashira and I was the Insect Hashira.” Usually the doctor had a mischievous glimmer to her violet eyes as she teased her friends, but they were serious.

“Umm, yes,” Mitsuri nodded slowly and her heart sped up. If Shinobu knew the name of their organization and what hashira were, she wasn’t simply teasing the pink haired woman. She knew what the dreams were. “Do you know what they are? The dreams I mean,” Mitsuri turned her whole body towards her friend. “I’ve been wondering for a while now, but I can’t find anything definitive and I don’t know of anyone else who is having these dreams. Well, Obanai is, I think, but we’ve never talked about it-”

“Oh, Mitsuri,” Shinobu laughed and it echoed off the walls. “You haven’t changed one bit. Always rambling and still hopelessly in love with Obanai,” Shinobu covered her mouth as she tried to contain herself. “It’s funny to see how our lives run parallel to our previous one.”

“I knew it!” Mitsuri exclaimed and threw her fist into the air in victory. The dreams were glimpses to another life, she wasn’t a nutcase. Or maybe, Shinobu and her were both delusional and should be locked in an asylum. No, she could not think that way. She wasn’t crazy and neither was Shinobu. 

“How did you find out what they were? Did someone tell you?” Mitsuri leaned forward into her friend’s space unable to contain her energy. Finally, someone could give her the answers she sought. The doctor shook her head and looked back at the pool.

“No one told me,” she said, her voice shifting to neutrality. Her eyes started to glaze over, lost in thought. “I was fourteen years old when the dreams started. They were silly misadventures where Kanae and I would roam the Japanese countryside killing demons. There was never a dull moment in the beginning, but then they turned,” Shinobu shut her eyes.

“A year later I had a dream where we were on a mission. We’d already killed the mission's demon, so I figured we’d be safe if we separated for a little bit. She decided to grab dinner while I stayed at the inn. We weren’t safe and Kanae was murdered. Her body was bloodied, large wounds across her torso and arms from where blades cut through her uniform. I held her in my arms as she died. I blamed myself. If I had been there, maybe I could have saved her,” the doctor exhaled slowly. “That wasn’t the case though. If I had been there, I would have died too as much as I hate to admit it.” Her jaw clenched at the memory. 

Mitsuri blinked and felt the tears forming. In one of the previous dreams, Shinobu said Kanae died, but Mitsuri never truly registered the information. It didn’t make sense. Her best friend was very much alive and well in this life. Her green eyes widened. She never met Kanae in the previous one. 

“The morning after I dreamt of her death, I clung to her. She was supposed to go on a field trip, but I wouldn’t let her leave. She stayed home,” Shinobu faced Mitsuri again. “Another girl on the trip was assaulted and nearly died if not for modern medicine. She was going to be Kanae's field trip buddy if she had gone. I knew then something was different about the dreams,” she explained.

“I kept meeting people from my dreams including you, Sanemi, Obanai, and Giyuu. Once would have been a coincidence, but five plus people?” She shook her head back and forth. “There was no way it could be a random chance. How did you figure it out?”

“They started last fall, but I thought they were dreams, you know? A while ago I heard Obanai talking in his sleep. He promised to protect me and used the exact words I heard in a dream the week before,” Mitsuri scratched her neck. “Like you I realized it couldn’t be a coincidence. He said he dreamt of being a samurai before. The evidence was slim, but I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to them.” 

Shinobu nodded and held her pointer finger to her mouth in thought. What else did she know? What happened in the battle between Muzan and everyone? Who else knew about their other selves? She had so many questions. If Shinobu had known since she was 14 years, she would have had 12 years worth of dreams. 

“You’re the first person I met who knew what the Demon Slayer Corps was. I asked Kanae once if she remembered, but she denied it. I mentioned the Corps in passing to everyone I encountered, including you. None of you seemed to recall our past lives until now,” Shinobu said, dropping her hand back to the tiled pool edge. 

She did not remember Shinobu mentioning the Corps, but she had no knowledge of it until last fall. They started after she met Obanai. If no one else remembered, why were she and Obanai having these dreams? Well, she was pretty sure Obanai was having these dreams. Was it possible to have them, but not remember them? Doubt crept in. Maybe Obanai had an actual dream where he was a samurai, not a hashira and she read too much into it. She pursed her lips. 

“It’s been lonely,” Shinobu spoke softly. Her eyes drifted to the water. “I’d thought I’d meet someone who remembered, but after twelve years? I gave up hope.”

“Though, it could be better if they don’t remember,” Shinobu mused. “Our previous lives were unkind. I lost my parents, my sister, my tsugokus, and so many others to demons. I dedicated my life to plotting revenge against the demon who killed Kanae. She asked me to leave the Corps to live a normal life.” She gripped the edge of the pool.

“I could never live a normal life.” Her eyes grew distant as she continued. “None of the other hashira could either. We were all damaged in some way. My need for revenge and to fill the void my sister left in the Corps. Sanemi’s fear of getting close to others. Everyone he loved died except for Genya. Kyojuro’s need to make up for his father’s failures. Obanai’s self hatred. Muichiro’s dissociation.” 

Mitsuri attempted to listen and understand Shinobu, but Mitsuri’s dreams were small glimpses. She didn’t have a lifetime of memories like Shinobu did. Who was Muichiro? He must have been one of the other hashira. 

“When we got to the Infinity Castle I was able to get revenge on the demon that killed Kanae. It was my only saving grace before I died,” Shinobu said. Mitsuri gasped, which forced Shinobu’s eyes to meet hers. 

“You died?” Mitsuri said as sweat formed on her upper lip. The color drained from her face. Given the nature of their work, death was a possibility. Mitsuri tried her best to ignore the possibility then and now.  

“Yeah. I poisoned myself with wisteria in order to kill Upper Moon Two,” Shinobu confirmed. Mitsuri winced and let silence follow. Shinobu was younger than her. “I was only eighteen,” the doctor added. Mitsuri looked down at the water.

Shinobu was so young. They were all under 25 if she remembered correctly. She hugged herself as her stomach dropped. Who else died? Did she or Obanai die? 

“Sorry, Mitsuri, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Shinobu said, bringing Mitsuri back to the present. She swung her arm around Mitsuri’s shoulders and squeezed. Mitsuri shivered thinking of the vision. There was a chance Obanai died when he ran back into battle where she was never able to confess. Was that their ending? It was something she pondered, but she hoped it wasn’t true. 

“Who else died in the Infinity Castle?” Mitsuri asked, bracing herself for a less than happy answer. For whatever reason, the name of the fortress elicited the sensation of falling through the air. When she shut her eyes she saw the red and yellow lights illuminating the shifting floors and columns. It had been the Demon King’s fortress. She pursed her lips. 

“I don’t know. I was the first to die, so everything that occurred after my death I can’t answer for,” Shinobu said, her voice softening. “I’ve had these memories for twelve years and no one to share them with. I forget that when I first had them, I was frustrated and terrified. It was difficult learning my fate. I should have been more careful with what I said.”

“No, it’s alright,” Mitsuri replied. “I appreciate you telling me what you know. I’ve only had a few dreams, so I don’t know what happened after you passed. Maybe it would be better not to know,” she tried to laugh it off. Her heart thudded while dread filled her at the truth behind her words. 

Her vision blurred and she saw Obanai in his uniform and pinstripe haori. He was running back into battle with Muzan. Dust kicked up behind him. She struggled to stand up as the medic attempted to console her. Her arm extended to grasp her lover. The undeniable agony stretched over her chest as he became a speck. Dream Mitsuri feared it was the last time they would see each other. 

“No, please! Don’t die, Iguro-san!” she screamed into the night. “I don’t want anyone to die anymore!”

It was the last part of the dream she could remember, but it was not the end. If only it had been. At the edges of her vision, she saw bits and pieces of the other half. After the attendant bandaged her wounds, she charged back into the battle with her whiplike sword. A flurry of disgusting, pink flesh twirling in the air to attack her friends, Sanemi, Giyuu, Gyomei, and Tanjiro. 

All of them suffered from horrific wounds. She spotted Obanai once, but he was far away. The only detail she could make out was Obanai’s twisted blade burning red. She rolled, twisted, and dodged the best she could. 

Another image flashed across her eyes. She lost her sword and she grabbed hold of the monster’s tentacles and tore them from his body. When she did so she lost sensation in her arms and then there was nothing except the darkness, beckoning her to its embrace.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Mitsuri and Obanai sat in a soba shop. The shop owner’s three children ran around the front of the shop tagging each other. They were laughing as they dashed between and under tables. He found himself smiling at them. Children deserved this type of life where they were free to be themselves. The shop owner wandered out of the back to apologize to the Hashiras. However, Mitsuri would not accept it. She set down her chopsticks and started chasing after the children. 

“You are a lucky man,” the shop owner commented. Obanai turned his head in question. “Your wife will make a wonderful mother,” he said with a knowing smile. 

Obanai began to shake his head, ready to deny the claim before he saw Mitsuri pick up one of the girls and spun her around. His heart sped up. Mitsuri wanted children more than anything. He could tell just by watching her she’d have the patience, empathy, and unconditional love for her own. Mitsuri wanted to marry the man she loved and give him a houseful of children. It wasn’t Obanai she wanted that life with. 

“You’re mistaken. We’re friends, nothing else,” Obanai said, lowering his voice. A vision of a dark haired infant with light green eyes and two beauty marks appeared in his mind. A child like him and Mitsuri. He shook his head, not willing to entertain the idea. Mitsuri tickled the little girl’s sides before meeting Obanai’s eyes. She beamed and he loathed how his lips curled upwards, watching her with the children. Her laugh rang out like bells. This longing was another way to torment himself. He would be the last Iguro. The world did not need his tainted bloodline to continue. 

If he came from an honorable clan, he could have dreamed of marrying Mitsuri. He envisioned her in a white shiro muku and her eccentric pastel hair covered in a hood while he wore a dark grey kimono. His fingers tapped the wood table lost in the fantasy. They would share three cups of sake and say their vows. Obanai forced his hand under the table as it started to tremble. Kaburamaru hissed, reminding Obanai of his position and inability to give Mitsuri the type of life she deserved. That wasn’t enough. 

His vision blurred seeing another shadowy figure in the restaurant. Unwelcome and unbidden. The one Mitsuri loved and wanted. Obanai didn’t have the courage to ask who it was. It was none of his business. Mitsuri was not his. If he did know, he would act like a bigot or tell him to leave Mitsuri alone. As long as the man treated her well and appreciated her as she was. His thumbnail bit into his skin. If the man didn’t Obanai would kill him. 

“That can always change,” the older man said with a grin before he slipped back into the kitchen. Obanai reached up to stroke Kaburamaru’s head in comfort. Mitsuri held one girl in her arms as she dodged the other two children. 

It can’t. She loves another. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Obanai woke up and opened his eyes to a dark room. The last thought was a lie. Mitsuri wanted to be with him. There was no one else. Obanai was sure of it. Deception was not a trait Mitsuri contained. Her face displayed every emotion and thought. Despite all his flaws and insecurities, she loved him. He swiped a hand over his face. 

There was no way to escape these dreams. They came unbidden. Maybe it was time to accept them as the new method of torture. He groaned. No more nightmares about his childhood, but they were replaced with a different type of torment. Dreams where he denied himself a future. That Obanai told himself he was meant to die fighting demons. He rolled on his side to check his phone. 

The image on the screen was a selfie of him and Mitsuri. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders. She asked if he would be willing to take his mask off for a picture, but he declined. As always, she accepted his answer in stride. She took a photo of her kissing his covered cheek. There was a faint blush right above his ebony mask. 

One day they could take a picture together without his mask. His scars were a part of him. He could not change how they looked, but he could change his perception. Tonight he went without his mask at the bar for thirty minutes. That was progress no matter how miniscule. He set his iphone back on the nightstand to stare into the dark. 

Why did he dream about him and Mitsuri in a soba shop? That was not the point. It was the insinuation the shop owner made about their relationship. He tapped each finger tip to his thumb. 

How did he imagine a future with Mitsuri? What did the future entail? He knew he wanted to come home to her every day. His mouth twisted as his thoughts turned. The answer was obvious. He never wanted to marry. There had never been anyone until Mitsuri. However, his dream self yearned to tie his soul to Mitsuri’s. Was he any different? 

No, he wasn’t.

His heart rate was normal and he wasn’t sweating. No panic setting in at the realization. It had taken him months to accept he could be in a relationship. Let alone a healthy one. Before he didn’t want to force anyone to be stuck with him and his bullshit. Mitsuri loved him in spite of all of his flaws. Steadily, he was crawling out of the basement and he caught glimmers of the sunlight. The light grew more prevalent everyday. 

Beyond that, Obanai’s insides churned as he finally recognized an emotion that eluded him when he held Kannon. A sense of longing. A desire to see a child with silky, raven black hair, heart shaped face, and light green eyes. He closed his eyes, envisioning them looking at him. A smile etched on their unblemished face as they reached for his hand to help them stand up. Obanai held their hand and lifted them to standing. On wobbly legs, the child took a few steps with Obanai’s support. He could not help, but think they were adorable, especially with the beauty marks under both eyes. The sight sobered him quickly. 

Never in his life had he ever thought of children. He denied wanting them because of his mental health issues and past abuse. He opened his eyes again. He never allowed himself to want children, not when they would inherit his tainted blood. Except now he knew his blood was not tainted. He was a person capable of changing and evolving. His mental illnesses resulted from the abuse he endured, but he was recovering. His body felt lighter as he acknowledged the changes in himself. 

He never let himself truly desire anything until this year. Biting the inside of his cheek, Obanai could feel another barrier weakening. The child he saw was a mixture of him and Mitsuri. There was no denying it when they had her beauty marks. His mouth twisted in uncertainty. 

The vision shifted to include Mitsuri. She crouched on the opposite side of the room with her arms outstretched for the child-No, their child. Obanai led their child where she scooped them up into her arms and blew raspberries on their stomach. Her eyes flashed with amusement before Mitsuri looked at Obanai. Another emotion rose. Undeniable love for the two in front of him. He bowed his head. 

Why was he even thinking about this?

A lingering sensation tinged the edges of his mind. Was his brain lying because of his infatuation with Mitsuri or a biological imperative? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Was this the type of future he wanted? Something so normal? 

Unease settled in his gut. He never asked her what her dream was. Even after knowing her for nearly a year he failed to ask. It was an oversight. He pursed his lips. 

What type of dream did Mitsuri have for the future?

Chapter Text

Mid July

<><><><><><>

“This will be so much fun,” Mitsuri practically skipped beside her companion. Obanai walked beside her with his hands tucked under his haori sleeves. “They have these outfits acrobats wear that would be perfect for flexibility training. I think they’re called leotards.”

Obanai nodded stiffly. He hadn’t met her gaze since the Hashira meeting, but he agreed to walk her home. His estate was three kilometers past hers, so it was normal for them to walk to and from meetings together. She’d rarely been to his residence. If they saw each other they went out to eat or he came to her home. 

“Can you imagine if one of the slayers gets a mark?” Mitsuri said as she punched the air. “Then Muzan will be no match for us. I wonder what other marks will look-“ 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” The Snake Hashira said, stopping in his path. She paused a few steps in front of him and turned to look back. His brows were furrowed as he glared at the gravel path. 

“Does what bother me?” Mitsuri asked. 

“What Ubuyashiki-sama revealed about the mark,” he answered. Beneath the bandages, his jaw clenched. “No one with the mark has lived past 25.”

“Oh,” she held her hand over her chest and stared at the spot Obanai was transfixed by. To be honest, she’d been too busy during the Hashira meeting and the planning session to contemplate the mark and her fate. 

Death was part of the natural order. Every day she lived was a blessing and now it meant more than before. Slayers were always at risk of dying. No one knew what their last day on earth was. All she could do was live until then and enjoy the time she had left with her friends, family, and him. 

“You once told me our lives aren’t guaranteed in the Corps,” Mitsuri started. “It’s true. We never know if this or that battle will be our last, so this mark…It doesn’t change that. In fact, I’d be lucky to live to be 25,” she tried to laugh, but it fell flat. Finally, he looked up to meet her gaze. His sullen look sobered her. 

“You deserve to live longer than 25. You have people waiting for you. What about your family and friends?” Obanai asked. A frog caught in her throat thinking of her five siblings and parents. She visited them once every three months at least since she entered the Corps. They knew she was involved in the military, but nothing of demons or slayers. She pursed her lips. 

“They know my job is risky, but they supported my decision to join the Corps. Whether I die tomorrow or in six years, I’ll cherish the days I have left,” Mitsuri explained. “I won’t be able to grow old, but I won’t be alone either. I’ll have my family, friends, and the Corps.” And you.  

“Besides, I’ll live on in their memory, isn’t that what you said?” Mitsuri gave him a closed mouth smile. His whole body stiffened. When Kyojuro passed he told her the same. “Will you remember me like I am now?”

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried,” he replied and took a step forward. Obanai dropped his hands to his side as he stared intently at her. The intensity behind them made her flush. “You have helped countless people, so no one will forget you.” He raised his right hand and looked like he was about to take her hand. Suddenly, her hands felt clammy.

It was times like this she debated confessing. Kaburamaru opened his maw and hissed quietly, which broke her train of thought. Obanai stroked the snake with his raised hand. Mitsuri forced herself to look away and keep walking. He had only been reaching up to pet Kaburamaru. He was not going to hold her hand. What was she thinking? She heard Obanai’s soft footsteps behind her. 

“Anyway,” Mitsuri said as she folded her hands behind her back. “I’m excited to see what everyone else comes up with for training. Once Tomioka-san joins us, it should be even more fun. He’ll probably do something like defensive measures. What do you think?”

“He won’t join us. He’s arrogant and thinks he can get the mark by himself,” Obanai answered. The Snake Hashira strictly adhered to the Corps rules and values. Tomioka failed to follow all the rules considering how he protected Tanjiro and Nezuko after she was turned into a demon. He made the correct decision. Nezuko was the first demon to conquer the sun and potentially lead to defeating the Demon King. 

“No, he’s not. He’s shy, but not arrogant,” Mitsuri said. “Do you remember the meeting where everyone met the Kamados? Well, Uzui-san pushed me down, accidentally, of course, and Tomioka-san helped me up.”

“Is that why you defended him today?” Obanai questioned with an edge to his voice. They were approaching her home. She heard her bees humming inside their hives she and her attendants crafted. The honey should be ready soon and then she could use it on pancakes, tea, or bread. Maybe she could treat her students after the training? She stopped in front of her estate. The moon shone high in the sky.

“Huh? No, he’s a good friend and fellow Hashira. We shouldn’t be fighting each other at a time like this,” Mitsuri replied. “Tomioka-san is rather kind and thoughtful once you get to know him. Generous too.” Obanai muttered something under his bandages she could not decipher. 

“Can you repeat that?” Mitsuri asked. Obanai did not make eye contact and shook his head. 

“It’s inconsequential. Have a good night, Miss Kanroji,” he said tersely and bowed his head. He headed towards his home. His shoulders hiked up. Today was taxing on everyone. 

“Night, Iguro-san,” the Love Hashira waved even though his back was turned. “I’ll send you a letter later.” She tapped a finger to her lips. He left abruptly. Had she said something to disturb him?

<><><><><><><><><>

Since the bachelorette party, Mitsuri had been dreaming of her past life. Three days, three dreams. One showed her a soba shop and the second showed her fighting Upper Moon Four and activating her demon slayer mark. The demon would have killed her had it not been for Tanjiro. She could not believe the man she met at Tengen’s Christmas party held such significance. 

Now, she learned the mark would have killed her before she was 25. None of them showed her what she truly wanted. What was her end? Did she die fighting Muzan? The last memory had faded to black. There was nothing past it. She brought her legs up to her chest. Beside her, Obanai was sleeping. His bangs hung lazily over his forehead and she had to fight herself from pushing them back. If she brought up they were reincarnated lovers, how would he react?

It could be better if they don’t remember. Shinobu suggested and Mitsuri was starting to agree. Since Shinobu confirmed her suspicions, Mitsuri’s sleep was interrupted. She’d never had difficulty falling asleep before. Mitsuri watched her lover sleep peacefully, his chest rising and falling steadily. Maybe it was better not to bring up their past lives.

Shinobu alluded to Obanai hating himself. In their other life, she knew next to nothing about his past. Mitsuri only knew his family gave him his scars. Her eyes followed the grooves from his mouth to his ears. Their lives ran parallel, so she assumed the circumstances of his scars were similar. It would be cruel to know he suffered the same wounds twice. 

She couldn’t tell him if it led to more suffering. Let alone if the news set back his recovery. He had been through enough in this lifetime. If he brought up the dreams or questioned their significance, she would tell him the truth. She hugged her legs tighter. Just as he promised to protect her, Mitsuri vowed to do the same. 

Obanai and Mitsuri lounged in her living room. Her head was resting on his lap. She was responding to emails on her phone while he read recent Nichirin reviews. The new tonkatsu sauce had mixed reviews. He would have to revise the recipe if this trend continued. 

“This week we’re going with your family to see the play and tomorrow you’re helping Sanemi with his vows, right?” Mitsuri looked up at him. Obanai invited her to join the Rengokus to see the noh play. The tickets were a gift for Kyojuro’s birthday. At the time, Obanai bought four and they had to buy two seats behind his family to bring her. 

“Yes and yes. Sanemi doesn’t want Kanae to show him up,” Obanai said. “He’s rather competitive if you haven’t noticed.”

“I might. He tried to fire me as maid of honor when I won Catan,” Mitsuri laid her phone on her stomach. “I think you’re the perfect person to help him. Though, Kanae’s vows are pretty great. You and Sanemi will have a tough time beating them.”

“Why? Did you use emojis or something?” Obanai asked jokingly. Mitsuri opened her mouth wide before kicking her feet excitedly. 

“No, but can you imagine how perfect that would be?” Mitsuri’s eyes sparkled in amusement. Why did he suggest these things? 

“You can’t use emojis for vows,” Obanai said. 

“That’s what you think,” she laughed with a mischievous smile. 

“If anyone could find a way to do it you would, Emoji-sensei,” he teased her. Mitsuri gasped before her body trembled from laughter. 

“You finally used my title,” his partner said. He leaned down and kissed her forehead while cupping her face. 

“Of course, Kanroji-sensei,” he bowed his head in reverence. She didn’t say anything in response. Her lips were partially opened as if she wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Was this one of the few times he left her speechless? It must be. He stroked her cheek and he could feel the heat rising from them. 

“How would you use emojis for vows?” He asked. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, however, it broke her out of her trance. 

“There’d have to be a projector or screen behind us,” Mitsuri started. “It’d have to be a PowerPoint that I could control and when I said certain words the emoji would pop up on screen. Like if I said something like… I love you to the moon and back. ” Mitsuri grabbed her phone and started typing. When she was done she showed him her screen with a set of emojis on it. 

Mitsuri:👁️🩷🫵🚀🌕🪂

“See? I love you to the moon and back, ” she said each word as she pointed to the corresponding image. “We could make it work!” Mitsuri exclaimed. 

Obanai shook his head. With her creativity, he should not have doubted her ability to incorporate emojis. “So then I would respond with,” he started typing on his phone.

Obanai: 👁️💜🫵👍🌕🧡☀️

“I love you like the moon loves the sun,” Mitsuri whispered as she translated the images. She snorted and met his gaze. “So, you’re the moon?” She asked. 

“In this instance, yes,” Obanai answered. In these moments, he could relax completely. Her head resting in his lap while discussing something as nonsensical as putting emojis in vows. He loved this. His head was clear and nothing restrained him from adoring her. They could be happy. 

The other night he dreamt about Mitsuri and him in a soba shop where he denied himself a future. More remnants of his old mindset. These dreams did not have to have meaning. The meaning was what he gave it. In this moment, the dreams peeled back years of denial, uncertainty, anxiety, and dissociation. Obanai’s goal was to be normal. Without wholly recognizing what normal was, he found himself longing for a domestic life with Mitsuri. 

The smell of cinnamon sugar and vanilla wafted through the air. A vision of her making French toast made him smile as he saw her dancing and snapping to the beat of a song. It had been the morning after he decided he didn’t want her to be with anyone except him. It was the moment Obanai realized he would make Mitsuri his. He licked his lips. 

“Do you remember when you asked if I had a dream?” He asked. Mitsuri nodded. He set his phone down on the couch armrest and bit the inside of his cheek. Despite the sinking feeling, he had to ask. Hopefully, this was not the other shoe dropping. “The other night I realized I never asked you, so what is your dream?” 

“Please don’t judge me, but it’s a bit traditional. I want to have a family,” Mitsuri answered and looked away as her cheeks tinted pink. “I loved being raised in a family with five siblings. We fought, but we loved each other by the end of the day. I want the same for my future family. I want to teach my kids about the world and find new ways to appreciate all its wonders through their eyes. Like I said, it's traditional, but it’s what I want.” She swallowed before glancing up again. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mitsuri said quickly, waving her hand in front of her face. “We’ve only been together for a few months. It’d be presumptuous to expect any type of commitment like that right now. Though, I got engaged after only eight months of dating, so I guess I’m not the best judge, obviously.” 

Her dream was simple like his own. The idea of marriage and children was still daunting and made his insides squirm, but looking at Mitsuri he knew it’d be worth it. His love was stronger than his fear of the unknown and uncertainty. They had been joking about emoji vows a moment ago and she specifically said, Us and We. He was not the only one envisioning a future together. Obanai ran a finger over one of her beauty marks. 

Be honest. You never got anywhere keeping your thoughts to yourself. 

“I’m not judging you. It’s a nice dream,” he began. “Ever since you asked me what my dream was last year, I’ve been trying to figure it out. You know I didn’t allow myself to want anything because I didn’t think I deserved to be happy.”

“You do though,” Mitsuri said. “You deserve to be happy more than anyone.” She reached up to stroke his cheek, her fingertips lingering on the scars. 

“I know that now. My dream is to be normal. I spent 28 years tormented, hating myself for things outside of my control, and allowing myself to be miserable. It kept me from being with you and planning a future. I don’t want my past to define my future.” He inhaled deeply. His whole body should be tense, but it was relaxed as he watched Mitsuri. Her brows drawn down and her eyes focused on him with a thoughtful expression. Each day that passed he found himself falling deeper. 

“It’s not presumptuous because I want a future with you,” he said. His heart lurched. Mitsuri’s bottom lip quivered. 

“Oba,” Mitsuri whispered and sat up to face him. Her hand laid on his thigh to maintain her balance as she leaned forward. All he could see were her light green eyes. “Do you really mean that?” She asked in earnest. She was giving him an escape route, but he didn’t need it with her beside him. 

“Yes,” Obanai said and before he could say anything else Mitsuri pushed him down on the cushions. Her body laid over his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her heart hammering in her chest. Her lips rested against his ear. 

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” Mitsuri murmured. 

“I have an idea,” Obanai said as he ran his hands up her sides to hold her closer. “I won’t let the past interfere with our future,” he confessed quietly. Her breath hitched for a second and her biceps flexed. It was another step up on the staircase and he was on the landing ready to open the door. With Mitsuri beside him, Obanai could walk into the sunlight. 

“Hey Sanemi, can you come to my office in ten minutes? Mr. Honda can’t make it to the meeting, so you’re filling in to meet the Genjis,” Masachika peeked into Sanemi’s office. Sanemi shot him a blank stare. It was Masachika’s job to entertain clients. It was Sanemi’s job to design structurally sound frameworks and buildings. These weren’t even his clients. 

“And if I said no?” Sanemi asked. Masachika’s mouth twisted. 

“It’ll take five minutes tops to debrief them on the potential plans for their property. You know it’s a formality. If you don’t then Mr. Tsugikuni will fire you,” Masachika answered. 

“Doubtful, they wouldn’t be able to find anyone with my experience,” he rubbed his face. Next year, there were designs to promote him to a team lead. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll come out in a bit,” he said begrudgingly. Masachika passed him a folder with Mr. Honda’s papers. Sanemi would look over them when he walked down. 

“Thanks!” Masachika said and shut the door. Sanemi crossed his arms while leaning back in his swivel chair and stared up at the ceiling. If he could work on his projects without the constant distractions, he would be able to get out on time to meet up with Obanai. 

His acting best man agreed to help him write his vows. Kanae had already written hers. She glided into his office with a gleam in her eye when she told him she was finished with them. Despite their playful banter around others when they were alone they were affectionate. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek while he read an article about beetles. With her attention to detail and way with words, her vows might make him cry. Damnit.

He was not going to be outdone by his future wife. If he cried, he would make her cry too. Marriage was a competition afterall, right? Sanemi knew he was not the most eloquent when it came to expressing himself. What else did he need to say other than he loved her? Wasn’t that enough? He pushed his rolling chair backwards and stood up to stare out the window. 

Words had never been his strong suit. Give him a math formula, engineering software, and complex physics problems and there would be no one to match him. His lip pulled back. Reciting poetry and flowery words were not in his arsenal. In high school, Obanai helped him write his papers when analyzing poetry, literature, and whatever else that wasn’t concrete. Therefore, Obanai was his go to person when he decided he needed help with his vows. 

In the last year, Sanemi noticed Obanai took more risks socially and personally. He smirked thinking of the short, bandaged teenager he met in high school. Obanai didn’t speak for the first few weeks and it pissed Sanemi off. He kept his head down, never meeting anyone’s eyes. When Sanemi observed Obanai he seemed pathetic and sickly. It took Sanemi mocking him about his weird eyes, bandages, and makeup for Obanai to finally speak. He remembered the way Obanai punched him and broke his nose on the first try. Sanemi welcomed the challenge and they would have brawled if the teacher had not stopped them. They were bitter, kindred souls. 

Afterwards they had detention together with resident asshat, Giyuu Tomioka. The hair on the back of his neck rose. That arrogant guy still got on his nerves. He acted as though he was better than everyone in the school. He never talked and saw others beneath him. There had been one time, Tomioka asked why Sanemi could not attend a weekend school trip. Sanemi’s family did not have the money to waste on frivolous trips especially after his father passed. It was up to Sanemi and his mother to earn money and prevent the bank from foreclosing on the house with all his siblings. Back in high school, 23,000 yen for a school trip was astronomical. Now, he didn’t bat an eye when Kanae told him the price of the flowers for the wedding. How the times have changed. 

Glancing at his watch, Sanemi scratched the back of his head and decided to head down to Masachika’s office. Usually, Sanemi couldn't care less about clients because their opinions were wrong. They were all about aesthetics as opposed to practicality. It was a load of crap and they could keep their ill informed opinions to themselves. This meeting was a formality and a pain in his ass. He grabbed the papers and glanced over them as he walked down the hallway. 

Most of the offices had glass windows to look in on the employees. It had been one of Sanemi’s demands to have an actual wall to prevent prying eyes from looking and interfering with his work. The address on the papers seemed familiar, but he could not place where he’d seen it before. The papers contained information on potential projects including a bank, recreational center, or a children’s hospital. In reality, none of the original concepts panned out. He paused and looked into his friend’s office and saw a couple. There was a tall man with light brown hair and light blue eyes. 

It was the woman that made Sanemi pause. She was petite with raven, silky hair and dark brown, almond shaped eyes. They were almost black. She had thin lips and there was no doubt she carried a resemblance to his best friend. That’s why the address seemed familiar. His nostrils flared when he saw her smiling and making nice with Masachika. He clenched his fist. This bitch. 

Before he could walk away, Masachika waved him in. Sanemi wasn’t sure if he would be able to contain himself. Masachika didn’t recognize the resemblance between Obanai and this woman. Masachika had only seen Obanai’s maskless once at his bachelor party. The lights were dimmed making it difficult to memorize Obanai’s scars and face. This woman helped cut open a young boy’s face and beat him senseless. His vision cut to his father, a giant who hit Sanemi many nights. It was either Sanemi, his mother, or his siblings. He chose himself to protect them. Sanemi unclenched his fist and gritted his teeth as he opened the door. 

“I’m glad you could join us,” Masachika smiled merrily. “I would like to introduce you to Kiwa and Taro Genji. This is Sanemi Shinazugawa, one of our engineers.” The dark haired man was unaware of the hatred festering in Sanemi’s chest. Sanemi held out his hand to the couple, squeezing harder than necessary with the handshake. Sanemi sat down beside Kiwa as Masachika discussed the property and future plans with it. Her husband was quiet. 

“I wish I had decided to sell the property years ago, but it was my father’s last gift. There’s many cherished memories there. My sisters and I loved running around the woods. We pretended to be magical girls,” she laughed. Fuck her. Sanemi’s eyes twitched. Did those cherished memories include taunting and tormenting a boy? He had to get out of here before he snapped. If he did he would definitely be fired. 

“I need to return to work,” Sanemi said abruptly and stood up. He slammed the door on his way out. 

When Sanemi got back to his office he was glad no one could look in. He took out his phone and pulled up his last text from Obanai. He asked Sanemi to tell him when he was coming over. Sanemi typed out a message and then erased it three times. He set his phone on his desk and took out a stress ball from his top drawer. 

His father was dead. Sanemi never had to live knowing he could potentially run into his abuser, but Obanai did. In high school, Obanai tried to hide his panic when they walked past teenage girls with dark hair and eyes. He had no knowledge of where his cousin went after the fire, so it was possible she was still in the city. Later on, Obanai looked her up on social media and found out she went to college in Hokkaido, so he relaxed a fraction. 

After Sanemi’s father died, Obanai shared the incident with his mother and cousins, slashing his face and his escape. His eyes were haunted by ghosts and phantoms and his hands shook recounting the tale. Back then, they expressed their feelings by brawling, getting high, and breaking glass and whatever they could get their hands on. Now, Kiwa showed up after 15 years. With all the progress Obanai made in the past few months, if he saw his cousin she could send him into a spiral. 

No way in fucking Hell. Sanemi threw the stress ball at the wall. He picked up his phone again and sent Obanai a quick message that he was leaving work early and he’d be at his house in 30 minutes. 

Sanemi sat down at his desk and let his boss know he was leaving and he would come into work early tomorrow to make up for it. He logged out and packed up his bag before locking up his office. He strode down the secluded hall and took a right towards the emergency exit near the bathrooms. 

Click. One of the bathroom doors opened and Kiwa walked out. She gave him a polite smile. “Leaving for the day already? I thought you left to finish your work,” she teased him. It was meant to be lighthearted, but it was laced with malice. Sanemi turned to face her and glared.

“Shut up. I know what you did,” Sanemi growled. Kiwa tilted her head in question and took a step back into the wall.

“Excuse me?” The woman asked. 

“I know what you did to your cousin,” Sanemi spat. For a brief second, her eyes widened before she took a deep breath, unfazed by the accusation. 

“Sorry? I don’t have a cousin,” Kiwa lied. Sanemi hit the wall next to her head and leaned down. He cocked his head to the left and gave her a crooked smile to set her at unease. His mother would be disappointed with how he was treating her, but this woman was a special case. No one touched his friends. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I hate liars and abusers,” he snarled. “Does your husband know?” She glared at him. Despite her small size, she was not intimidated by him. Kiwa straightened her shoulders. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Shinazugawa,” she glared at him. “You’re making vile accusations against me without proof.”

“He doesn’t, does he? He just has to meet Obanai to know the truth,” Sanemi scoffed and brought his hand down to his side. Based on her facial expression, she recognized his name. “Stay away from Obanai. If I hear about you trying to see him, I will tell your husband. Do you think he’ll stay with a woman who abused and cut open a boy’s mouth for existing?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kiwa tried to deny it, but bared her teeth. Sanemi tightened his fist again and his nails dug into his palm. His blood boiled just looking at her. Even after all these years she didn’t give a fuck about Obanai or what she and her family did. 

“You better hope I never see you again,” Sanemi said and turned away. He needed to get out of here before he unleashed a whirlwind of fury. 

Sanemi: Be there in 30

Sanemi’s text was brief and left Obanai wondering why he got off early. Obanai had not expected to see Sanemi until 4 P.M. He was in the middle of vacuuming. Instead of being thorough, he sped through vacuuming his bedroom and Kaburamaru’s room. 

Mitsuri went to the work this morning in preparation for the beginning of the school year. She spent last night at her house because she had to be up early. When he woke up this morning he was in a daze and reached out to her side of the bed only to find it empty. This summer he had been spoiled and he would have to get used to sleeping alone again when school officially started. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail with one of the ouchless hair ties Mitsuri gifted him. Over the past two months, he would find her accessories around his house. They were a gentle reminder of her presence. 

His whole body seemed lighter after their conversation yesterday. He admitted to wanting a future with her. It was almost too good to be true to think she wanted him with all his baggage and bullshit. It was his anxiety attempting to undermine his thoughts and future. When was the other shoe going to drop? 

Mitsuri wouldn’t lie. He reminded himself. 

Earlier he placed Kaburamaru on the living room windowsill to soak up the sun. Obanai walked back to the window and draped Kaburamaru over his shoulders. The snake looked at him lazily before resting his head down. Obanai heard Sanemi’s heavy steps and headed towards the front door. Sanemi twisted the knob only to find it locked before he knocked loudly. Obanai rolled his eyes at the man’s impatience and opened the door without a mask or covering his face. It was another way to get comfortable showing his face in public. 

Sanemi’s hair looked like he had been running his hand over it multiple times. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the veins in his forearms were prominent. His purple eyes burned and he had a feral look. What set him off? 

“You look like you’re about to stab someone,” Obanai said, stepping to the side. “Should I grab my knives?” Sanemi walked through and took his shoes off. 

“I wanted to,” Sanemi said. Obanai’s eyes narrowed. 

“Did they deserve it?” Obanai asked. Sanemi’s jaw tensed as he grinded his teeth together. This person must have really pissed him off and the reason Sanemi left work early. He had not seen Sanemi this angry in a long time. The last time it was directed towards one of his sister’s ex-boyfriends who hit her during an argument. He had actually gone to the ex’s house and threatened to skin him alive if he ever looked at his sister again. 

“Yes,” Sanemi answered gruffly and marched towards the living room. Kaburamaru lifted his head and observed Sanemi. His friend threw his bag onto the couch and started pacing in front of the window. “I shouldn’t tell you. It’d be better to leave you ignorant,” Sanemi said in a lowered voice. 

“Ignorant? Now you have to tell me,” Obanai’s tone dropped. Sanemi never lied to him or beat around the bush. Who the fuck did he see? Was it Douma? He bared his teeth at the thought of the creepy fucker. The last time he saw Douma he flirted shamelessly with Mitsuri. It was before they were together, but envy hooked around his heart and tugged. Sanemi stopped pacing and finally made eye contact. 

“Kiwa,” Sanemi answered. Kiwa? Obanai’s stomach dropped. “Your cousin. She’s here to sell the property,” Sanemi said. Obanai shook his head. Kaburamaru tensed and hissed sharply. 

Obanai looked her up periodically. The last time he did he found out she got married and worked as a social worker in Hokkaido. Kiwa was almost 1600 kilometers away. During high school he would always look over his shoulder in fear of accidentally running into her. He didn’t hear where she went after she was put in the ambulance as she screamed profanities. He swallowed. Was this the other shoe finally dropping? 

“She’s in Hokkaido,” Obanai said in disbelief. However, Sanemi would not lie about seeing her. Masachika mentioned a couple coming in this week to sell family property. It had been over 15 years since they visited. Sanemi told him last month his company tried to buy the land, but the owner refused. Acid edged his esophagus and Obanai covered his mouth. He should have been able to make the connection and predicted this. Why was she selling it now?

“No, she’s here. Masachika introduced us, but he had no idea who she was,” Sanemi ran a hand through his hair. Kaburamaru’s scales brushed against his neck and flicked his tail. He was looking for an enemy that wasn’t here. 

Kiwa is here. He looked down at his glass coffee table. He listed off the items on the surface to prevent himself from disassociating. There was a tissue box, tv remotes, two coasters, Mitsuri’s pink pens, and a notebook. He waited for the panic to set in, but it didn’t. His pulse did not quicken. The acid at the back of his throat was beginning to settle. The initial shock was wearing off. He suspected he would feel his chest tightening making it difficult to breathe, the desire to run, and nausea. It didn’t happen. Obanai exhaled deeply and shut his eyes. 

“When I was leaving I met her in the hallway. I told her to stay away from you and threatened to tell her husband if she tried to contact you,” Sanemi continued. Obanai nodded. 

Besides the initial shock, he felt nothing towards Kiwa. No bitterness or ill will. He recalled the girl spitting venom and cursing his name for killing their family. At the time he internalized her hatred and made it his own. Guilt and shame followed him wherever he went. When he went to the property and told his mother and cousins goodbye, he meant it. They no longer influenced his future. Their ashen hands did not hook into his clothes and skin to drag him towards Hell, nor did Kiwa’s last words. 

It should have been you! She screamed as she pushed him to the ground. It wasn’t true. He deserved to live. It was a travesty, but there was nothing that could be done. 

“I wondered what I would do if I ever saw her again,” Obanai said, opening his eyes. He stroked Kaburamaru’s head in order to quell the snake’s anger. “Originally, I would have run. She probably still blames me for their deaths,” Obanai admitted. Sanemi raised one of his nearly invisible eyebrows. “What would be the point in seeing her?” He sat down on the couch.

“None,” Sanemi said, crossing his arms. He was fiercely protective of his friends and family. 

“Kiwa moved on. She got married and now she’s selling the land. Other than what I put on myself, she’s had no impact on my life in 16 years,” Obanai said as Kaburamaru loosened his hold and slithered down to Obanai’s lap. The weight of the snake grounded him. He looked down at the snake and stroked his spine. “I don’t want to rehash the past.” The past could fade into obscurity along with his cousin.  

They were quiet. Sanemi returned to pacing while Obanai absorbed the information. Once before he believed Kiwa was his only blood relative. Now he knew about Akira and his half sister, Mimi. Akira said they wanted to get to know him. They had no ill will towards him. Akira felt guilt, but Mimi seemed genuinely interested. Part of him was curious about the Fujihara family. Maybe once the wedding was over, he would reach out. 

“If she planned on meeting, she would have contacted me already,” Obanai reasoned with a sigh. “You’re here to write your vows,” he said, redirecting the conversation. Sanemi grunted with a nod. 

“What have you written so far?” He asked. 

“Nothing,” Sanemi said and opened up his bag to pull out a notebook. He sat on the couch beside his friend. Kaburamaru flicked out his tongue once in a show of disappointment. 

“Now it’s just like high school. I’ll keep a copy in case you lose it,” Obanai said as Sanemi rolled his eyes. Some things never changed. 

Mitsuri got into the front seat of her Beetle before she pulled out her phone. Obanai asked her to call him when she finished her meetings. Most of the meetings discussed new teaching methods and how to cultivate a child’s natural talents and interests. It was Mitsuri’s preferred teaching style. She could not focus on the presenters as her mind drifted back to her conversation with Obanai. 

I want a future with you. 

Time stood still. Her heart thudded against her chest and the buzzing grew louder. She had not thought it could get any louder. When was he going to stop surprising her? He did not shy away from the conversation after asking her what her dream was. Her other partners would bypass the conversation. Kyo told her his dream was to marry and raise a family. He lied. It had been another way to manipulate her. 

I won’t let the past interfere with our future. 

His desire to leave the past behind reinforced her decision to keep her revelation to herself. Whatever happened in their previous life, they could be happy in this life. Mitsuri could carry this burden by herself. Shinobu kept her silence for years. Mitsuri would do the same and at least now Shinobu and her had each other to rely on. She brought up Obanai’s contact info and pressed the call button. Obanai answered on the second ring. 

“Hey, I just got out,” Mitsuri said as she turned the key to start her car. She put her phone on speaker and put her car in reverse. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Sanemi came over and told me something,” he said and she heard the sound of the faucet running. He must be washing dishes or something. “My cousin is in town to sell the family property.” Mitsuri hit the brake and put her car back in park. 

“Are you doing okay?” Mitsuri asked as her mouth went dry. His cousin cursed him and blamed him for their family’s death. Did he want to meet her or avoid her? Hopefully, this didn’t set him back. She heard the faucet turn off and the clinking of plates as Obanai moved them to the drying rack. 

“Yeah, I’m doing alright,” her partner answered. “It’s been 16 years since I saw her. We’re different people and it’s not as though she ever tried to contact me since the incident. I wanted to let you know in case I seem distracted.”

“Are you sure?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” Obanai said, “I’m sure. It was a shock to hear she was here, but we’re strangers now. When I went back, I said goodbye to my family, including Kiwa.” Mitsuri bit her bottom lip. 

“Do you want to come over? I have to feed Sushi and prep for tomorrow, so I can’t go over to your place,” Mitsuri offered. “I don’t want you to be alone.” There was a short pause before Obanai agreed to come over.

A few days later, Mitsuri stood in line beside Obanai and his family. The theater was on the other side of town. Obanai and her drove separately from the Rengokus. Shinjuro stood with his arms crossed as Kyojuro talked animatedly about the different costumes designs and masks noh incorporated. Senjuro stood on Mitsuri’s other side, glancing at the crowd behind them. It was nearly their turn to give the attendant their tickets. Obanai and her would be sitting in the row behind his family. 

“This is your first time seeing a noh play, right?” Senjuro piped up as Kyojuro finally took a breath. 

“Yes, I’ve seen clips, but I’ve never been to one,” Mitsuri peered over at the youngest brother. He was soft spoken, but nearly everyone was compared to Kyojuro. “I was more interested in dancing than theater. Not that I’m not excited about seeing Tamayo .” Kyojuro shot her a look. 

“Tomoe,” Kyojuro corrected her. 

“Sorry when I get nervous, I forget things like names, places, and things,” Mitsuri looked down at the gum on the sidewalk. She should have known that since the title was on her ticket. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” her partner reassured her as he squeezed her hand. He wore a black mask tonight, but his eyes closed ever so slightly to indicate he was smiling. Tonight he dressed up in black slacks, grey button up, and a teal tie. Mitsuri decided to wear a teal dress with a low to high skirt. The edges of the skirt were trimmed with seashells and seahorses. When they were getting ready she squealed when he walked out of the bathroom wearing the tie. He told her he bought it to match her dress. Now he had two colorful pieces of clothing, his navy sweater and a teal tie. 

“This is Kyojuro’s special interest, so don’t take anything he says offensively,” he explained and then threw a pointed look at Kyojuro. 

“It’s okay,” Mitsuri said and lifted her head to see Kyojuro watching her and Obanai with an approving nod. His red-yellow eyes seemed like a welcoming hearth. He was the type of person she trusted instinctively. The firefighter shifted his attention to Shinjuro, but she could still feel a piercing gaze on her and Obanai. 

The well lit stage had several musicians on it. They carried three separate types of drums. One at the hip, another on the shoulder, and the last one rested on the floor, which the man stuck with a stick. The last musician played the flute. Beside them, there was another man who acted as the narrator and next to him was the chorus. 

According to Kyojuro, most of noh plays were based on classical Japanese literature and historical periods. He adored the story telling method because it relied heavily on the details of the masks and costumes to display tone and emotion. They were quite elaborate compared to the set. The only decoration on stage was a painted tree and mountain in the background otherwise it was empty. 

Tomoe began with a Buddhist monk encountering a woman on his way to Kyoto. She cried in front of a shrine dedicated to Kiso Yoshinaka, who was a warlord from Kiso. The woman asked the monk to pay his respect to the warlord and then disappeared after she revealed she was a ghost. 

Then the monk met a villager who tells the story of Yoshinaka Kiso and Lady Tomoe. They were lovers who fought beside each other before the warlord’s death. The monk believes he met the ghost of Lady Tomoe. Later that night, he prays in front of the shrine. Lady Tomoe appears before the monk in her armor and she begins to recount the last time she saw her commander. 

“My general ordered me to leave the battlefield,” the chorus said as the noh actress danced across the stage as if fleeing from the field. “Oh bitterness. Because I was a woman, I was ordered to leave.” Their voices rose as the drums beat quicker. Mitsuri took in everything. 

“I should have been with him,” the chorus spoke for the warrior woman clad in a grey and blue kimono. Her pure white mask displayed a sorrowful look with painted black brow and her lips drawn in a thin line. The ghost lamented, bowing her head in defeat. “He was mortally wounded that day. I could have saved him if I had been there.” The drums slowed. 

Mitsuri leaned forward, enthralled by the music and words. A shiver ran down her back empathizing with the warrior. Tomoe wanted to fight alongside her lover. It was admirable and heartbreaking. Though the mask hid the actress’s face, Mitsuri noticed the way her posture stiffened and shook her head, refusing to believe her lover died. Was it better to leave or to stay knowing there was only certain death waiting on the battlefield? 

She bit her lip. If she were Tomoe, she would have felt the same way. Her heart ached thinking of the play’s lovers. Both well intended and meant to protect the other, but they lost in the end. If Tomoe followed his orders they could not spend their last moments together. Tomoe would be forced to live out her days wondering if she could have saved him and resented her inability to protect her lover. Yoshinaka knew going into battle he would die and he sent her away, not because she was a woman, but because he thought he could save her from death. Except what was life without love? Her chest tightened. 

Something touched her face, breaking her concentration. She turned towards the sensation. Obanai held a tissue to her right eye and watched her with a concerned look. Mitsuri had not realized she had been crying. 

“Thanks,” she mouthed, taking the tissue and dabbing her other eye. She looked back at the stage. Obanai rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in quiet comfort. If this had been them, Mitsuri would have wanted to die fighting beside him. Her heart thudded in her chest while dread filled her. Her throat constricted. It had been them. 

In her memories, she had fought beside him against demons. Months ago she dreamt about fighting a deranged white haired monster. Obanai carried her to the outskirts of the battle after the demon wounded her left arm and ear. In the dream, he consoled her and asked for the attendant to dress her wounds. Her stomach dropped. She returned to the fight only to lose her sword and use her arms to rip off the Demon King’s tentacles before her vision faded to nothing. 

Why was she imagining this? Why now? 

Mitsuri blinked several times to clear away the horrifying memory. She clenched her hands so tightly they felt numb and tingly. Her body trembled. 

“Mitsuri?” Obanai whispered. She turned her head to meet his gaze. Except she saw three slashes running across his face, slicing through his sweet eyes. 

No.

No.

No. 

There was more to their past lives. She rubbed her eyes and his face was back to normal. His eyebrows were drawn and he grasped her hand. 

“Do you want to leave?” He whispered. 

“No, I want to see their end,” she whispered back. If she couldn’t know her end, she could at least know Tomoe’s. The rest of the play was dedicated to Tomoe speaking of her commander’s last moments. Tomoe disobeyed Yoshinaka and returned to his side. She found him wounded and to save his honor, she encouraged him to commit seppuku and she would follow soon after.

Yoshinaka said he would not never forgive her for killing herself and would hold a grudge against her in this life and the next. The enemy surrounded them and Tomoe drew her sword. They underestimated her and Tomoe slayed them. When she returned to her lord, she found him dead. In her grief, she took his short sword, amulet, and kimono. Tomoe left and lived out her days filled with overwhelming guilt and resentment towards Yoshinaka, her lover and commander. 

Mitsuri empathized deeply with Tomoe and her desire to stay beside Yoshinaka. However, he’d wanted to save her. Her vision flooded with the last memory where Obanai carried her away from the battle with Muzan. Was Obanai trying to save her when he asked the kakushi to tend to her wounds? His eyes watched her so gently before he parted. Obanai knew he would die as he left her struggling against the kakushi as she screamed at him not to die. 

You knew. Her head began to ache and her heart shattered like a crystal candy bowl. You knew.

Is this what Shinobu meant about feeling the weight of two lifetimes crushing her?

Mitsuri hiccupped and found herself unable to control her tears. She used the tissue to dry them. Finally, she looked back at Obanai. Her chest tightened. His gold and teal eyes steadied her, pulling her back into the present. 

“What did you think of it?” Kyojuro asked. Mitsuri turned her attention to him. Upon seeing her tear stained face, Kyojuro’s smile fell. A torrent of emotions flooded her senses. 

“It was amazing. I can see why you love noh,” Mitsuri replied, her voice cracking. She attempted to smile, but failed. “Tomoe went through so much. She wanted to be beside Yoshinaka until their end, but he sent her away for her own protection. It’s heartbreaking,” Mitsuri said.  

“Exactly! They loved each other deeply, but the ways they wanted to protect each other differed. Yoshinaka valued her life over his and Tomoe valued their love,” Kyojuro explained. Senjuro turned his head and Mitsuri could see his tears. He was the most sensitive of the brothers. Kyojuro talked about the differences he noticed between this play and one he saw online as they exited the theater. Obanai was quiet, allowing his younger brother to speak about his passion.

Eventually, they departed from the Rengokus. They walked back to his Jeep in silence. The summer humidity felt muggy, making her dress cling to her body. Mitsuri climbed into the passenger seat as Obanai put the key into the ignition and turned on the car. He pressed a few buttons to start the air conditioner.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he pulled off his mask. She could barely see his face as the only light they had was a poorly lit street lamp. He put on his blinker to pull out of his parking spot. “I know the play was emotional, but you started shaking like you were scared. It worried me.” 

He reached across the console to hold her hand. His hand was surprisingly cool. She wasn’t going to tell him the parallels between the play and their past lives. Every fiber of her being wanted to tell him, but she told herself she could carry this burden alone. 

“You always say I can tell you anything, Mitsuri. It goes both ways. If something is bothering you, you can tell me whatever it is,” he said when she was quiet. Gods, she loved him. 

“It was the play. I imagined what we would have done in their places,” Mitsuri said, her voice shaking. A partial truth. “If I had been Tomoe, I would have wanted to fight beside you. I wouldn’t want us to die separated and alone.” 

“I won’t lie. If I was Yoshinaka, I would have sent you away. It’s selfish, but I would want you to live no matter what happened to me. You’re too good to die,” Obanai replied. He’d said as much in the past. 

“If you fought beside me, I would never let you die alone. I’d find you even if I had to crawl,” he explained. He glanced at her as he pulled up to a stoplight. She shifted in the seat. The red light shone on his face. 

“But we aren’t them. I will never let anything happen to you,” he said with finality. His gaze steadied her and her heart lightened with his earnest words. The light turned green and his eyes returned to the road. The air whistled through the car’s vents. Mitsuri squeezed his hand. 

“Do you promise?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Yes, I promise,” he agreed. The red string around their wrists pulled tighter with his promise. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Someone was moving her. Her body felt heavy as if a ton of lead was attached to each of her limbs. Though she tried to move, her body didn’t listen to her. Besides the heaviness, there was the absence of sensation in her arms. There was no pain. A soft mournful hiss played in her right ear. 

“Ah, Kaburamaru,” she whispered. Mitsuri opened her eyes to find the snake crying. He draped over his master’s shoulders as normal. She had a hard time focusing as her eyes drifted up to the Snake Hashira’s face. “Iguro-san… we won?”

His grip on her tightened over her torso. Under the scent of blood and dirt, she smelled pine trees. Faintly, but it was there giving her a sense of security. She was safe in his arms. Her lighthouse. He wrapped her in his pinstripe haori, the well worn fabric rubbed against her neck. Obanai was alive. 

“Yeah, we won. Muzan’s dead,” Obanai said through clenched teeth. 

“That’s good. I don’t feel any pain, I think I’ll die soon,” she said. Obanai bent his head and she wished she could see his gentle eyes one last time. Or hold him. Just one last time. As much as she willed it her arms would not listen. She wished to cup his face, but she was denied. 

“I’m probably going to die soon too. You’re not alone,” he tried to console her. She blinked and her vision finally focused enough to see his unbandaged face. Three gashes graced his face along with old scars at the corners of his mouth. They ran across his eyes and nose, making his whole face swell. Despite the wounds and old scars, she was glad. The scars did not detract from his appearance. She finally saw his whole face and he was rather handsome. 

“I don’t want you to die, Iguro-san,” she responded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough help.” 

I didn’t do anything. All I did was distract the others. Everyone tried saving me. Tanjiro, Obanai, Giyuu, Sanemi, and Gyomei fought while I was useless. I always wondered if it was okay for a girl to be strong and fight. Now I know. I’m nothing more than a foolish girl who thought she could fight. At least Shinobu killed Upper Moon Two.

Tears welled in her eyes. If only she’d been more help fighting Muzan, maybe then Obanai could have lived. Now he was here holding her. What a sorry excuse for him to spend his last moments with a fool like her. Obanai brought his cheek to her forehead, forcing the self defeating thoughts to dissipate. Mitsuri pressed into his face, at least her neck would listen. 

“That’s not true. I’m begging you, don’t talk like that,” Obanai said in his raspy voice. His dark hair tickled her face. Don’t diminish yourself, he told her. Even to their last breath he gave her words of wisdom and encouragement. Ever since they met, he spoke kindly to her. It was part of the reason she loved him. 

“Do you remember the day we met?” Mitsuri asked weakly and closed her eyes. The sakura trees blossomed, scattering the pink petals everywhere. She had a meeting with the Master about her new role as a Hashira, but she could not remember the way. 

“Yeah,” he answered. Her body trembled and Obanai attempted to stop it. She couldn’t feel her feet and legs anymore. 

“Iguro-san, I was lost in the master’s house,” she coughed. “And you saved me.” She smiled at the memory. 

After wandering the halls for a third time, Mitsuri found a man with dark hair and heterochromic eyes to show her. She rambled about her family and their cats. He was quiet and wished her well. As they parted, he told her his name, Iguro Obanai, the Snake Hashira and the man who saved her in more ways than one. She wished she could have taken his name. Not in this life. 

“No, it was the opposite,” he countered and lifted his head. “When I met you that day, you were a very normal girl, so you actually saved me,” he confessed. 

Huh? Her eyes snapped open and she watched his face. His lips were thin. His brows relaxed the more he spoke. 

“You got excited over the smallest things. Your smile was as clear as day,” he smiled. She blinked away the tears as her throat constricted. A mixture of anguish, glee, and astonishment settled in her chest. “You must have gone through the most hellish training before you became a pillar. Yet, you didn’t radiate any of that in the slightest,” he bowed his head. She saw tears form. Obanai never cried in front of her. 

“I had a lot of fun talking to you. It felt like I was a normal young man and that made me happy. I’m sure others felt the same,” he said. 

You made me happy too. You accepted me as I was. Mitsuri’s body ached to reach up and dry his eyes. She wished she could take away all his pain. She wanted to see him smile that special smile where his eyes crinkled and his eyelids closed a fraction- It was no longer possible with the three slashes over his face. 

“The kindness inside you was infinite, so you’ve healed many people’s hearts. Hold your head high,” Obanai leaned his cheek to her forehead again. Her eyes widened. 

Everything paused as she recalled the times she questioned whether or not their feelings were mutual. He went to Tsukimi festival alone with her and gave her his haori. He gave her the green socks she wore every day. He paid for her meals. He wrote her well crafted letters filled with haikus. Then he came to her directly after Master Rengoku’s death and held her on her kitchen floor. Just like now… She swallowed. 

He loves me. 

“I won’t let anyone complain about you,” he whispered. She hiccupped, no longer able to hold the tears back. Even though she was about to pass on, she was happy. The man she loved with her whole heart loved her too. 

“I’m so happy,” Mitsuri sniffled. “I-I really love you, Obanai!” She cried as her breaths began to stagger. There, she finally said it. Along with his first name. “Meals always tasted the best with you,” she inhaled sharply. “Because you always looked at me with so much affection!” 

Mitsuri missed his eyes more than anything else. It was the only way she could read his emotions. The calm and affectionate expression he wore when they visited the soba shop. His eyes closed slowly like a cat’s to indicate he was smiling. Liquid gold and teal blue. Now his eyes were shut forever. The last time she saw them, he told her she’d done enough. She sucked in another breath.

“Iguro-san, Iguro-san, please,” she cried. She didn’t have much longer. “If we’re ever reborn-If we’re ever reborn as humans, will you make me your wife?” He froze as he processed her question. 

“Please, Oba,” she pleaded. They couldn’t be together in this life, but in the next they might have a chance. Even if she was reborn as a cat or snake and he was reborn as a human she still wanted to be near him. He adjusted his hold and propped her up. 

“Yes, of course, if you agree to have someone like me,” Obanai agreed and hugged her tighter. She leaned her head into him as he pressed his cheek against her. All she wanted was to be loved by someone unconditionally and she only knew she had it all along with Obanai. 

“Always,” she breathed, “It’s always been you.” Her arms failed to listen to her. She couldn’t even reach up to touch him one last time. For the longest time, she believed her strength was a detriment, but it let her fight alongside her friends and protect the ones she loved. 

“And this time I will definitely make you happy,” he nuzzled his cheek against her forehead. “And protect you so you don’t die.” 

Mitsuri clenched her teeth as she tried to control her breathing. Total concentration breathing would do little to help her. She told him once she wanted him to attend her wedding without telling him she wanted him as her groom. What if she had told him while they were sitting in the tree last spring? Would he have pulled down his bandages and kissed her like she wished?

“Could you kiss me?” Mitsuri asked hesitantly. Her breathing grew uneven. 

“Yes,” he whispered. She could hardly feel anything now. He brought one of his hands to her face to trace her lips with his thumb. She shivered in anticipation as he leaned in. Lips brushed and she could taste his tears. Misery and salt. 

“Next time, I’ll have the courage to tell you how I feel,” Obanai murmured and she smiled against his lips. He gripped her tighter waiting to take their last breaths. 

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Mitsuri promised, her voice barely above a whisper. Before the hands of death took her, she envisioned Obanai and herself standing on a platform. Her face was bright red and he watched her with his calm eyes. There was no doubt in her mind they’d see each other again. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Iron, dirt, blood. It was all Obanai could smell after Muzan perished. There was crying, screaming, and the sound of debris hitting the ground. His body was haggard having been poisoned, beaten, mauled, cut into by the Demon King. His internal injuries would kill him. Adrenaline was the only reason he was still walking. All he could think about was Mitsuri. He hoped she was alive. She had rejoined the fight after he told her she’d done enough. He loved her, but she was too damned stubborn. 

“Find Mitsuri,” he murmured to his oldest friend. He didn’t want her to die alone. He felt the snake turn and direct him towards the next street over. Obanai followed the directions until the snake hissed. Her breaths were shallow as he approached. 

All he wanted to do was hold her one last time before he died. In his last hour he was going to be selfish. He hated himself for succumbing to the greed that plagued his family. His blood would be purified after he died. Blood poured down from the three slashes across his face and the old scars his family gave him. Melding together on an already disgusting face. His eternal damnation reflected in the wounds and scars. He had never wanted Mitsuri to see him, worried he would frighten her. Now though, at the end of everything it mattered little. 

He knelt down beside her and reached out for her hand. There was nothing. He couldn’t breathe as he realized her arms were gone. His lungs were being squeezed and his insides swirled. Nausea crashed around him with the metallic scent of blood. 

He took off his black and white haori before he picked her torso up and put it around her frame. She had to be cold. One arm wrapped around her back and the other around her front to hold her against his chest. He placed one bent knee under her legs. They were bound to die. She should have survived. Why did she have to return to the fight? Obanai bit the inside of his cheek. His blood tasted metallic.

“Ah, Kaburamaru,” she whispered. The snake cried, he could sense it. His friend had been crying after Mitsuri ordered him not to die. I’m sorry. I was meant to die, so I could be reborn and exchange this filthy, disgusting body for a new one. A body free from sin and the tainted Iguro bloodline. Someone who could be worthy of you. His hands gripped her tighter. “Iguro-san… we won?” 

“Yeah, we won. Muzan’s dead,” he gritted his teeth. The snake repositioned himself and curved his head towards the Love Hashira. She should be alive. Out of all the hashira, she deserved to live. She had her parents and siblings waiting for her. Them and the man she wished to marry.

The man she loved. His insides turned. He never knew for certain who she loved. She had never named him. Kanroji wanted to marry the man after Muzan died. Now, it would never happen. He wondered if the man knew? He clenched his jaw. For her sake, the love she loved should have been holding her now. She would be happier with anyone other than a monstrous serpent, but that man wasn’t here. 

“That’s good. I don’t feel any pain, I think I’ll die soon,” she said weakly. Obanai bent his head wishing he could see her one last time. The last time he saw her, her face was red from crying. For all the times he cursed his vision, he wished he could see her again even if it was through his nearly blind eye. Just a glimpse would be enough to see him through Hell.

“I’m probably going to die soon too. You’re not alone,” he tried to console her. Her head turned towards him looking up at his ruined face. It would be the first and last time she ever saw his grotesque scarred face. He never wanted to scare her. If only he had been stronger, faster, smarter. Maybe then she could have lived. Bile rose in his throat. 

“I don’t want you to die, Iguro-san,” she responded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough help.” He pressed his cheek to her forehead. Warm, sticky blood seeped from her hairline. 

“That’s not true. I’m begging you, don’t talk like that,” his voice raspy. He couldn’t let her last words and memories be self defeating. She was better than this. Better than him. Maybe he’d be good enough to stand beside her in another life. To know her would be enough. 

“Do you remember the day we met?” Mitsuri asked, her voice weaker. He relived that moment nearly everyday. It was the day he first thought a woman could be beautiful. He’d been enchanted by her bubbly voice and lighthearted conversation. The first time he fell in love with her. Every day after his love for her grew because of her light. 

“Yeah,” he answered. He felt her body convulse and he tried to hold her still. His haori was soaked in their blood now. 

“Iguro-san, I was lost in the master’s house,” she paused to cough. “And you saved me.”

“No, it was the opposite,” he said and lifted his head. It was now or never he told himself. This was to be their last conversation. “When I met you that day, you were a very normal girl, so you actually saved me,” he confessed. 

Everything he ever thought about her he could finally say. His impending death freed him from the prison he held himself in. He never left the cage, he realized, because he had never been truthful to himself or her. She should know she was beloved even by a man from a piece of shit family. He wasn’t who she wanted, but if it could bring her some peace, it’d be worth it.  

“You got excited over the smallest things. Your smile was as clear as day,” he smiled remembering her wide grin, closed eyes, and braided pink and green hair. She was gorgeous. Her soul shining behind spring green eyes like a beacon. Nothing could dim her brightness. 

“You must have gone through the most hellish training before you became a pillar. Yet, you didn’t radiate any of that in the slightest,” he bowed his head. Tears began to form at the corners of his eyelids. Pain rippled over the wounds as he continued speaking. He had to tell her. 

“I had a lot of fun talking to you. It felt like I was a normal young man and that made me happy. I’m sure others felt the same,” he said. He recalled Mitsuri standing with Kyojuro, Tokito, and Shinobu where they smiled and laughed. He had been leaning against a wooden beam, waiting on her to walk to a new restaurant. When she turned to look at him, her eyes crinkled and she waved her hand above her head. Being with her made life worth living.

“The kindness inside you was infinite, so you’ve healed many people’s hearts. Hold your head high,” Obanai leaned his cheek to her forehead again. He didn’t want her to see him cry. 

“I won’t let anyone complain about you,” he whispered. If only he had told her before this. The letter he wrote her before this battle. She would never read it. His chest ached. She would never be able to marry the man she loved. She should have stayed safe for him. The man she loved should be here with Mitsuri in her last moments, not the piece of shit he was. He felt her hiccup. 

“I’m so happy,” Mitsuri sniffled. Tears poured from her eyes. “I-I really love you, Obanai!” She cried between staggered breaths. She-what? His heart sank to his stomach.

“Meals always tasted the best with you,” she inhaled sharply. “Because you always looked at me with so much affection!” No, she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly. He wasn’t worth it. It was only because she was dying. She wanted someone else. He held her tighter. 

“Iguro-san, Iguro-san, please,” she coughed. “If we’re ever reborn-If we’re ever reborn as humans, will you make me your wife?” 

Dizziness and nausea waved over him. Pain radiated from his temple to his frontal lobe. There was no way she could mean it. “Please, Oba,” she pleaded, using his nickname like a soft caress. He adjusted his hold and propped her up. 

“Yes, of course, if you agree to have someone like me,” she lifted her head towards him and her body shook. 

“Always,” she breathed, “It’s always been you.” She meant every word and he felt sicker. Every instant they discussed the man she loved and wanted to marry… Mitsuri meant him. He had been too blind, too ashamed, and too guilty to realize it. He only found out the truth when he was blinded. The universe had a wicked sense of humor. 

Every instance where he imagined the man Mitsuri loved he had seen a shadowy figure. The one she described as patient, handsome, and thoughtful. Mitsuri meant him, a serious, disfigured, and selfish beast. Yet, in these last moments, he knew she could not be lying. Only Mitsuri would be able to see him as a man worthy of her affections, but she saw everyone she met in a positive light. He was no exception. He choked and the tears fell down his face, not caring if she saw. 

“And this time I will definitely make you happy,” he rubbed his cheek against her forehead. His dirty blood smeared across her face. “And protect you so you don’t die.” They would not last much longer. 

They grieved for what could have been had they been more forthcoming. Months ago he admitted to himself he wanted to live with her and be happy. It was a simple dream, but one he craved. He gritted his teeth. The worst part was the tragedy of knowing they could have been happy together.

“Could you kiss me?” Mitsuri asked hesitantly. Her breathing grew uneven. 

“Yes,” he whispered. Her body was growing colder. He lifted one of his hands to her face to find her lips. Once he felt them, he pressed his lips to hers. They were cool. It was their first and last kiss. Regret filled him. Her lips were soft and yielded to his. He caressed her left cheek covered in gauze before he noticed her braid was missing. Her brilliant pink and green hair ruined. More tears fell. 

If the gods let them be reborn as humans, he would kiss her any chance he got. To ensure she knew how much she meant to him and express what he couldn’t in this shitty, wretched life. I am sorry I could not be with you. 

“Next time, I’ll have the courage to tell you how I feel,” Obanai confessed and felt her smile against his lips. She would be gone before him. He gripped her tighter waiting to take their last breaths. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Mitsuri promised, her voice barely above a whisper. Why had he been so slow to realize their feelings were mutual? Because he could not see beyond his own self loathing, shame, and guilt along with the inherent belief Mitsuri could never love a lesser man. He ran his thumb over her gauze covered cheek. Because he never left the lattice prison. 

A small boy in a white kimono and purple obi appeared behind his eyelids. The room littered with wasted food that smelled of oil and fat. It was almost sweet from the meat rot. He covered his face with the sleeve to reduce the smell. It did not help. He crawled to the corner of the cage and looked past the wooden grid. There was nothing to look at or do. The walls were plain with a singular sliding door where his mother, grandmother, aunts, and cousins would appear… Well, them and whatever entered the room in the middle of the night when he was supposed to be sleeping. 

The boy with two colored eyes spent day after day reflecting on his simple existence. His mind would wander as his eyes followed the wood grain on the floor up to the door. Every day he wondered what lay beyond the sliding door. When he was taken to the chamber beyond, he met the snake demon. A monster with tawny scales and putrid golden eyes who claimed she wanted a taste. His family held him down and cut open his mouth for his blood to spill into a chalice. They put him back in the cage and though Obanai physically escaped, he had never escaped. 

He never left behind the thoughts that he was a vile creature from an impure family. The Iguro clan made a deal to house and feed a demon their infants in return for land, money, and other riches. Three hundred and seventy years they lived off their greed, only for a twelve year old boy to ruin everything…A selfish boy born from their filthy bloodline murdered fifty women because he wished to know what lay beyond his prison. His cousin told him as much. Obanai grimaced. He would be the last Iguro.

It was what he said he wanted… To be the last of his name and have everything his family represent die with him. It was not true. His chest rattled as he acknowledged the life he craved. A normal, uncomplicated life where he could marry Mitsuri, give her children, and spend his days ensuring their happiness. Everything felt heavy with the acknowledgement. What could have been had he put aside his own misgivings?

Mitsuri stopped breathing first. Her body grew cold, her usual warmth lost. He pulled the haori tighter around her frame in vain. As her light faded, his shadow slipped back into the darkness where he belonged. He would be with her soon. 

In his next life, he hoped to come from a good family and be the person Mitsuri needed him to be. In their next life he could love her the way she deserved. He tightened his hold on her body, never wanting to let her go even in death. In a world without demons, he would marry her and tell her he loved her every chance he had. He would give her everything he couldn’t in this life. The last image in his mind was Mitsuri smiling as he handed her a tsukimi dango and telling her she deserved the moon. 

Chapter Text

Mid July

Obanai woke in a cold sweat. His pillow was damp. He winced and ran a hand over his ruined face expecting three jagged cuts running diagonally. Of course, they weren’t there. He opened his eyes to find Mitsuri sleeping soundly beside him. It was just a dream. He took in her vanilla-sakura scent and ran a hand through her hair, finding comfort in the action. They were alive and safe in her bedroom. It was only a nightmare. His mouth and throat were dry. He sighed and rolled towards the nightstand in search of water. There was none. 

He must have forgotten to grab a glass last night. Quietly, he sat up at the edge of the bed and walked silently to the kitchen. He flipped up the light switch. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright light. It was a terrible dream. Another one to add to the growing list. He could not escape them. 

How many more times would he be forced to revisit the twisted samurai fantasy? It made him feel sick to be thrown back into that mindset. Each dream acted as a reminder of his trauma and self defeating behaviors. 

“Recovery isn’t linear,” he muttered like a mantra. 

He opened up the cabinet beside the sink and pulled out a glass. Turning on the faucet, he put his fingers under the water to check the temperature. He filled it halfway before taking a sip. 

What was that dream trying to tell him? He was blinded by an injury and found Mitsuri lying in the street dying. It was incredibly morbid. Even now, Obanai he could feel the three slashes over his eyes and face. Pain rippled over his face, but it was nothing compared to feeling Mitsuri’s soul leaving her body. 

It’s not real. It never happened. Dr. Ubuyashiki said the dreams have the meaning I give them. Despite the rationalization, he grasped the edge of the counter to prevent his hand from shaking. These dreams were so vivid and disorienting because they caused visceral reactions. It happened each time he entered the samurai fantasy. He closed his eyes, blocking out one sense to ground himself. Taking another sip of water, he tasted iron. The scent and taste of blood overwhelmed everything else. He opened his eyes and he set down the glass on the counter. His stomach cramped. 

No. No. No. 

Not right now. 

His whole body felt clammy from sweat. He leaned his back against the bottom cabinet, forcing himself to slide down as he saw dark spots and his vision tunneled. Was he going to have a panic attack in Mitsuri’s kitchen? 

Focus. 

Obanai bent his knees and set his head between them. Opening his eyes, he attempted to count crumbs on the floor, but failed. His vision blurred as it flickered between darkness and how he imagined dream Mitsuri lying in his arms. Obanai buried his hands in his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp. 

“I don’t want you to die, Iguro-san,” she responded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough help.” He pressed his cheek to her forehead. 

“That’s not true. I’m begging you, don’t talk like that,” he said. 

There was no stopping the memories from rolling back and hitting him like a wave at their last conversation. No-It wasn’t their last conversation. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. He pulled at his roots. Why did he have to dream about this ? He let her down. He let her die because he hadn’t been enough. 

You’ll never be enough. 

Know your place, you piece of shit. 

You let her die. 

You ruin everything you touch.

 It’s only a matter of time until you ruin her too. 

You deserve nothing. 

You worthless, pathetic-

Obanai punched the floor in order to prevent the thoughts from worsening. He meant to shock his autonomic nervous system and failed. He shouldn’t have done that. His knuckles stung. Tears rolled down his cheeks as recalled the sensation of Mitsuri’s body turning cold. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself and Mitsuri. Both versions of themselves. He shouldn’t be doing this. Obanai hit the floor again.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” Obanai repeated. He pulled at his hair, this time pulling some out. When was the last time he had a panic attack? It must have been the first time he hugged Mitsuri. He shivered as a sense of déjà vu settled in his chest. The dream would not stop repeating itself. Their last conversation was filled with confessions and promises. 

“I’m so happy,” Mitsuri sniffled. “I-I really love you, Obanai!”

“And next time I will definitely make you happy and protect you so you don’t die,” he vowed. 

His shallow breaths increased. He promised her as much in this life. He removed his hands from his hair and they began to tremble. Opening his eyes, he stared at the wood floor. The other promise they made was impossible to believe. 

“Iguro-san, Iguro-san, please,” she coughed. “If we’re ever reborn-If we’re ever reborn as humans, will you make me your wife?” 

“Yes, of course, if you agree to have someone like me,” he answered.

He promised to marry her in their next life. Obanai bowed his head and clenched his hands. Fingernails dug into his palms. It was another subconscious thought coming forward. He already admitted he wanted a future with her, it was not a stretch of the imagination to have it surface in his dreams. Why did it have to be a promise made upon their deaths? The dire circumstances weighed heavily in his mind. He glanced around the room to find three white objects to ground himself before he spiraled further. 

Too late.

If she saw him having a mental breakdown on her kitchen floor, Mitsuri would want nothing to do with him. A weak and pathetic man. Let alone when he told her the reason. He dreamt she died a gruesome death where her arms were amputated. It was fucked up. 

Why?

Why?

Why?

Obanai squeezed his head between his knees again. He hated this. He hated feeling helpless. If Obanai could not handle his own issues, how could he possibly support Mitsuri? He couldn’t save her, protect her, or make her happy. It wasn’t in the cards for him. He would only disappoint her or worse. Nails dug into his shoulders and back attempting to pull him down yet again.

This was the other shoe dropping. 

No, that’s not right. 

At the beginning of this week, he finally asked her what her dream was. He wrapped a hand around his stomach as a wave of nausea hit him. Mitsuri looked so pleased when he admitted he saw a future with her. She pushed him down onto the couch in her excitement.

His dreams were trying to reinforce his old self. Obanai shook his head as he tried to rationalize what his dream meant. They saw Tomoe, which was about lovers dying. That was easily explained, but there were other details. His blindness, Mitsuri losing her arms-  He felt like he was about to puke. 

The scent of blood, iron, and dirt clouded his senses. That and the sensation of Mitsuri’s soul leaving her body. It was his fault. He should have been able to save her. However, he was left holding her, not wishing to be separated from her even in death. 

It reminded him of the first time he held her. Mitsuri asked for a hug after a game night with their friends. He smelled blood, iron, and dirt then. He attributed it to his mother’s abuse, but… What if it was more? What if the last time he held her she died in his arms? What if it was more than a nightmare? 

Someone twisted his heart. Acid rose in the back of his throat. More tears formed. That wasn’t the case. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. These dreams were reminders that he was nothing more than a worthless, sad, and pathetic man. His mother’s words filtered past his mental barriers. 

“Fuck,” Obanai whispered as he gritted his teeth. His scars pulled on his cheeks. His nails dug into his side, leaving crescent shaped indents in his skin. He should have known better than to believe he could ever escape his past, shame, guilt, and self loathing. He’d always be broken. 

Mitsuri’s arms tingled as her consciousness surfaced. Pins and needles pricking her skin to remind her she was alive. Her arms were ripped from her body as she pulled on Muzan’s tentacles. She would not have been able to hold her family and friends had she lived. 

How did her family react to the news of her death? Lead filled her stomach thinking of them. Her mother and father would have been crushed. Their eldest child died before she turned 20 and before them. Children were meant to outlive their parents. The sorrow they must have felt along with her siblings. 

Her family would mourn her and lay flowers, food, and incense at her grave. She hoped they brought sakura mochi. Her stomach flipped thinking of the taste of red bean. The old restaurant where her father had Mitsuri challenge sumo wrestlers to arm wrestling competitions. She beat them when she was 5 years old. Her father carried her out on his shoulders in victory. In her past life, she cursed her superior strength and when it was stripped away from her she mourned the loss. 

What sort of lives did they live after she died? Her heart crumbled. Hopefully, they lived longer than her parents. Losing one child was hard enough. Her fingers twitched. Mitsuri wanted to live even if the demon slayer mark limited her to 25 years. She would have had six years to spend with her loved ones. Any time with them she would have treasured. 

Even now she saw her parents and siblings sitting around a table. Meesha poked Megumi’s face to irritate him. Ren was engaged in a conversation with their father while Hinata sat in Mitsuri’s lap. Her middle brother, Toshiro, passed another bowl of rice towards Mitsuri. It was the last time she saw her family before the final battle. Mitsuri willed away the tears threatening to pour. 

Her family loved her unconditionally just like they did now. When she questioned whether or not she would ever marry, her parents told her she could stay with them forever. It didn’t matter to them if she left home. If only she recognized it before. She should have shown her appreciation more. She allowed society’s expectations for a woman to interfere with her perception of how her family perceived her. They only ever wanted her to be happy in her own skin. 

When the Master found her and invited her to join the Demon Slayer Corps, Mitsuri found a new purpose. To protect and serve others. Every time she picked up her nichirin sword, she utilized her strength to save people. The people she rescued were grateful. Everyone in the Demon Slayer Corps acknowledged and accepted her from the recruits, Kakushi, and hashiras. Her secondary goal was to find someone to marry. She gulped as her previous words filtered through her mind.

“Iguro-san, Iguro-san, please, if we’re ever reborn-If we’re ever reborn as humans, will you make me your wife?” 

“Yes, of course, if you agree to have someone like me.”

The last promise they made was to marry in the next life. Mitsuri knew their last life didn’t have a happy ending, but knowing this gave her hope for this life. A life without demons except for the ones inside their minds. 

Despite the nature of the dream, her heart swelled. They defeated Muzan, the Demon King. They saved countless lives at the cost of theirs and then promised to find each other in the next. She was right. Their souls sought each other in hopes of fulfilling the promise. 

The moment they met on the porch was fate. Neither knew their past or what their future held, yet they still fell in love. They’d been drawn together since the beginning, slowly dancing around each other. Each interaction brought them closer until they could no longer resist the pull. Earlier this week, Obanai said he saw a future with her. Even after she told him her traditional dream was to have family. This time she would ensure their happy ending.

Mitsuri fanned her hand out across the sheets in search of Obanai. Last night, he held her as she fell asleep. His pine scent soothed her. She reached her hand further, but found his side of the bed empty and cold. 

“Oba?” She whispered and opened her eyes. No answer. “Oba?” 

Where did he go? Mitsuri scooted towards the edge of bed before sitting up to turn on the lamp. She had to blink several times before her eyes adjusted to the light. His phone was resting on the charging mat. Glancing down at his pillow, she noticed a wet spot on the white pillowcase and her eyes narrowed. He didn’t drool in his sleep. She stood and opened her bedroom door. Down the hall, Mitsuri saw the kitchen light on. 

“Oba,” she said as she made her way to the kitchen. When she walked in she didn’t see him. There was a water filled glass on the counter. She sidestepped the counter and saw him sitting on the ground. His head was between his bent knees and his arms hooked around them. His whole body was tense. Immediately, she dropped to the floor. He didn’t lift his head or acknowledge her presence. What happened? What was wrong? 

“Obanai,” Mitsuri said as she sat on her knees in front of him. “Are you-” She brushed his forearm. He flinched and pulled his arm back. 

“Don’t touch me,” Obanai said. Despite the demand, his tone was neutral. Her heart sank to the floor and she dropped her hand. His words and actions stung. In her dream, she couldn’t touch him no matter how hard she tried, but now he told her not to. A lump caught in her throat and her shoulders curled inward. His hair hung over his face, so she couldn’t read his expression. His voice reminded her of when he admitted he had depression and anxiety. It was dull and lacking his usual cool, smooth tone. 

“What’s wrong?” Mitsuri forced herself to ask as her chest tightened. 

Silence followed, but one of Obanai’s hands tightened its hold in his hair. What happened? His knuckles were white against his black locks. He told her not to touch him. She had to respect his wish even though she ached to weave her hands through his hair and take away whatever was troubling him. 

“Please,” she pleaded as she scooted centimeters closer. Her stomach rolled like a typhoon as she waited for Obanai's answer. His burdens were hers.  

“I’m broken,” Obanai said, not looking at her. The blue veins on his forearms were more prominent as he tensed. 

“You’re not,” Mitsuri said as she set one hand on the ground to lean forward. His shoulders shook as he tried to control his breathing. “Please look at me.” Her voice quivered. He didn’t. “I know you may feel like you’re broken, but you’re not. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is we’ll face it together.” Mitsuri tried her best to smile, but inside she was squirming. 

The last time Obanai held her she died. He’d been right originally. His corrupted hands never should have touched her. In fact, she shouldn’t touch him. He winced when she tried. It was not his intention to push her away, but the dream was on repeat. 

You know that’s not true. The dream only has meaning if you give it meaning. The logical part of him emerged pushing back the intrusive thoughts. He was broken, but he had been mending himself slowly. Melding together the broken bits and pieces with tempered gold and sunlight. He released his hair and lifted his head to see Mitsuri sitting on her knees, leaning towards him. She wore a smile, but it failed to light up her eyes. She could never hide her true feelings when they were clearly written on her face. 

“I had a nightmare,” Obanai started, each word he had to force out. If he was silent, nothing would happen. Despite the torrent of guilt and shame, he couldn’t remain stagnant and still hope to change. It had never gotten him anywhere. Tell her. She loves you. 

“You were there. We were in a battle.” His hand trembled and he had to hold it with his other one to calm it. His throat tried to close. 

Mitsuri assessed him, her green eyes misty. She was so close, he could see her sun kissed freckles. Her bottom lip quivered despite her attempt to smile. She was trying to keep it together for his sake. He had to do the same. He rubbed away the tears running down cheeks. More were sure to come. 

“We killed a demon, but I was blinded and you-” Bile rose and he covered his mouth. It was disgusting. “You lost your arms. I wrapped you in my haori and held you. You were bleeding out. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t do a damned thing to save you. I couldn’t-” He bit the inside of his cheek. He was going to spiral if he kept talking. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked. He found himself nodding. Mitsuri brushed her knuckles across his tear stained cheeks. “I’m alive,” she said and leaned closer until she was all he could see. “We’re here now, okay?” She tried to sooth him, cupping his cheek. “We’re together. Nothing is going to separate us this time.” The words struck him as odd. 

“This time?” Obanai mouthed. What did she mean?

“And this time I will definitely make you happy.” 

Mitsuri pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. Her touch typically calmed him, but he couldn’t forget the nightmare. Helpless and distraught, he lost her. The only woman he ever loved. He clenched his teeth. 

“Have you had other dreams like this?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. There had only been a few. They started after New Years when they acknowledged their feelings, but he rejected her and denied any type of future with her. He fought too hard to let these dreams get the best of him. He could not allow it to be the other shoe dropping. 

“They’ve never been as brutal. They’re about us. Any fear or reservation I’ve had, a dream addressed it. The night I realized I loved you, I dreamed about writing you a love letter. Another time we ate onigiri in a tree and argued about the newest recruits of demon slayers,” he paused. A shadow passed over her face and she looked away. He should stop before she realized she made a mistake in loving him. 

Don’t leave me. Please don’t. I can’t lose you twice in a night. Obanai wanted to plead. Tears welled up as he desperately wished he was not broken and could be the person Mitsuri deserved. He promised to be better for her and himself. He broke the promise and crumpled to a useless pile on the floor. Why would she stay? I’m sorry. Mitsuri shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she started, “I thought it would have been better if you didn’t know.” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as she met his gaze. “They’re not dreams,” Mitsuri said. She scooted closer. Determination laid underneath. “The Demon Slayer Corps, the battle, demons, everything you dreamt was real. They’re from another life.”

His stomach dropped beneath the floor. Great, we’re both delusional. Fantastic. He furrowed his brow. 

“I know it sounds crazy-No, impossible, but I had the same dream. I thought they were dreams too, but they’re memories,” Mitsuri continued as she took note of his expression. “How can I prove it?” She tapped her lip. “The demon we beat was Muzan, but he had white hair and these weird fleshy tentacles. You had three cuts,” she said and dragged a finger across her face to indicate where the cuts would have been.

Her bottom lip trembled as she paused. More tears sprung from her eyes. He began shaking his head. It couldn’t be possible. Obanai tapped each finger to his thumb to ease his nerves. It wasn’t possible, but how did she know about Muzan and the gross tentacles? Had she even met him? Or the cuts over his eyes? 

At one point, he wondered if the dreams were more than that and if they were from a past life. However, he pushed those thoughts aside. It was ridiculous, delusional except instinctually he knew she was right.

“You couldn’t see me and I couldn’t hold you,” Mitsuri bowed her head and sniffed. “So, you held me. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have died alone. I would have died thinking I’d done nothing in the fight. You made sure I wasn’t alone. You always protected me and I didn’t realize how much you loved me. Until the end, I thought- Sorry, I’m talking too much,” she said.

“No, don’t,” Obanai said reflexively. She never had to apologize for existing or talking. “You never have to apologize to me.” His lover raised her head. Her face was red from crying. 

“What you’re saying-” He couldn’t find the right words. How was one supposed to respond to her telling him their dreams were memories? “You wouldn’t joke about this.” 

If they were reincarnated though, why did fate fuck him over twice? Twice born to a shitty family, twice scarred, and twice the suffering. From his understanding, reincarnation was dependent on how someone lived their past life. The goal was to reach enlightenment and nirvana. The expectation was to do better in every life. What had his dream self been doing if it were true? 

Obanai’s nails dug into his palm as his vision blurred. One boy trapped in a cage and the other trapped in the basement with his family tormenting him. The snake demon resembled his mother with her dark hair and large eyes. The clinking on the basement steps versus the sound of scales dragging across the floor. His nails threatened to break his skin. The hair on the back of his neck rose. What the fuck had he done to deserve another lifetime of abuse if it were true? He shook his head. No, he couldn’t think like that. He never deserved to be hurt by his mother, family, or the demon in either life. 

“Obanai?” Mitsuri’s voice cut through the mist. He blinked and settled his eyes on her. “I know it’s hard. It’s part of the reason I was upset last night. Tomoe and Yoshinaka reminded me of us. I think they’re the reason we had this dream,” she said. When she started crying last night, it worried him. She was a sensitive person, but her crying seemed more personal than simply empathizing with the couple.

“Because our dream mirrored theirs?” Obanai asked. She nodded once. “How long have you thought these dreams were memories?” His lips twitched at the last word. It seemed impossible. 

“Only a few weeks. The night I made you manju. You were talking in your sleep,” she explained. “You promised to protect me and make me happy. I dreamt of you making that promise before, so it made me start wondering if they were more.” 

He’d wondered the same thing. As much as he wanted to reject the idea, he couldn’t. When he ate the manju cookie, he critiqued it as if he had tasted it before despite never having eaten it in this life. It was another reason to believe her. He remembered that night and dream. The news of Kyojuro’s death and his desperate wish to comfort Mitsuri. He held her then. His heart ached. 

“I can’t lose you too,” she said before she buried her face in his haori. 

In the end, they lost each other. 

“That night… I dreamt of comforting you after Kyojuro died. He was a hashira and your mentor. You baked manju then,” Obanai said. “Afterwards I went back to my estate and admitted I wanted to be with you and promised to make you happy and defend you.” He closed his eyes. The lines blurred between this life and the previous. “Except I thought I had to die and be reborn in order to be good enough for you. Killing the Demon King was the only way to redeem myself.” 

“We may have died, but we beat him and the rest of the demons. We accomplished what the Corps was created for. No one else had to suffer,” Mitsuri said with a small smile. Obanai nodded. 

She was right. They beat Muzan. His life’s purpose was fulfilled and he would be cleansed for his next life. The victory was hollow because the person he loved died. He shook his head. It was too much to process all at once. 

“Even if we hadn’t, you never had to be good enough. You loved-No, love me as I am. The weird awkward girl who cries too much.” To prove her point, tears fell down her cheeks. “See?” She sniffed. 

He reached up to brush her tears away. Even in this life, he struggled with the idea of being good enough, but he came to the conclusion ‘good enough’ did not exist. Obanai pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her as he had done in the dream. This time though she could hug him back. Her cherry blossom-vanilla scent overrode the dirt and blood he smelled previously. The familiar scent calmed him. He rested his head on her shoulder. 

“Of course, I love you,” he whispered. The words that used to scare him brought forth a sense of well being. “Part of me wants to deny what you’re saying, but I can’t. I don’t know how you would know about the cuts over my eyes, Muzan, or the promises we made,” he said. She stilled in his arms and his breath paused. Obanai lifted his head from her shoulder to find her watching him. 

“Do you remember the promise we made back then?” Mitsuri asked, her face flushed. Recognition flashed on his face as his heart stuttered. 

“Yes, I do,” he answered, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

They watched each other, neither one was sure what to say. Their other selves made a promise to marry in the next life if they were reborn as humans. This was that life. Somehow they found each other and fell in love without knowing the promise.

Was it predestined? Was this the reason why he had never been attracted to anyone, but her? Doubt edged at the corner of Obanai’s mind. What if what he felt for her now was only because of his past life? No, he loved her for everything she was. That much he was certain of. Before tonight, the dreams were manifestations of his greatest fears and desires. 

He reached up to trace her left cheek where she had been injured in the dream. It was smooth and whole. Her ear was intact and her eccentric pink hair flowed past her shoulders. Mitsuri leaned into his touch, tilting her head slightly. 

“And what do you think?” Mitsuri asked hesitantly, her voice quivered. “I know we made the promise as different people, so I won’t hold you to it if you don’t want to.”

They were different from their past selves. Their lives ran parallel, but not exactly the same. None of what he wished for came true. He didn’t come from a good family. He still had his horrid scars, self loathing, and other ailments. However, he had been able to accept the parts of himself he hated. In some aspects he was still broken. That would not change, but he was becoming better. Not perfect, but better. 

And this time he had the courage to tell her he loved her. He loved her for two lifetimes. A total of forty-nine years of pining after the same woman. Now, he finally had her and he never wanted to let go.

How many lifetimes would they get the chance to love each other? Who's to say they would be reincarnated as humans again? Why should he deny it? But what about her?

“Do you still want to be my bride?” Obanai asked, not bothering to add flowery language. Her breath hitched. Time seemed to stand still as he waited for her response. She must have felt the same when he didn’t answer right away. 

Tick Tock. 

Tick Tock.  

Tick Tock.  

“Yes,” she breathed. “Even before I knew the dreams were memories I knew I wanted to marry you. We’ve only been together for a few months, so maybe it’s not the appropriate time to talk about it, but I know I want you. I always did and will, Obanai.” Relief flooded over him at her words. 

“My mom said life doesn’t stop for there to be a right time. I don’t want to wait for the right time anymore. I want to be yours. Partner, bride, wife, everything that life entails. Maybe I’m wanting too much, but we lost our chance because neither of us had the courage to speak up. I don’t want to waste this life questioning this-us. I want to be your bride,” Mitsuri finished. 

She bent her head down to touch their foreheads together. He could see the ring of emerald around her light eyes. They glowed with determination. He loved her and her adamant desire to be with him despite all his flaws. 

“I already said I wanted a future with you, Mitsuri. This doesn’t change that or how I feel about you,” he said calmly. Her brows rose and her grip around his shoulders tightened. She closed the space between them and brushed her lips to his. Mitsuri smiled, much like their first kiss in this life, ultimately ending the kiss. He couldn’t help, but smile back. They deserved to be happy. This was their second chance and he would not waste it.  

Chapter Text

Mid to Late July

“If we lived,” Mitsuri began, “what do you think would have happened?” She sat on the high stool by the island. He poured pancake batter into the skillet. Her stove failed to keep an even temperature, so each pancake he made had a different texture. He scrutinized the heating element. 

Since the other night and his momentarily mental breakdown, Obanai reminded himself to give himself compassion. It was not everyday someone found out they were reincarnated along with everyone meaningful in their life. Especially not dreaming of their dying moments where they desperately clung to their beloved. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. 

One day at a time. Recovery is not linear. Setbacks are normal. He repeated these all like a mantra.

“I haven’t thought that far,” Obanai said, listening to the oil pop. It would have been easier if he brought his griddle over or cooked at his house. There he could control every aspect. The griddle, oil, heat, and measuring the ingredients. Today he learned Mitsuri did not own a complete set of measuring cups. He could not say he was surprised given she baked off of vibes . 

“If we lived, I would have wanted you to meet my family,” Mitsuri said. His grip on the spatula tightened. He knew of her family. Her parents and five siblings cared for her dearly. Plus her family’s cats. In her living room, there were a dozen pictures from graduations, holidays, and vacations. 

“They were very accepting people and would have adored you.” She cleared her throat. “The next time I visit my family, I’d like you to come with me. It probably won’t be until this fall or maybe right before school starts. They only live a few hours away, so we could go up for a weekend.”

Meeting your partner’s family was normal. Especially if you intended on marrying them. The issue would be his anxiety. That and her family would wonder about his face mask. He couldn’t share how his mother cut up his face and gifted him these scars. They would be polite enough not to ask. It’d only be for a weekend. In a strange home with people he didn’t know. Mitsuri would be beside him though. 

“Do you think they’d be okay with that?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Mitsuri said, shifting in her seat. “When I visited them in June, I talked about you… and I sort of mentioned to my mom how I thought you were the one.”

“You did?” His voice threatened to stutter. He could feel his ears turning red. They had been together for months now and he still got flustered over the moments leading up to now. Lifting the pancake with a spatula, he noted the golden crisp bottom and flipped it. 

“Yeah, I showed my mom a picture of us from New Year’s Eve. The one with me leaning into you and Kaburamaru wearing his New Year’s hat. She said you were looking at me like my dad looks at her,” she said and her eyes widened. “Wait- were you in love with me then?”

Obanai remembered the picture vividly. It was one of the first times he realized how obvious his affections were for the pink haired woman. The same night he thought they couldn’t be together in this universe, but they could in another. He nearly scoffed at the irony. 

Back then, he called himself a simp because he refused to believe she had feelings for him. That evening proved otherwise, but he foolishly rejected her. His mouth twitched. No, not foolish. He’d been terrified and thought himself unworthy. If he acted on their mutual feelings, it would have ended in disaster. He would have tried to sabotage them given where he was in his recovery. 

“I didn’t know it, but yes,” he said finally. “The night I showed you my scars was the night I realized I loved you.” The oil popped louder and he used the spatula to set the pancake on a plate. He picked it up and set it in front of Mitsuri. 

Her face reddened. “When you rushed over and nearly swept me off my feet by saying you missed hanging out and not seeing me?” He nodded and reached for her hand. He kissed her fingertips. 

“That night, you told me you accepted me as I was. After that, I knew,” he said. Green eyes moistened and her lip trembled. “When did you realize you loved me?” Obanai asked, squeezing her hand. It was getting easier to ask these questions. 

“After you said you learned how to dance for me,” Mitsuri admitted. “My other partners never did anything like that for me. They didn’t-I don’t want to say they didn’t care, but they didn’t take the time to learn or do things for me. It meant the world when you did.” She held his gaze. 

Learning how to dance had been a feat in itself. Shinjuro took him through the basics of a box step, how to direct a dance partner, and where to place his hands without making it awkward depending on who the dance partner was. Like with any other skill, Obanai practiced until he was passable if not masterful. He didn’t want to embarrass Mitsuri at the reception. 

“Or the moon,” she added with a slight smile. Was he supposed to understand the reference? It was probably like ‘the more you know’ reference. He tilted his head in question and waited for an explanation. “Do you remember the first Tsukimi festival we went to?” Mitsuri asked. They’d never gone to one. It must have been from before. She brought up their previous life so casually. With time, he would get there. Obanai shook his head. 

“I guess we don’t always have the same dreams. We went to the local Tsukimi Festival and I told you how my father used to pretend to pluck the moon from the sky with dango. You did the same and told me I deserved the moon,” Mitsuri explained as she picked up her fork to cut the pancake. 

His body stiffened. Another parallel. Obanai promised to give Mitsuri the moon after he tended to her sprained ankle last October. He’d written it in the last letter meant to be given after his death. Internally, his stomach flipped. He closed his eyes briefly, willing away the sensation. How was he supposed to give her the moon? 

Obanai flipped the card in his hand. The card had Dr. Ubuyashiki’s contact information. With everything that happened in the past three weeks, Obanai debated whether or not to call his counselor. Between his cousin returning to sell the property, his relationship, and the upcoming wedding, Obanai had been able to handle them. He had the proper tools, techniques, and support to alleviate the symptoms of anxiety and rationalize his feelings. 

However, nothing could have prepared him for the realization the dreams he’d been having were memories. There were no guidebooks on how to process having lived two lifetimes. He sighed and bowed his head. What could he tell Dr. Ubuyashiki?

Dr. Ubuyashiki knew about the dreams, but he did not know the truth behind them. In his previous life, the counselor had been the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. He showed no signs of remembering their previous lives, but who else did other than Mitsuri and him? Mitsuri said Shinobu knew, but Obanai was not about to talk to her. They knew each other in passing in this life. 

Sighing, he stared at the card’s font and traced the letters with his eyes. Obanai wasn’t at risk of hurting himself or spiraling like he had after the last nightmare. However, it was easier for Obanai to reflect on events and his emotions surrounding them with Dr. Ubuyashiki, an objective third party.

There were still unknowns in regards to his past life. His upbringing was horrific and borderline psychotic since he was raised as a sacrifice and he channeled all of his rage into killing demons. Back then, he loathed himself to the point he believed he needed to die just to cleanse his soul. 

Mitsuri’s question from earlier haunted him. What would have happened if he survived the final battle with Muzan? There’s no way his self hatred and guilt would have dissipated with the Demon King. No, it had been deep rooted in his genetic code. Then there was the question whether or not Mitsuri would have lived. He gritted his teeth. If she survived, would they have married or would he have self sabotaged them? 

There were too many what ifs circulating. In truth, there was no way of knowing what would have happened if they survived. They could only live their current life. Moments before his death, he vowed to give her everything and the moon. Obanai set the card on the table. 

“I already said I wouldn’t live in the past,” he said. “Before I died, I achieved my goal of killing the Demon King and saving humanity.” It was a small comfort knowing he and the rest of the Demon Slayers succeeded. The hashira and Tanjiro fought until the sun rose and burned Muzan to death. Obanai’s shoulders tensed as he recalled jumping in front of the younger man and Muzan bit into his torso, head, and arm. The memory was still fresh.

“We did it,” he whispered and closed his eyes. He massaged his temples. Images of the other hashira flashed behind his eyelids. Sanemi, Gyomei, Mitsuri, Kyojuro, Tengen, Muichiro, Shinobu, Kanae, and Giyuu made their sacrifices for the good of humanity. Everyone was reincarnated in the modern era. They were fortunate to be given a second chance and their lives intersected similarly. He met everyone except Muichiro.

A man with black hair and ocean blue eyes reappeared in his mind. Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Hashira who thought himself better than them. He wondered if Shinobu or the others knew him.  Of course, Obanai met him before. Parallel to the other life, Sanemi and him bonded over their mutual dislike for the stuck up prince. Obanai pinched his brow, recalling how they became friends in high school. 

<><><><><><>

“You know Halloween is in October, right?” Someone asked. It was study hall and the teacher had slipped out of the room to grab some supplies. Obanai kept his head down not wanting to interact. He attended school for a week and talked to no one. The other students were loud and were already settled into their groups. Obanai just wanted to get through the school day not talking to others, especially the girls. 

He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise anytime a girl came within a few meters of him or spoke. His heart thudded wildly. Their voices were so high and there was one girl who looked like his cousins. Black hair and dark eyes. He avoided her the best he could and would walk the opposite way if he saw her. 

“Hey, I asked you a question,” the teenager said. Obanai shrugged and focused on his history homework. He wasn’t in the mood for this. 

Last night he woke up to the sound of Kaburamaru gurgling. The sound was unnatural. He ran over to the cage to find the snake wheezing and hardly moving. His heart raced as he picked up the reptile and ran to Shinjuro’s room. Something was wrong with his friend. Shinjuro took him and Kaburamaru to the emergency vet. He told Kyojuro to stay home with Senjuro and get him ready for school if they weren’t home by 6:00 A.M. 

The vet said Kaburamaru had a respiratory infection and was given oral antibiotics. He’d be fine, Obanai had to remind himself. Obanai only had the snake for two months, but if anything happened he wasn’t sure how it would affect him. They were the same. Bruised and broken creatures. 

“Are you deaf or mute?” The boy yelled, waving his hand in front of Obanai. His lips curled up and his nostrils flared. 

“Fuck off,” the black haired teenager growled lowly. His throat felt raw as the other boy laughed obnoxiously. 

“He speaks! And such a fucking attitude. I was asking you a question.” Obanai heard the desk creak as the other boy leaned over the desk. “Why do you look like a mummy?”

Bandages covered Obanai’s face. The doctor suggested using a compression mask to improve the appearance, but Obanai shook his head. He didn’t deserve it for what he had done. These scars served as an omen. Reminders he would never be normal, no matter what he did to change. They would always be there. Ugly scars for the ugliness of his soul and the sins he committed. 

“None of your business.” Obanai’s neck prickled. Why did this guy care? They’d been sitting next to each other for the past week and said nothing. Ignoring each other worked out well. Why did this guy have to ruin it? 

“You should know, you look like shit,” the teenager tried again to irritate him. Dick. His gaze flickered up to the guy next to him. He had short messy white hair that stuck out randomly as if he used gel. His large eyes were dark violet and he had nearly nonexistent eyebrows. There was a scar running across his hairline that blurred due to Obanai’s right eye. 

“Holy shit, your eyes,” the boy laughed again, pointing between Obanai’s dual toned eyes and bandages. “You must love Halloween to be wearing those!” 

“Shut up,” Obanai snapped back, narrowing his eyes. He knew he was ugly. Putrid amber and swampy teal eyes and a bandaged face. It was unnatural and disgusting. 

“No way. You’re a theater kid, right? All the makeup, contacts, and bandages. Dude, pick one,” the teenager chuckled. Some of the other students looked back at them and he froze. He didn’t want their attention. He needed to get through today without issues. 

Be good , his mother whispered in her sickeningly sweet voice. Obanai gripped his pen harder. Please, not now . He shut his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste his own blood. He could see the other boy’s mouth moving, but not the words. Based on the white haired boy’s expression though he was taunting him.

“-how could your mom let you walk out the door like that?” His voice filtered through. 

Obanai’s pen snapped in half and his fist connected with the boy’s face. The other desk toppled to the floor when Obanai launched at the shithead. He was reacting based on instinct. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins as his knuckles hit the boy’s face again. 

Several students screamed and jumped out of their seats. The other boy’s face was bloodied and his eyes watered. Instead of backing down, the other boy smirked, “You’ve got some balls.” He pushed Obanai off with a flat palm to the chest.  

The smaller boy was nearly knocked off balance and had to reach out for a chair to steady himself. Obanai’s hand throbbed and he had to flex it to ensure he had not broken anything. 

“Hold it!” A man yelled charging into the classroom. Obanai tensed, but kept his eyes on the other boy. “Mr. Shinazugawa!” He yelled as the violet eyed boy threw a punch at Obanai, but missed as Obanai ducked to the side. He twisted and shoved his shoulder into Shinazugawa’s ribcage. 

Due to the force, Shinazugawa reached out for a desk and its legs scraped against the beige tile floor, which made a horrid grating sound. Obanai jumped away to prepare for another strike. Before Shinazugawa could make another move, the teacher grasped the boy’s shirt and pulled him back. 

“Mr. Shinazugawa, we’re going to the nurses’ office. Mr. Iguro, you’re coming with us,” the teacher tried to grab Obanai. 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” the fifteen year old spat and narrowed his gaze. The teacher glared back and waved at him to follow him and the shithead. Begrudgingly, Obanai walked behind them with his head bent down. 

All he wanted to do was get through today without the pain, worry, and guilt. 

-------------

The school gave Obanai in school suspension. When he walked into the classroom dedicated to the troublemakers, he saw the white haired boy sitting in the desk closest to the window. His nose was covered in gauze. Another boy sat beside him. He had spiky black hair and vacant blue eyes. His face was pinched and rat like in nature. It unnerved Obanai. 

 Shinazugawa glared at him as he approached the desks. He sat down beside the blue-eyed boy. 

“You know Halloween is in October, right?” Obanai asked mockingly and the other boy laughed sarcastically. 

“I figured I’d join the gauze guild.” Shinazugawa stuck out his tongue. 

“Cut it out you two,” the teacher ordered at the front of the room. The boy between them shifted in his chair. 

“Can I be dismissed? I should not be here with them,” the blue eyed teenager asked, glancing between Obanai and the other one. What was that supposed to mean? Obanai’s eye twitched and narrowed. 

“What did you just say?” the white haired teenager cocked his head. His violet eyes flashed. “What do you mean by them?” he reiterated. 

The middle boy stared blankly in front of him. What was his problem? The teacher looked between the three boys before sighing. He took out a blue paper and passed it to the middle boy. Wordlessly, he took it and left the room. Why did he get permission to leave while they sat here? 

“Fucking Tomioka,” Shinazugawa gritted his teeth. 

“Language,” the teacher warned from his desk in front of them. 

“What’s his problem?” Obanai asked, casting one last glance towards the doorway. 

“Privileged rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone else,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Obanai examined the other’s clothes. He noticed the wrinkles, frayed seams, and disheveled appearance. “He thinks he’s better than everyone cause his daddy has a fortune,” Shinazuagawa said, rolling his shoulders. 

“Jerk,” Obanai said without thinking. Shinazugawa grinned before explaining how Tomioka went to Europe right before school started with his family. He nearly missed the first day. When someone’s family has a fortune, what was the point of going to school? Shinazugawa kept sharing information and Obanai would offer snide remarks. Their bond was sealed after that. 

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Looking back, Tomioka always thought he was better than them. What was the pinched faced man doing now? He disappeared before their junior year. There were rumors he moved, died, fell ill, or more outlandish ones where he married into royalty. Obanai rolled his eyes at the last one. It didn’t matter though. It’s not like Tomioka was going to show up on his doorstep expecting an apology. There was no time for this. He had a shift to get ready for. Maybe he could ruminate about his past life after the dinner rush?

Mitsuri: One more meeting and then I’m free! 🎉

Obanai: Is it for the humanities fair?

Mitsuri: Yep! I’m only a little nervous 😬 

Obanai: Your boss already approved it, right? So then there’s nothing to worry about. I’m headed into work soon. 

Mitsuri: I’ll see you when you get off 😊

Obanai: Your house?

Mitsuri: Yep! Be sure to bring the magical item for entry 

Obanai:... What?

Mitsuri: Sakura Mochi! I’ve been craving them. 

Obanai: How many? 

Mitsuri: so many!

Obanai: 1 or 2?

Mitsuri: more please? 🥺

Obanai: Should I bring whatever is leftover at the end of the night?

Mitsuri: Yes, please! Thank you! I love you! 🤍🖤

Obanai: Love you too. 💚

Mitsuri: 🥰

Mitsuri held the mug of coffee to her lips. The events of the last few days rolled in her mind as one of the school administrators walked around the conference room. He was discussing a teaching theory. Biting her lip, she forced herself to focus. It was almost her turn. 

“This year we want to put the spotlight on the children. We want them to co teachers and direct their own learning. We want to cultivate their individual interests and help them grow as people and lifelong learners,” Yahaba explained. Despite his low vision, he seemed to waltz around the room. He clicked to the next slide in the powerpoint. “Which brings us to the humanities fair.” The dark haired man gestured to Mitsuri. 

She set down her mug and stood up abruptly, bumping into the table. Gyomei sat beside her and he smiled. “You got this,” he whispered and Mitsuri bobbed her head once. She went to the front of the room and her mouth felt dry. 

Public speaking had never been her strong suit even when she knew most of the teachers, admin, and other staff on a personal level. The principal, Dr. Ubuyashiki, was technically still on vacation, but she was video calling in for this meeting. Amane offered her a reassuring smile. 

“I hope everyone is having a good morning,” Mitsuri started. “I know I worry about falling asleep, so I have to have one cup before, during, and after the meeting,” she laughed. Silence followed and she cleared her throat as the joke fell flat. She had been mugged.

“Anyway, Dr. Ubuyashiki asked me to talk about the humanities fair. The STEM fair was a big hit with the kids and their parents. As Mr. Kita said, we want the children to direct their own learning, so the humanities fair would be able to introduce them to different areas of work. I already have several volunteers that would be willing to participate including a DJ, painter, historian, and author. Plus, I have a lead on a chef.” 

Mitsuri smiled to herself thinking of Obanai and her face warmed. Do you still want to be my bride? His smooth voice resounded in her mind along with their promises. She might have gone overboard with her response, but she could not let him slip through her fingers again because of fear of rejection or societal expectations. 

She only dated Kyo for eight months before they got engaged. Society might have said it was too soon, wait until her family and friends knew about her and Obanai’s engagement. They’d known each other for almost a year. Dated technically since June, but he held her heart for as long as they’ve known each other. Her soul recognized Obanai for a kindred soul before her consciousness. She blinked a few times before she remembered she was in a meeting. 

Not the time to daydream about him. She chided herself. 

Mitsuri emphasized the importance of balancing the sciences and technological disciplines with art, history, and literature to round out the students’ interests. Amane helped her field questions regarding the When she returned to her seat, Gyomei patted her knee in support. 

“Who’s the chef?” Gyomei teased.  

“The guy I’ve been seeing. You’ll love him, I promise.” Mitsuri had to stifle the laughter that threatened to escape when Gyomei wiggled his eyebrows at her. 

‘ Do you still want to be my bride?’ 

The question echoed in Obanai’s mind. Did he really ask Mitsuri to marry him the other night? It was hard to believe he asked and even harder to believe that she said, ‘Yes ’, which meant they were engaged. Were they though? 

‘I want to be your bride.’ Stunned did not even begin to explain how he felt. There was no room for misinterpretation. Mitsuri wanted to marry him. His throat threatened to close. It was only a month ago he allowed himself to even think about the possibility of marriage and now he was engaged. Who was he? 

The answer was more complicated than it was before. Now he knew he lived two lifetimes as Iguro Obanai. In the first, he was a demon slayer and Serpent Hashira. In the second, he was the Head Chef at Nichirin and an adopted member of the Rengoku family. A harsh, rigid man with a dry sense of humor. To add to the list of titles, fiancé to Kanroji Mitsuri. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. 

Indescribable happiness filled him. It was too good to be true. There was a light buzz when he recalled her face as she accepted his proposal. Her eyes shined like emeralds. The rest of the night she smiled so much she said her cheeks hurt the next morning. 

He blinked quickly and forced himself to refocus on the grill. Earlier he promised not to ruminate on his past life, but nothing about the current one. Picking up a brush, he dipped it in the marinating sauce and glazed the chicken. Flames flared when sauce hit the grill. With his other hand, he used tongs to flip the meat over. 

Two minutes passed and he delicately placed it on a plate for Chef Agatsuma to prepare the miso chicken. Obanai decided to allow the younger chef to run the kitchen tonight. Part of being a leader was trusting in his staff.  If something happened where Zenitsu did not know how to react, Obanai would be there to act as a safety net. Despite the younger man’s anxiety and insecurities, Chef Agatsuma was progressing well. He’d come a long way since he over salted the broth his first day. So far, the blonde had been doing a good job. Zenitsu was able to direct the other chefs and relay orders from the waiters and attend to immediate concerns. 

The dinner rush passed by quicker than Obanai expected. When the restaurant started to lull Mr. Tecchikawahara called him into the office directly off the kitchen. Zenitsu sent another line chef to cover the grill in his absence. Obanai washed his hands thoroughly, trying to ease his nerves through routine tasks before the meeting. This meeting had not been planned. 

Obanai sat down in the well worn chair across from his boss. Obanai noted the stack of pillows piled underneath Mr. Tecchikawahara to compensate for his short stature. His eyes crinkled at the corners and crow’s feet showing his age. “Chef Agatsuma seems to be doing well,” he commented. 

“He is. He needs to raise his voice when directing everyone, so he does not have to repeat himself three times,” he said. Obanai rubbed his eyes as he adjusted to the artificial light. “It’ll come with confidence and time.” 

“He’s only been here for half a year. I’m surprised you allowed him to run the kitchen,” Mr. Tecchikawahara said. “You used to only trust Chef Sabito in Urokodaki’s or your absence. It’s good to see you rely on the new staff.” Obanai nodded stiffly. 

“Zenitsu is dedicated to Nichirin and he learns quickly,” Obanai explained. “We needed another person to know how to run the kitchen if Sabito or I were gone, so he seemed like the obvious choice.”

“I see. That’s actually part of the reason I asked you to meet me,” his boss said. “It looks like the new restaurant will be opening up earlier than expected. Our investor, Makomo, is hoping to have the kitchen set up by the end of the year and do a soft opening on New Year’s Day. I understand the timing is unorthodox, so you have the option to go ahead of time to train their staff. I would prefer it if you stayed to oversee the soft opening. Hiroshima is said to be beautiful around Christmas and New Years.”

Hiroshima. He swallowed. He had forgotten Nichirin’s next restaurant was opening there. His biological father and the Fujihara family lived near Hiroshima. Akira mentioned Mimi, his half sister, really wanted to meet him. She saw the food blog and recognized the similarities between Akira and Obanai. Though it’d be hard to miss given their heterochromia. If he decided to, he could meet her when he went to train the new staff. Meeting his half sister had not appealed to him before. Maybe he should look her up. He blinked, realizing Mr. Tecchikawahara was still talking.

“You’ll have to stay for about two weeks to train the kitchen staff. Closer to three if you stay for the opening. Everything will be paid for, of course, so you don’t have to worry about the cost, housing, or anything else,” Mr. Tecchikawahara rambled. “Maybe your family could visit, so it’ll be less lonely,” Mr. Tecchikawahara suggested. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” Obanai said. He tapped each finger to his thumb at his side. His boss would not be able to see his nervous tick below the desk. When he was promoted, he knew he would have to travel in order to train the new kitchen staff. He attended the meetings with the owner, investors, and the previous head chef. It would be a true test of his abilities as Nichirin’s Head Chef. He took pride in his work and this was the next step in his career. Though it might be daunting, he would be able to prepare. It was five months away. “When do you need an answer?” 

“Preferably as soon as possible, but the latest will be at the end of August,” his boss said. One month to decide where he would be on the first day of the new year. Here or Hiroshima. Either way he wanted Mitsuri beside him. 

The front lights of Obanai’s Jeep flickered past her front window. Mitsuri picked up Captain Sushi and went to open the door. He stepped out of the white Jeep with a box of her cherished mochi. He turned and smiled up at her, not just with his eyes, but his whole face. 

The sight floored her as butterflies flew in her stomach. Usually, he would only take his mask off when he was safely inside her house or their cars. He was trying to get more comfortable showing his scars. It was a tiny step, but a step nonetheless. It was well past midnight, so the likelihood of her neighbors seeing him was next to null. Obanai made it to the front door and held the Nichirin box up. 

“Is this the magical item you requested?” He asked as he opened the box to show her the pink mochi covered in leaves. Sushi squirmed in her arms and she let him go. She would probably find him attacking the plastic cap from her soda later. He preferred playing with trash over the toys she bought him including the catnip mice. 

“Yes, Crystal 2.0 will be pleased with the offering,” Mitsuri said and took the white box. He shook his head at her absurdity and shut the door behind him. She set the box down on the coffee table beside the heavy crystal bowl filled with hard candies. Obanai took his shoes off and pulled out his ponytail. Mitsuri grabbed his hand and led him towards her bedroom to change clothes. 

Since they started dating, Mitsuri and Obanai switched between their houses. Mitsuri gave Obanai the bottom dresser drawer and he gave her the top drawer. In the last month, she realized she had more clothes at his place than hers. She sat on the bed as he peeled off his work clothes. She traced his lean arm muscles with her eyes. 

“How was work?” Mitsuri asked as he threaded his arms through the sleeves. 

“Alright,” he said, pulling a fresh dark grey shirt over his head and then his well defined abs. She licked her lips, ignoring her base urges to grab his shirt and kiss him. Then she could- “Zenitsu did well for his first night in charge.” Obanai sat down on the bed beside her. He tapped his knee before turning towards her. 

“You know how I told you Nichirin is opening another location, right?” Obanai said. She nodded. He told her about his boss’s wish to branch out the restaurant to other cities. “My boss asked me to train their staff. I’d be gone for two weeks, maybe three, if I stayed for the opening.” The tapping on his knee increased.

“Three weeks?” She repeated as she raised an eyebrow. He swallowed as he dipped his head in confirmation. “Where is it?” 

“Hiroshima,” Obanai answered. It was over a four hour drive from here or a short flight. 

“It’s going to open on New Year’s Day,” he said and glanced away. “I’d be gone for most of December including Christmas if I stayed for the opening.” Mitsuri failed to hide her frown behind. His brows drew together and he moved closer. He read her easily.

“I don’t like the idea of missing Christmas or New Year’s with you,” Mitsuri admitted. “I don’t like being separated from you, especially now.” She scooted closer to him and set her knee on his thigh. “The selfish part of me wants to tell you to stay here, but this is your job. Do you want to stay for the opening?” He set his hand over her knee and took a moment to answer.  

“My first thought was no, but that was my fear talking,” Obanai said. He had come so far in the past year with pushing back his fears. “I’ve been part of Nichirin for years. It’s like my second home. I want it to succeed, so I’d like to oversee the opening.” 

“If that’s the case then you should stay. We can celebrate Christmas and New Year’s when you get back,” Mitsuri said as she laid her hand over his. This time she offered a small smile. To say she wasn’t disappointed would be a lie. Despite the distance, Mitsuri knew nothing could separate them. Not even death had been able to separate them completely. In her heart she knew they would find each other in every lifetime. A trip to Hiroshima would not change that. His hand gripped her knee tighter and with his other hand he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He let his fingertips caress her cheek as he watched her face intently. 

“Or you could join me,” Obanai suggested, “in Hiroshima.” Her breath stilled. “You don’t have to give me an answer now, but if you can I’d like to spend New Year’s with my fiancé.” Obanai’s ears tinged pink. Her smile widened and her heart bloomed with overwhelming affection. Who knew a single word would make her feel like a middle school girl dreaming of her wedding day? 

“My fiancé,” she repeated her voice raising in giddiness. His amber and teal eyes brightened. The word had the same effect on him. She leaned forward to kiss his scarred cheek and she could feel his skin warm up a fraction from the contact. Though he promised her happiness, Mitsuri knew her happiness was tied to his. His smile was one of her favorite sights.  A bit hesitant, but there was no longer the fear it would disappear. 

When Obanai learned about their past lives he had a breakdown. If she didn’t know what the dreams were prior to the death dream, she would have had one too. She nearly broke after Tomoe. With time the past visions would be easier to absorb, she hoped. Now they could rely on each other. No more secrets to restrain them or their future. 

“Yes,” Mitsuri said as her mouth moved faster than her brain. “I could see my family right after school lets out for winter break. Then they could look after Sushi. No cause then I would have to grab him before school started the day after New Year’s. Maybe Gyomei or Kanae would be able to.” She tapped a finger to her lips. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve never been there.” Mitsuri’s heart slowed as she recalled the other significance. 

“Akira lives there,” Mitsuri said quietly. 

“Yeah, my half sister too.” Obanai rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation froze. Since he learned the truth, Obanai decided not to keep in contact with his biological father. In her opinion, Akira seemed to genuinely regret not knowing about Obanai. He wanted a relationship with his son, but Obanai didn’t. Or at least he was not willing to yet. It was a shame in Mitsuri’s opinion. She adored her parents and siblings, but her upbringing was less complicated than Obanai’s. 

“Have you given any more thought about talking to them?” Mitsuri asked. 

“No, it’s-My father is Shinjuro and my brothers are Kyojuro and Senjuro. I don’t need Akira or Mimi and they certainly don’t need me.” Obanai sighed and brought his hand down to his lap. Blue veins flexed beneath his pale skin as he clenched his hand. He stared down at his lap as his eyes narrowed slightly. 

“You say you don’t need them,” Mitsuri said. “And maybe it’s not my place to ask or I’m overstepping, but do you want to know them?” She nearly said sorry, but he said she never had to apologize. Obanai looked up. 

“No, you have every right to ask. If we’re getting married then you should be able to ask me anything,” he said. Was he worried she was going to back out of the engagement? Not a chance. She meant to keep their promise. She intertwined their fingers, drawing upon the red string between their wrists, tying them closer. “I’m still not sure if I want to,” he added. 

“You don’t have to decide right now, but if you’re in Hiroshima it wouldn’t hurt, would it?” Mitsuri said. She saw his shoulders straighten as he corrected his posture. “Also, it’s not an if we marry, but a when we marry.” There it was again his eyes glowing in the low light of her bedroom that made her insides melt. 

“And when would that be?” Obanai asked. She had not thought that far in advance. It had only been a few days since he proposed. Currently, she was still basking in the clarity the other night brought. Dreams, memories, alternative past lives, the present, and their future. How long would it take to plan a wedding? Sanemi and Kanae had taken a year. 

“Next summer or fall?” She asked. “It doesn’t have to be a huge wedding as long as our loved ones are there.” 

“Next summer,” Obanai confirmed. “As long as I get to call you mine at the end of the day.” Her face burned thinking of the last time he called her mine. 

“I’m already yours,” she reminded him. He smirked and leaned forward to kiss her. More butterflies flew in her stomach. Next summer there would be no mistake who they were to each other. 

Sanemi: I’m enlisting you to pick up the wedding rings. 

Obanai: Isn’t that something you and Kanae should do? To make sure the rings fit? There’s only three days until the wedding.

Sanemi: They do. They made adjustments from last week. Just do it. Kanae would, but Shinobu and her boyfriend got an earlier flight. 

Obanai: Fine. 

Sanemi: I’ll give them your name. The shop closes at 3

Obanai: It’s already 2:15.

There was no response.

Damnit, Sanemi. It didn’t come as a surprise given Sanemi’s lack of social and texting etiquette. Sanemi would send a text asking him to come over at a specific date without explanation. Even if Obanai responded within minutes, Sanemi would not reply for three days or more. Even this close to the wedding, Sanemi was still Sanemi. Obanai grumbled as he shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed the keys out of the bowl by the entryway. 

Roughly 30 minutes later, Obanai opened the glass door to the jewelry shop, Tsugikuni’s Jewelers. No one else was in the room except for a black haired man wiping off the top of the cases with window cleaner. Obanai wrinkled at the smell of the ammonia. 

“I’m here to pick up rings for Shinazugawa and Kocho. Iguro Obanai,” Obanai said as he stepped up to the counter. The man behind the register glanced at the clock.

“Cutting it close,” the owner said disapprovingly. Obanai narrowed his gaze, but held back a biting remark. If it hadn’t been for the late notice on Sanemi’s part he would have been sure to come in a reasonable time. “They’re in the back,” the man said and tossed his long, curling hair behind him. Obanai sighed as he disappeared. 

Most of the display cases shone with bright lights. It hurt his eyes and he had to blink several times to adjust. The jeweler was in the back preparing the wedding bands. Most of the rings were shimmering gemstones. Sapphire, emeralds, topaz, amethyst, ruby, and every color under the sun. 

Obanai walked around the shop before he stopped in front of the pearls. They were soft and subtle compared to the other rings. He pursed his lips. Surprisingly there were a range of colors from white, cream, silver, dark charcoal, and even a black pearl. His hand hovered the case as he paused to observe an off white-almost pale gold pearl ring. It looked like a Tsukimi dango. 

At the tip of his tongue, there was a sweetness. The dango had been too sweet for him. It still was. His vision clouded with a picture of Mitsuri’s blushing face as he handed her the dango. In the lantern light, her soft features seemed gentler as she spoke of her family’s traditions. She tried to cover it with his haori’s striped sleeve and he was flooded with embarrassment. He reached out to hold onto the glass case for balance. 

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Her fingertips grazed his palm as she pinched the dango from his hand. Despite the glow of the moon, Kanroji outshined it. Her entire face lit up like the sun when she was happy. His body warmed thinking of ways to make her smile. Kanroji was the most beautiful person he had ever met. He had only known the Love Hashira for a short time, but he loved her all the same. The way her lips curled into a smile and her shining eyes bewitched him. 

Too bad she could never return his affections. The blood of the Iguro clan stained his hands and soul. The nails of 50 women bit into his skin to pull him down to Hell. It was where he belonged unless he was able to kill the Demon King. Until he was reborn Obanai did not deserve anyone’s love, especially an innocent, kind woman like Kanroji. Maybe in his next life.

“You deserve the moon,” Obanai said. His heart sped up. It was close enough to a love confession if he ever chanced it. He looked straight ahead. She would have preferred to be here with Kocho or Rengoku. They would have been better company. They would have been able to enjoy eating and talking late into the night. Unfortunately, Rengoku was on a mission and Kocho was busy working at the hospital. Mitsuri only invited him because she didn’t want to be alone. 

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This must have been the memory Mitsuri told him about. He had read the situation wrong back then. Had he truly been so blind to her affections? Yes, only because of his self imposed isolation and innate belief he was undeserving of love. Whether it be familial or otherwise. It had never been true. He stared at the pearl ring, unable to look away. Behind the mask, he licked his lips. If he bought a pearl ring would it count as giving Mitsuri the moon?

“Did you want to look at one of the rings?” The shop owner asked, breaking Obanai’s train of thought. The shop owner stood in front of him and set two maroon velvet boxes onto the case. Obanai nodded and pointed to the ring he’d been staring at. The man slid the case door open, the rings jingling against the door. He pulled out the plush velvet display and handed Obanai the ring. 

It had a simple gold band with small diamonds surrounding the pearl. Would Mitsuri even like this? Her style was eccentric with a vintage edge. He pinched the band between his thumb and index finger, weighing it and the implication. This ring would be the physical embodiment of their promise. He looked at the price tag, his eyes widening before he gently placed it back into its spot. 

“Thank you so much,” Kanae said as she opened the front door. Obanai held the ring boxes in his sweaty hands. “Shinobu was able to get an earlier flight, so I wanted to make sure I was here. Come in, please, they should be here in a few minutes.” She ushered him into the house. He stepped over the threshold hesitantly. He could spend a few minutes here and see Shinobu. She knew about their past lives. They’d been friends according to Mitsuri. Maybe they could be again. Besides, Mitsuri would be at work until 4 P.M. at least. 

“I was working on the centerpieces for the reception,” Kanae said as she walked into the dining room. The table was covered in fake silk flowers, butterflies, moss, acorns, and tree branches. There was a stack of wood slices at the far end. Two completed centerpieces sat on the other end. On top of the wood slice was a tree branch with wisteria flowers draped over it along with a green butterfly perched at the top of the branch. Below the branch, there was a pile of moss and acorns. 

“It’s pretty,” Obanai said, pointing to the finished centerpiece. Kanae beamed. “The wisteria is a nice touch,” he added. 

“Thanks! I really wanted to use real flowers, but they would have had to be prepared the day of the wedding,” the bride said. He set the boxes on the table next to the wood slices. “We’ll have enough to do. Even now, I’m running a little behind. I wanted it to be done by the time Shinobu arrived.”

“I could help,” Obanai said before clearing his throat, “if you wanted.” Kanae blinked, somewhat surprised by the offer. 

“Yes, please,” Kanae said. She showed him how to set up the branches, attached the silk butterfly and flowers to it and then arranged the greenery on the wood slice. Her hands moved quickly, but he was able to follow without issue. 

They worked in silence. He sat down and prepared it like he was plating one of the desserts at Nichirin. It required precision and delicate hands to ensure everything would fit on the wood without looking chaotic. 

Every once in a while he could sense her watching him. Previously, he would have been unnerved by a woman watching him, but Kanae calmly observed him. He attached the last piece of moss to the wood before turning to the bride for her to inspect. Her light purple eyes examined the centerpiece. 

“It looks good,” Kanae said and placed his next to the other ones. “I would have asked Mitsuri to help, but I’ve depended on her for so much already.” 

Mitsuri acted as her maid of honor, which was a job in itself. She had to be Kanae’s confidant, organizer, consultant, and mediator. Of course, Mitsuri never complained about it. Well, except for trying to act as the mediator between Kanae and her extended family. Apparently, wedding dress shopping had been a nightmare. Obanai ran his fingers over the seams of his pants before responding. 

“She would have been happy to do it,” he said. The words felt forced, but he had to make an effort. “She would do anything for her friends.” Instead of looking away, Obanai met Kanae’s gaze. 

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Kanae asked rhetorically, a fondness simmering under her light eyes. “She would bend over backwards over any of us. The first time we met, I forgot to read the second act of Shakespeare’s Tempest. Mitsuri gave me a detailed summary right before class along with her annotated notes. They were mostly doodles, but they made it easy to understand.” The corners of her eyes softened. Behind the mask, Obanai smiled thinking of Mitsuri explaining the play. She probably added sound effects too. 

“She’s been hurt in the past by her partners, so please protect her, Obanai,” Kanae said earnestly. The intensity behind her gaze almost intimidated him, but it came from a place of love for her friend. Kanae was a kind and nurturing person despite the small fights Sanemi and Kanae got into. Soft and patient, yet willing to stand up for the people she loved and respected. Much like Mitsuri was. 

“I will,” he promised. Before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang. 

“They’re here!” Kanae jumped up and ran towards the door. Obanai turned in his chair and stood up. He pulled out his silicon snake toy to ease his nerves. It was only Shinobu and whoever her boyfriend was. 

Kanae opened the door and let out an excited squeal before embracing her sister. Obanai didn’t register anything they said as he recognized the other person standing at the doorstep. A man with long raven black hair and calm dark blue eyes. They were nearly vacant as he watched Shinobu and Kanae hug. He was holding a bag of salt water taffy. 

“Tomioka,” Obanai said. Tomioka’s gaze shifted and found Obanai standing at the edge of the dining room. 

“Iguro,”  Giyuu greeted with a neutral voice. If Obanai didn’t believe it yet, he did now: The universe had a wicked sense of humor. He may not have shown up on Obanai’s doorstep, but he sure as hell showed up on Sanemi’s. 

Chapter Text

Blank. 

Numb. 

Hollow. 

Vacant. 

Emptiness.

Giyuu recalled this feeling-or lack thereof- as he met Obanai’s unnatural gaze. The first time they met Giyuu was stuck in a depressive episode… no, it’d been more than that. Depression, dissociation, and loneliness. He’d been a machine constructed of levers, pulleys, and pumps. In some ways he still was. It was the only way he could survive.

From the outside, Giyuu lived a spotless, squeaky clean life. His father, Tomioka Kaname, was one of the founders for Kanzaburo Electronics, a multimillion dollar company. It led the industry in assistive devices and drone technology. The newest model, Crow 1914, was set up to deliver personal letters and small parcels. Right now, the model was being tested in metropolises. 

Giyuu worked as one of their drone engineers in the American division at the Boston branch. His father tried to place him at headquarters in Tokyo as one of the lead engineers, but Giyuu declined. He did not want to be ridiculed by his colleagues for nepotism. If he deserved a lead position, he would earn it himself. 

During his formative years, they moved constantly. The Tomioka family never stayed at one place for more than six months. When he was in elementary school he struggled to make friends. He was a quiet boy and tended to be too realistic. There was a disconnect between them. When other kids were making up stories about witches, aliens, and samurai, he froze, unable to contribute. His creativity started and ended in the same line. 

Even when he did make friends, his family would already be preparing for their next move. They promised to stay in touch, but after one or two long distance phone calls they forgot all about the blue eyed boy. Giyuu would call them, but they never returned it. Were they ever really friends? 

Eventually, Giyuu gave up trying to make friends. Why bother getting attached to people who would inevitably lose touch? One emotional attachment torn asunder before it even had the possibility to take root and grow. It was better this way.

The only people he needed were his family, although most of the time his parents were absent due to work. His mother, Kiku, worked less, but even then his needs would fall to wayside. His sister, Tsutako, filled the lonely gap. She showered him with love and affection. Despite being two years younger than Tsutako they hardly fought. She was his closest friend and constant companion.

<><><><><><><><>

“You promise you’ll always be here, right?” Giyuu asked. They sat side by side on the couch watching Your Lie in April. She wore her maroon hoodie under the blanket and still complained about being cold. His sister lifted the remote and paused the screen before turning to face him. She shot him an incredulous look. 

“What are you talking about? Of course, I’ll always be here,” she said and squinted. Giyuu swallowed and rubbed the back of his hand. She didn’t get it. 

“How do you know that?” he questioned. The back of his neck tingled thinking of the what ifs. “You could get sick again. You could-” 

“The cancer is gone. It’s been gone for three years,” Tsutako cut him off. 

“But-” He pursed his lips and grimaced. 

“I know because I’m sitting next to you telling you I’ll always be here. You’re always worried about me, but you don’t have to be. I have too many things to do before I die.” Tsutako lifted her hand in front of his face. His eyes narrowed at the action. 

“Like this.” She flicked his forehead with her middle finger. Giyuu paused, unsure of how to respond. Did she really just flick him? “Who else is going to bother you? I can’t have someone else stealing my job,” Tsutako teased and stuck out her tongue. Giyuu laughed before sharing a smile with her. Maybe she was right and he worried too much. 

Except she was his best friend and knew him best. 

<><><><><><><><>

Tsutako lied. She got sick again. She had pancreatic cancer when she was in middle school. She was treated with radiation. Giyuu remembered going to the hospital with his mom and Tsutako. When Tsutako said she was scared he would hold her hand and promise he would always be there for her. Without her, he would be alone. Months later it went into remission and they thought everything would be fine. It wasn’t.  

It came back the summer before her senior year just after they moved to a new city outside of Osaka. He was going to be a sophomore. This time the cancer was more aggressive. They had to use chemotherapy in addition to radiation. He found Tsutako in the bathroom vomiting more times than he could count. He held her hair and rubbed her back. She told him not the worry and she would get over it just like last time. Her bright blue eyes shined and he believed everything would be fine. 

With the complications from treatment, their parents decided Tsutako would stop attending public school and take her classes online. Tsutako lost weight, shivering if a summer breeze swept past them on a short walk with their dog. Her immune system weakened. It wasn’t fine.

Giyuu asked to stop going to school to stay with her, but his parents refused. Tsutako also supported their decision. They wanted him to go to school so he could make friends, go to parties, join clubs, and all other nonsense they considered the quintessential high school experience. He only went to please them.

Back then, it didn’t matter what he wanted. Tsutako’s health was the priority and her parents gave the majority of their attention to her and her illness. They didn’t say it, but his parents expected him to manage on his own. Other than his sister, he relied on himself. 

On the first day of school he met Shinazugawa Sanemi. 

<><><><><><><><>

“Damnit,” someone half growled, half muttered. Giyuu looked up from his textbook to see a teen with messy white hair. He was resting his forearm on the vending machine glass as he stared at the stacks of chips, candies, and salty treats. “That was my last yen.” He made a fist and bumped the glass in frustration. 

Giyuu took out his wallet and found a 10000 yen note before going up to the other teen. It was the only cash he had on hand. “Here,” Giyuu said as he held out the money. The teen cocked his head to the side. His dark purple eyes were bloodshot as they narrowed on Giyuu’s face and then the note. His hand started to rise to take it and then Giyuu had to open his mouth again. 

“You need this more than me,” Giyuu said and gestured to his attire. The teenager’s clothes were poorly fitted, worn sleeves and threads coming off the hemlines. They looked like something out of a bargain bin. 

“What does that mean?” The boy questioned as his voice dropped. He stood up to face Giyuu, straightening his shoulders. Giyuu stared at him unsure how to respond.

His social skills were lacking and he got tongue tied around new people, so he was inclined to be quiet. His mouth twitched. His sister said she wanted Giyuu to have the best high school experience, making friends. Maybe they could be-No, it was no use. Friendships never lasted. He opened his mouth.

“Do I look like a charity case or something?” The white haired boy snapped and slapped Giyuu’s hand away. 

“It’s not-“ Giyuu attempted, but he could feel his throat closing. He offered the money again. “Take it,” Giyuu said, forcing his voice to stay neutral. “With what you have leftover you can buy new clothes or something,” he finished lamely and looked anywhere but the guy. 

That was the wrong thing to say. The other teen punched his fists together, making a smacking sound. “So, that’s it, huh? You pity others, so you can feel like some sort of savior,” he said through gritted teeth. 

It wasn’t like that. Not at all. If he could just get the words out. He coughed to clear his throat and then the bell rang. The white haired boy’s nostrils flared and pushed past Giyuu, bumping into his shoulder roughly. Giyuu rubbed the spot and sighed. He never made good first impressions… Or second or even third impressions.

<><><><><><><><>

Afterwards, Giyuu tried to isolate himself from the other students. It wasn’t like his family would stay here more than six months. Making friends and connections were obsolete. He took a seat in the back of every classroom and ate lunch in the library. Giyuu worried every time he interacted with others. They could be a possible vector and he could bring home an illness that could harm Tsutako. He washed his hands obsessively and tried to disinfect everything he could before he touched it. Other students ignored him thinking he was a germaphobe and a bit odd. It was fine, it was better this way. He could manage on his own. 

The teachers attempted to accommodate his self imposed isolation due to who his parents were. Giyuu went as far as to complete his schoolwork in the detention room. The teacher in charge of the room didn’t mind. That’s where he met Iguro Obanai. 

<><><><><><><><>

Textbooks and homework were spread over the desk as Giyuu scanned the book for a quote about Simon and Ralph. He had the room to himself, but the teacher said there would be two students coming in for in school suspension. With his right hand he jotted down the quote for his English literature assignment. There was the jiggle of the door handle and Sanemi walked through. 

They still didn’t get along. Sanemi made it his mission to glare daggers at Giyuu in the hallways after their first interaction and Giyuu tried to ignore them. There was something different about Sanemi this time though. His face was covered in gauze. Giyuu blinked slowly as he stared at his classmate. He had heard there was a fight, but he didn’t realize Sanemi had been part of it. Let alone knowing he got hurt. 

“Hey,” Giyuu greeted, realizing he had been staring for longer than necessary. Sanemi narrowed his gaze. 

“What are you looking at?” Sanemi snapped and sat in the seat next to him. 

“Are you okay?” Giyuu asked. Sanemi could not get offended with this question. It was to show concern. 

“What do you think?” Sanemi asked with irritation, raising a nearly nonexistent eyebrow. The hair was fair and difficult to make out with his messy bangs hanging over his forehead. Giyuu wrinkled his nose and nothing came to mind. He shouldn’t have said anything. Sometimes it was better to be silent. He focused his attention on his homework again while the hair on the back of his neck prickled from Sanemi’s intense stare. 

Another boy walked in, this one shorter than the first. He must have been the other fighter. Like Sanemi, his face was covered in bandages, but only the lower half of his face. He looked… eccentric to say the least. A yellow eye and a teal eye with choppy black hair cut at peculiar angles and lengths. He was about as put together as Sanemi, though his clothes were newer. 

Sanemi and the new guy exchanged insults, but there was a levity to their words. Why did Sanemi get along with this guy that he literally fought, but not him? Giyuu tapped his foot on the ground and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for friends. He didn’t need them. His chest tightened. 

That was right. All he needed was his family. His sister was at the hospital now getting her blood drawn. Each passing day she seemed weaker and paler. The fatigue from treatment was draining, but she still made sure to pester her little brother. His shoulders drooped. She was acting brave to soothe his worries when it should be the opposite. He should be the one to comfort her. His lips twisted as he made a decision. 

“Can I be dismissed? I should not be here with them,” Giyuu asked, glancing between Sanemi and the unnamed one. It’s not like he was stuck in detention. 

“What did you just say?” Sanemi cocked his head. His violet eyes flashed wickedly. “What do you mean by them?” he reiterated. Giyuu kept his eyes focused on the teacher, waiting for an answer. He hated being this awkward. It’d be better if he didn’t say anything. He just wanted to leave. Why did his parents and sister want him here? No one liked him. He would not make friends. He didn’t need or want them. The teacher took out a hall pass and passed it to Giyuu. Wordlessly, Giyuu gathered his stuff and exited the room. He was better off as a loner. 

<><><><><><><><>

Throughout his sophomore year, Giyuu was the target for Sanemi and Obanai’s ire. They glared at him in the hallways, insulted him in front of and behind his back, and even got into a few fist fights. Giyuu attempted to stay neutral, but sometimes Sanemi or Obanai would strike a nerve and he would offer a sarcastic response. They didn’t like that either and told him to not so kindly to ‘Fuck off’ on a regular basis. 

More likely than not, the Tomioka family would move again before his junior year and the boys would be a distant memory just like everyone else he’d met drifting from school to school. 

<><><><><><><><>

Giyuu stared down at the shogi board, monitoring where each piece was laid. If he used his knight to capture her rook then her king would be left exposed. The game was moving in his favor luckily.

“Have you made any friends?” Tsutako asked, cutting through the silence of her bedroom. There was a faint scent of her rose garden scented perfume. She sat across from him. His concentration broke as he looked up. 

Her face was shallow. Her cheekbones stuck out and her cheeks seemed gaunt. He could count the individual veins on her forehead. Nowadays she wore a coral colored beanie to hide her patchy hair. She started losing her hair at the beginning of October when the weather grew colder. Even inside the house, she wore her oversized maroon hoodie, using the sleeves to hide her thin wrists and the blue veins on her hands. 

Giyuu did his best to avoid looking at them for her comfort. Everytime she came back from a chemotherapy appointment, she slept for hours, drained by walking to and from the car and hospital. He swallowed. 

He saw the looks his parents shared when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Their brows furrowed, his mother’s bottom lip trembling, and his father’s navy eyes threatening to leak when they saw Tsutako walk up the stairs to go to bed directly after dinner. She’d only eaten a few spears of asparagus, a bite of rice, and three bites of chicken. As she walked up the steps she held onto the banister. If she didn’t, she might fall over. Every part of her seemed to be shrinking and there was no way to stop it. 

She’d promised she would always be there, but… his stomach dropped. He couldn’t think like that. 

“Yeah,” Giyuu lied. Her eyes lit up for the first time today and he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. “A few.” 

“What are their names?” Tsutako beamed, a soft light seemed to fill the room. Giyuu readjusted in his seat and moved his knight. She removed her rook and moved a pawn in front of her king. 

“Sanemi and Obanai,” he answered. He was glad of his monotone voice to shield the lies. “They’re in my literature class.” He edited their papers for grammar and punctuation. Sanemi still mixed up their and they’re. Did that count as friendship? 

What move was he about to make? Her question distracted him from the shogi board. He moved his lance one spot diagonally to shield his silver general. 

“What are they like?” Tsutako asked, moving a pawn. The best lies were the closest to the truth. 

“They’re into hard rock and martial arts,” he said. He had the bruises on his stomach and back to prove it too. Sanemi kneed his stomach last week after Giyuu corrected the way the white haired teen pronounced Façade in their engineering class. 

“You should invite them over sometime,” Tsutako encouraged him. “I’d love to meet them. We could make peanut butter brownies or play shogi!” She trapped his king. He smiled knowing she had been asking questions to distract him. He would win the next game. 

“Yeah, maybe during Winter Break,” Giyuu agreed, knowing full well that it was never going to happen. Now though, he wanted to make sure his best friend was comforted by a lie that he had friends if she were gone.

<><><><><><><><>

Towards the end of the first term, Tsutako showed signs of remission. Her lab values improved. She even started applying to colleges. Hokkaido, Kyoto, Kobe, and other high ranking universities. Tsutako hoped to go into the family business as a developer or engineer. It gave him and the family a semblance of hope. Unfortunately, it was lost and his sister broke her promise. 

“Tsutako,” Giyuu said as he knocked on the white bedroom door. He held a tray with two bowls of raspberry sorbet. It was her favorite. There was no response, so he knocked again, resting the tray on his hip. Still nothing. She must be sleeping. 

He sighed softly and opened the door as quietly as he could. He tiptoed in and set the tray on her dark dresser before walking up to her sleeping form. Her eyes were shut and he could see the outline of her gaunt features. She’d lost a significant amount of weight due to a poor appetite, nausea, and vomiting. Luckily, her latest blood draws were showing improvements. It would just take time for her to recover. Giyuu brushed her bangs away from her face, grazing her cool forehead. 

“Tsutako,” he tried again. Nothing. She didn’t even stir to push him away. “I brought your favorite,” he said louder. The space heater next to her bed blew hot air out. No movement. He raised his hand and touched her shoulder. Even through her pajamas she felt like ice. His brows rose. 

“Tsutako,” he said more urgently and shook her shoulder. He didn’t see her chest rising. Inside his stomach churned. The hollowness inside of him caved. 

Not breathing.

He used his other hand to push over the comforter to expose her arm. He checked her radial pulse. 

No pulse. 

His mind could not comprehend what was happening. His eyes widened and he heard a blood curdling scream. The sound of footsteps running up the stairs. The bedroom door slammed against the door stop as his mother appeared panting as she turned on the overhead light. Dark blue eyes flickered between her children. 

“Giyuu, what’s wrong?” She asked as she slid next to him. His sister’s lips were as blue as her eyes. 

“She’s not breathing,” someone else said, his voice quivering and his knees trembling. “I bought sorbet…” the boy said. His mother grabbed Giyuu’s shoulders and pushed him aside. The next second he blinked and he was being led out of the room. 

The last time he saw his sister she was laughing at a joke and saying she was going to retire early. Now his mother was sitting on her abdomen performing chest compressions. Rib bones crunching under the force. It would work, wouldn’t it? His best friend and sister couldn’t go like this. 

Even though she was sick, she said everything would be fine. It wasn’t. His throat closed, tears ran down his face, and he tried sucking in breaths. His heart was being squeezed painfully under the pressure building in his chest. Why couldn’t it be him? 

Not breathing. 

No pulse. 

Cold, blue lips. 

She’s gone. 

Gone.

Darkness consumed his vision as he collapsed to the floor. Giyuu only hoped his sister would take him with her. He didn’t want to be alone. 

<><><><><><>

The days after Tsutako’s death were murky. Giyuu didn’t leave his room for three days. He didn’t leave his bed except to use the bathroom, even that was exhausting. His mother sat on the bed and massaged his scalp while his father tried to talk to him. Giyuu stared blankly at both of them. They lost a daughter and he lost a sister. Nothing could replace her and there was no point in talking about it. He laid on his stomach and buried his face into the pillow as he cried. His face hurt from all the tears and racking sobs. His throat burned. 

How was he supposed to respond? Tsutako was gone. She was the only person who truly understood him. On the third day, his mother walked into his room. He barely registered her form as her weight sank the mattress. Her eyes were puffy from crying as well. 

“Honey,” she said, gently rubbing his back. “Tsutako would have wanted you to have this. You can carry a piece of her everywhere you go.” He lifted his head to see Tsutako’s maroon hoodie on his nightstand, neatly folded. He reached out from under the thick covers and pulled the hoodie under. It smelled like a rose garden just like his sister’s perfume. 

“I’m worried about you. We all loved her, but lying in bed all day isn’t going to bring her back,” Kiku said, shutting her eyes. The muscles in her neck tensed as she held her tears at bay. 

“You were always the one we didn’t have to worry about. You never had issues and were so independent,” she said. “Please, Giyuu, I can’t lose both of you,” she pleaded as her voice cracked. She covered her face. 

There was nothing he could say to make her feel better without lying. The last time he lied was to keep Tsutako from worrying about him. He could afford another lie if it helped his mother. 

“I’ll be better,” Giyuu said weakly. “I promise.” The words rang hollow in his ears, but not for his mother. He pushed the covers off. The cool air chilled him and he donned his sister’s hoodie. It was a small comfort for an otherwise empty teen. 

<><><><><><><><>

After Winter Break, Giyuu returned to school. Everything seemed to have a grey filter. The clouds, sky, classrooms, and even the people. Other students tried talking, but he couldn’t process what was being said. He nodded or shook his head in response. Inadvertently, he was pushing them away. Even the teachers’ voices came out gurgled during their lessons. He stared blankly at the white board or projector screen as they talked like the Peanuts’ cartoon adults. 

During the school day he wrote down the class assignments and then stole away to the library to finish his work. He avoided others. The only time teachers would address concern would be if his grades started slipping. As long as he kept up appearances no one had to know how empty he was. His stomach turned in on itself whenever he ate. He barely managed to eat more than a few bites at a time.

He wore Tsutako’s maroon hoodie as armor. He still felt as if a part of her was alive when he had it on. Maybe it was unhealthy, but every once in a while he would catch the rosy scent and the world would return to color. A blend of blue, red, and yellow. At least until he remembered he wouldn’t be able to run home to tell Tsutako about what he learned at school or play shogi together. 

Tsutako wasn’t coming back and he wasn’t fine. He was a machine running on fumes. His heart pumped blood in and out to his muscles and organs, but he was a hollow structure. His brain was on autopilot. Get up, get dressed, go to school, do homework, rinse and repeat. Eventually, that was too much to handle. 

He stopped eating, wasting away like his sister had. The headaches, hunger pains, and dizziness were nothing compared to the loss. Not that it mattered to a hollow thing like him. Nothing mattered. His parents were too busy grieving and planning their next move. His mother said she didn’t want to lose him, yet she failed to notice how he weathered away, slipping into the bank. If she didn’t realize the change in her son, then what did it matter? The world would be better off without him. He should just drown. 

Two months after Tsutako’s death, he failed to wake up, succumbing to the waters.

<><><><><><><><>

Giyuu felt as if he was wading through dirty swamp water. Every step he took he sunk deeper into the mud. It pulled him down under the current where he saw his sister. Her blue eyes were open, but they didn’t hold any warmth. They were empty. He grasped her hand and desperately swam towards the surface. If he could get her to the surface, she would warm up and everything would be fine. It wasn’t. 

Tsutako weighed him down, but he couldn’t let her go. Each stroke and kick in the water he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere closer to the surface. Giyuu looked down at Tsutako. Her lips were as dark as her eyes and her skin was pallid. Cold. 

No, no, no.

Please come back.

Stay with me! 

He tried to scream, but under the water he couldn’t. His lungs were ready to burst from lack of oxygen. He was going to drown.

<><><><><><><><>

“That’s my spot,” someone said and nudged Giyuu’s foot. Giyuu glanced up. Everything felt heavier now. Extending his neck was a chore. He sat on the floor of the day room of the psychiatric hospital. He chose this spot to be left alone. The other patients preferred sitting in the couches or chairs and talking amongst each other. The person speaking had faded peach hair and lavender eyes with distinct dark lashes. 

“Huh?” Giyuu asked in his daze. His mind crawled at a snail’s pace. His vision glazed over due to the mixture of medication they handed him. The other teenager scratched the back of his head and sighed. 

“This must be your first trip here. Welcome to grippy sock vacation,” the boy said, pointing to his feet. He was wearing the bright yellow grippy socks every patient was issued. Then he crouched down beside Giyuu. “What brought you in?” 

“Suicide attempt,” he answered automatically. That’s what his parents called it along with the doctors, nurses, and psychologist. He didn’t actively harm himself, he just stopped eating. The report said his mother found him lying in his bed, just like she found his sister. His heart stuttered thinking of the way it must have scared her thinking she found both of her children dead in their beds.

“Hmm, did it work?” The other teenager asked, raising one eyebrow and his lips forming a thin line. Giyuu blinked in disbelief. “I mean, I could be a hallucination for all you know.”

What did he just say? Giyuu’s heart raced and his body froze. Was he dead? If he was, where was Tsutako? He felt like a fish as he opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to form a response. If this was a hallucination, why was he sitting in a psychiatric hospital with some guy he didn’t know? 

Amusement sparked in the other boy’s eyes and he grinned. “I’m fucking with you,” he said. “You have that glazed donut look. Sometimes it helps to shock your nervous system to get you out of that. I’m Sabito.” 

The peach haired teenager sat down and offered his hand. Giyuu felt his lips pull back into a small smile at this ridiculous guy. It might have been the first time he felt a glimmer of humor since Tsutako. Guilt filtered through, trickling in like a stream. 

“Tomioka Giyuu,” he replied. “What’s your surname?” 

“No last name. Just Sabito,” he answered and drew his hand back. “Why’d you try to commit suicide?” Sabito asked point blank. It was as if he had no boundaries. Giyuu glanced around the room. There were a few other residents sitting on the couches, listening to music, or talking with each other. One of the nurse aids sat in the day room making puzzles with the patients. She was too absorbed by the activity to notice Giyuu sitting on the ground. Didn’t Sabito have anyone else to talk to? Surely there were better options than the guy sitting on the floor. Granted, Sabito called this his spot. Giyuu shook his head. 

“Oh, right, I guess I should explain why I’m here first. Manners and all that. This is my second trip here,” Sabito said and pointed to his temple. “I have hallucinations. I see monsters. The latest one was a nasty green one with at least fifty arms attacking a girl. I tried to help her and attacked him. While I was fighting it, I ended up hitting my mom’s boyfriend. He tried to calm me down, but it didn’t work, so I was sent here. I’ve been here for a month. At first, I was isolated because they were worried I was going to attack someone. Now, that the meds have kicked in, I can bother people like you.” Sabito smiled almost warmly. 

What an odd guy. 

“I’ll be getting out on Saturday. Your turn,” he explained and pointed to Giyuu like he was passing a ball. 

“Uh,” Giyuu started. He looked down in his lap. They gave him a set of long paper pants and t shirt. He didn’t have to answer. The wound was still too fresh. Before Giyuu could respond, Sabito flicked his forehead. Giyuu froze as he recalled his sister doing the same thing. It was her form of affection when Giyuu was lost in his own thoughts. Much like now. His mind lit up briefly. 

“It helps if you talk about it. That’s the whole reason you’re here. Everyone has shit going on. Instead of holding it in, let it out. If it makes you feel any better, you’ll never see me again when I’m discharged,” Sabito said. Giyuu met his gaze. That’s why he was Just Sabito. It would be easy to Google Sabito Last Name, but not Just Sabito.  

Was Sabito right? Would it be easier to talk about it instead of keeping every memory of his sister to himself? Giyuu swallowed. Maybe he could say one thing just to get this guy off his back. 

“My sister died,” Giyuu said, his stomach twisted painfully. Sabito hummed in understanding and crossed his legs, sitting directly in front of Giyuu. It was hard to look away from his intense stare. Sabito waited patiently for Giyuu to continue. 

“She was my best friend and she’s gone,” Giyuu said as his voice cracked. Yet once he said the words, they didn’t stop and neither did the tears that fell down his ruddy cheeks. Giyuu told this stranger everything about Tsutako. Her kindness, humor, and hoodie. He started telling stories about their childhood that seemed unimportant, but solidified their bond as siblings. She taught him how to play shogi. There was the time Giyuu broke a vase and Tsutako said she broke it to cover for him. 

Another time they sneaked downstairs to look for their Christmas presents only to get caught by their father. He tried to chastise them, but the Tomioka siblings could not take him seriously. Their father was not the disciplinarian, so Tsutako mocked him. Their father’s face got redder and redder and Giyuu could not stop laughing at her antics. She had always been the brave one. 

Sabito listened to each story, nodding and smirking at the right times. It was odd. Usually, people were bothered by Giyuu talking, but Sabito was invested. His light purple eyes softened as Giyuu came to the worst part of the story. The ending with Giyuu finding her body and drowning in the aftermath. Sabito rested his chin in his hand, elbow perched over his knee. 

“So, what are you going to do now?” Sabito questioned. 

Now? What was there to do? The person he cared the most for was gone. His sister’s blue eyes flashed across his vision. Giyuu held his palm to his left eye to squash out the image. They were still there even when Giyuu shut his eyes. 

“I should have been the one to die,” Giyuu murmured, gritting his teeth as his heart sank. His chest tightened. “I should have died with her.” 

“Wrong answer.” A voice rose from the depths. Sabito poked Giyuu’s left cheek, which forced him to open his eyes. “Let me ask this again, what are you going to do now? If you could do anything in the whole world, what would it be, Just Giyuu?” Sabito dropped his hand back to his knee and stared at the other psych patient. 

What did he want to do? Other than the obvious. He’d been a machine for so long to keep his emotions at bay. He never stopped moving long enough to answer. What did he want to do? At least for now. 

“Shogi,” he whispered. A wooden board with pointed game pieces materialized in his vision. It had been his favorite game. The knowledge and experience required took years to build on. Giyuu had prided himself on being a competent player and enjoyed the need to plan and execute 20 steps ahead. The rules and board never changed, only the players. 

“Then let’s play, Giyuu,” Sabito said and stood up. He brushed off his pants and then offered Giyuu his hand. 

“Alright, Just Sabito,” he said, taking his new friend’s welcoming hand. It was the first time he didn’t feel alone since Tsutako’s death. 

<><><><><><><>

“Oh, do you know each other?” Kanae asked, looking between the two men innocently. Obanai nodded as his shoulders stiffened, the muscles tensing and uncertain how to approach the other man. What was the protocol for meeting someone you bullied years ago? 

“We went to high school together,” Tomioka answered plainly, shutting the front door. His face had not changed at all. It was still pinched and ratlike with that vacant look. He wore a green button up and dark shorts. Obanai crossed his arms in front of his chest. How was he supposed to explain the rest of it? 

Sanemi and I hated this guy. He was full of himself and thought he was better than everyone, probably still does. We beat the shit out of each other when the teachers weren’t looking. Then he disappeared midway through our sophomore year. 

“Ah, so it’s like a reunion?” Kanae asked and clapped her hands together. Ignorance was bliss or so they said. 

“Yeah,” Giyuu confirmed, “you could say that.” 

The connotation of a reunion was usually between people who liked each other. This was not the case. The hairs of Obanai’s forearms rose. Then there was the other half he couldn’t even begin to explain. In their prior life, Giyuu was the same way. Pretentious, distant, and arrogant. His right eye twitched. He turned his attention to the younger Kocho sister. Shinobu was grinning ear to ear as she watched the two. She knew about their past lives then she knew about the animosity between the three hashira. What was she playing at? 

“I wasn’t expecting you, Obanai, but it’s great to see you,” Shinobu said. She slipped off her flats. “It’s been a long time. I was so happy to hear that you and Mitsuri finally got together.” Mitsuri must have told her that he knew. Then did Mitsuri know about Shinobu dating Giyuu? Her purple eyes flashed clearly amused by the events about to unfold. Tomioka approached Obanai and his eyes snapped to attention. 

“I brought saltwater taffy,” Tomioka said and held out the bag of candies. Obanai tilted his head, dumbfounded. Who cared about the taffy? Was this guy not going to mention anything else? “Boston is famous for it.”

Obanai took the bag and Giyuu smiled with a closed mouth. No, this was bullshit. He shut his eyes trying to maintain some composure in front of the sisters. 

“Your bridesmaid dress is in the guest room. Let's try it on and they can catch up,” Kanae said cheerfully, grabbing her sister’s hand. He heard the shuffle of feet as they walked down the hall, chatting merrily. Once they disappeared from earshot, Obanai furrowed his brow. 

“You haven’t changed much,” Giyuu commented, still smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Everything that spilled out of Giyuu’s mouth in the last five minutes sounded like he was the one that hasn’t changed. He wasn’t going to dignify Giyuu with a response to that. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” Obanai said, lowering his voice. 

“For the wedding,” Giyuu replied. Was he really this dense? Obanai had to fight the urge to facepalm himself. Mitsuri would appreciate the gesture, but she wasn’t here. 

“No shit,” Obanai said. His right eye twitched again. Tomioka was still an asshole.  “I mean, why is this the first I am hearing of you? There’s no way Sanemi knows about you and Shinobu,” Obanai said and put the bag on the table with soft thud as the pieces settled. 

“No, he doesn’t. If Sanemi knew, I wouldn’t have been allowed to come,” Giyuu said, glancing away at Kanae and Sanemi’s engagement photos on the mantle across the dining room table. “He looks the same too,” Giyuu commented, gesturing to the white haired man, “maybe a bit taller.” He looked back at Obanai and tilted his head ever so slightly. What was his point? Obanai’s blood simmered under his skin and he clenched his fists.  

“So, you show up unannounced? How is that any better?” Obanai asked. 

“Shinobu said Kanae would be the only one here to receive us. Shinobu and I were going to talk to her first about the situation and Kanae would tell Sanemi. She was supposed to act like a buffer between us. Clear the air so to speak,” Giyuu explained in his hyper formal way of speaking. 

Obanai tried not to roll his eyes. They planned on using Kanae as leverage. Kanae could act as the peacemaker between them. Sanemi would be less likely to punch Giyuu’s stupid rat face because Kanae would disapprove. Even then, it was a 60/40 percent chance he’d sock Giyuu when he walked through the door. 

It’d been over ten years since they’d been in the same room. He inhaled deeply and bowed his head. It’d been ten years. Despite what Tomioka had said about not changing, Obanai knew he had. A year ago, Obanai would not have hesitated to punch the man standing in front of him. Sanemi changed too, but there were no promises he would not react to this surprise. 

Show compassion for yourself and others. Dr. Ubuyashiki’s words echoed in his mind. Obanai tapped each finger to his thumb. In truth, he wanted to push Tomioka out the door. Learn to forgive. Obanai had not realized how much tension was in his shoulders until he forced himself to take measured breaths. 

Be better than the person you were the day before. He reminded himself of Gyomei’s words. Dr. Ubuyashiki and Gyomei were two of the wisest people he knew. 

“It’s a stupid plan,” Obanai said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sanemi won’t appreciate that he was lied to. If he sees you standing in the middle of his dining room right now, he’ll blow up, especially if you start talking.” 

What was Shinobu thinking? Three days before the wedding and she planned on ambushing the groom in his own home? She was smarter than that. The woman was a doctor for fuck’s sake. Though, she didn’t know Sanemi like Obanai did. Obanai glanced at the clock. 4:13 P.M. Sanemi would be home a little before 5 P.M. 

Though Sanemi didn’t admit to being stressed, he was. Seeing Giyuu would only make it worse and cause him to snap. Sanemi nearly snapped at Obanai’s cousin, but was able to control himself. He had not been personally affected by her. Giyuu was a different story. 

Sanemi didn’t talk about his feelings often. They had to be special occasions like when Sanemi asked for help to write his vows or when his father died. Sanemi’s father beat him regularly and Sanemi built up resentment and fury. He fought back, but his father had been a head taller and stronger. Obanai only found out about the beatings a little before his father’s death. In hindsight, he should have told Shinjuro, but Sanemi told him not to. If his father was reported he’d bring Hell down on Sanemi’s mother or his siblings. Sanemi said he could take it. They’d only been kids. They all had. 

“What do you suggest?” Giyuu asked. It was the first thing out of Giyuu’s mouth that didn’t irritate him. 

“Tell him before he sees you. There’s not many options left,” Obanai replied. “Keep your mouth shut. Every time you open your mouth, I want to punch you and Sanemi hates you more than me.” 

“Why?” Giyuu questioned, taking a step back. 

“Because you’re an asshole,” Obanai said. Why should he bother beating around the bush? It’s not like it was a secret. Giyuu frowned. 

“I want to explain myself,” Giyuu started. “I was going through stuff back then. My family-”

“What stuff?” Obanai cut him off abrasively. His initial reaction was to be spiteful. Everyone was going through shit in high school. What made Giyuu special? Sanemi’s dad died after Fall Break and Obanai was dealing with his demons. 

Be more compassionate. Obanai chided himself before sighing. 

“Go ahead, I’m listening,” he said, trying to relax his neck and shoulders. Be better. 

Obanai: I’m picking up the rings for Sanemi. 

Mitsuri: I thought he was supposed to.

Obanai: Kanae was going to, but Shinobu got an earlier flight. 

Mitsuri: Ahhhh, I can’t wait to see her. Maybe I’ll head there after work. Are you going to stay? 

There had not been a response for the past hour. Mitsuri pouted at her screen that read 4:24 P.M. Honestly, it was funny. Before this life, she waited anxiously for his letters. It stretched from a day to days even weeks depending on the distance. Now, she was disappointed if he didn’t respond in a few hours. 

She would just go over to Kanae’s house and see if he was there. If not, she would see him later. A forest green Mazda CX-5 drove behind her all the way there. At a stoplight, Mitsuri realized it was Sanemi. She turned her head and waved. He squinted his eyes, assessing her before raising his hand reluctantly in greeting. They’d arrive at the same time to greet Shinobu and Giyuu. This was so exciting to have everyone in the same place. 

When she pulled up to the two story house, Obanai’s white Jeep was parked across the street. The driveway was crowded with Kanae’s sedan and what seemed to be a rental car. An orange Subaru outback, it must have been Shinobu’s. Sanemi pulled into the driveway. She parked her Beetle in front of the Jeep. Mitsuri grabbed her bag and opened the door. Sanemi stood beside his car waiting for Mitsuri to enter the house.

“Hi!” Mitsuri greeted him. 

“Hey, it looks like everyone is here,” Sanemi said nonchalantly. He gestured to all the cars. Mitsuri bobbed her head once. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Mitsuri laughed when he grunted in response. “Have you met Shinobu’s boyfriend yet?” She asked as they headed towards the steps. 

“No,” Sanemi replied. He had never been much of a talker. At least not with her. Or when he did it was an insult. She fiddled with the ends of her hair. 

“Really? He’s a sweetheart from what she’s said,” Mitsuri said. Surely, Giyuu would be different from his previous incarnation. How had he changed? “I’m so excited to meet Giyuu.” She bounced up the steps and Sanemi tried his best not to roll his eyes at her antics. 

“Giyuu?” Sanemi repeated, his voice dropping to a lower octave. Right, Sanemi didn’t remember their past. 

“Yep, Tomioka Giyuu,” Mitsuri said. The man one step ahead of her stopped and his posture stiffened. 

Sanemi said nothing before he flew up the stairs. Mitsuri paused with her mouth open, unsure of what just happened. From her spot on the steps, she saw Sanemi throw open the front door. The door slapping against the door stop. 

There was the sound of commotion. Mitsuri chased after the groom to see Sanemi charging towards Giyuu with his fists clenched. Mitsuri screamed and raced up the rest of the steps. What was he doing? What was going on? She ran in and saw Obanai dash towards Sanemi and ended up getting hit in the process. She heard an elastic string snap and Obanai’s face mask fell to one side. He didn’t even bother to correct it in favor of stopping Sanemi. Sanemi got around Obanai and swung at Giyuu.  

“Stop it!” Mitsuri scolded Sanemi before huffing. Giyuu jabbed at Sanemi’s shoulder. Mitsuri finally reached the three men and grabbed Sanemi’s arm. With her strength, she was able to hold him in place. Obanai grabbed onto the other arm and blocked Sanemi from walking forward. 

“Get a grip, Sanemi,” Obanai said through gritted teeth from the strain of holding his best friend back. “Let him explain himself. Then you can fight,” Obanai tried to reason. 

“Or not fight,” Mitsuri chimed in, flexing her arms as Sanemi pulled against her. Obanai risked a glance at her. Despite the situation, her lips curled up slightly. 

“No, why the fuck is he here?” Sanemi snarled, trying to move forward. “I said no assholes at our wedding.” 

“Just listen,” Obanai demanded. “If you still want to punch his face afterwards, that’s between you two.”

Two pairs of feet ran down the hall. Kanae and Shinobu appeared. Kanae gasped seeing Obanai and Mitsuri holding onto Sanemi while Giyuu stood a few meters away from them. Shinobu’s eyes widened before she covered her mouth. Sanemi paused only to look over at Kanae. Her eyes were wide, her pupils constricted in shock. 

“What are you doing?” Kanae asked, staring at Mitsuri and Obanai holding Sanemi back from Giyuu. “What are you doing?” She repeated louder. 

“Fuck,” Sanemi muttered. He faltered with her words and shut his eyes. His nose wrinkled as a gale of emotions passed over his face. His muscles tensed one last time before he stopped pushing against Obanai and Mitsuri’s hold. Mitsuri stayed in place because Obanai didn’t release his best friend. What set Sanemi off? 

“You know that guy I hated in high school? That’s him.” Sanemi glared at the man in question. Recognition flickered in Kanae’s light eyes. They already knew each other. Why hadn’t Obanai said anything? She glanced at her fiancé. She had not mentioned Giyuu either. Mitsuri moved back as Kanae approached Sanemi. Kanae took Sanemi’s hand. Obanai stepped away from the couple and stood next to Mitsuri. 

His black mask hung to the right side of his face. The elastic string on the left side broken. His scars never bothered Mitsuri, but they still bothered him. He was taking attentive steps to better his self image. He’d only gone maskless at Sanemi’s bachelor party and when he visited her house after work. She reached up in order to pull the face mask back across his face before he grasped her hand. He cast her a sideways glance. 

“It’s fine,” Obanai whispered and brought her hand down to their sides. He was going to let everyone see the scars? A heaviness in her chest she had not acknowledged before lightened. Green eyes drifted down to their interlaced hands. His palms were sweaty and he squeezed tighter than usual, garnering strength and courage from their eternal bond. She wanted to praise him, but stopped to watch Sanemi and Kanae. They whispered, too low to be heard, but Mitsuri was able to read their lips. Or at least partially. 

I know, school, and asshole were the only words she could decipher. Kanae turned her head to her friends. “We’ll be back,” Kanae said and looked directly at Giyuu, “I’m sorry.” She led Sanemi by the hand to their bedroom. 

Tension hung in the air. Mitsuri and Obanai stood side by side while Shinobu made her way to Giyuu. No one spoke in the wake of the last few minutes. Mitsuri looked between Obanai, Giyuu, and Shinobu and brought her hand to her mouth to hide her expression. Silence always bothered Mitsuri and she felt the need to fill the void. What could she say? 

“Well, that was… something. Mitsuri,” Shinobu said. “I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Giyuu. Giyuu, this is Kanroji Mitsuri.” Shinobu pointed between the two. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Kanroji,” Giyuu said. Obanai clenched his jaw and took the broken mask off his ear. He put it in his pocket. “Would you like some taffy?” He picked up a bag of different colored candies from the dining room table. It was covered in crafting materials, moss, butterflies, artificial flowers, and wooden plates. 

“I’d love some! What flavors are they?” Mitsuri asked, higher than normal. Giyuu’s blue eyes lit up and untied the coral ribbon securing the taffy. 

“It’s a random assortment, but all the favors are good.” He reached into the bag and pulled out four pieces. Pink, greenish black, teal, and light purple. Mitsuri walked up to them with Obanai still holding her hand. Shinobu looked at the couple, taking note of Obanai’s scars, before she took the purple one. 

“This one is my favorite,” Shinobu commented and unwrapped the wax paper. “Lavender,” she said after eating it. Mitsuri grabbed the pink while Obanai reached for the black taffy. They released each other’s hands to open the taffy. No one commented on his scars yet. 

Mitsuri placed the taffy in her mouth and tasted the sweet notes and underlying peppermint. It truly was amazing. “Peppermint,” Mitsuri held a hand over her mouth and peered over at Obanai. His lips twisted after he ate the taffy. 

“Seaweed?” The chef whispered under his breath. Giyuu cocked his head and looked at the label. 

“It’s supposed to be the top seller bag. I guess I picked up the wrong one,” he said with a shrug. He looked back at Obanai’s face, assessing the scars. 

“Huh, that’s what was under your mask,” Giyuu said. Obanai glared at him, challenging him to say something else. Shinobu was quiet. “What happened?”

Mitsuri looked between them. Questions were likely to arise given the deliberate cut of Obanai’s scars. He had been hesitant to tell her because he thought she would be bothered, but gradually he opened up more and more regarding his past. Giyuu and Obanai weren’t close and from what it seemed there was animosity between the three men. It was up to him what he disclosed to others.  

“Long story short, my mother cut my face when I was younger,” Obanai answered. Giyuu opened his mouth to ask another question. “I won’t go into specifics if that’s your next question,” Obanai cut him off briskly. Giyuu’s lip quirked, but bowed his head, accepting his answer. 

“The Glasgow Smile,” Shinobu said. “It would have been quite the recovery process,” the doctor mused. Her interest in medicine and rehab extended past her job. “I’d love to hear about it when you’re ready,” the petite woman said. Obanai did not respond. A door handle jiggled, alerting the group that the couple was done talking. 

Kanae and Sanemi walked into the front room. Sanemi’s hands were in his pockets and his eyes were on the floor, but his expression was neutral. Kanae smiled apologetically at the group. 

“I think we should sit down and talk this out,” Kanae started and gestured to the chairs for everyone to sit down. “It’s three days until our wedding and I don’t want anyone getting a black eye, especially you.” She pointed at Sanemi who turned his head away with a short huff. 

Everyone took a seat. Sanemi and Kanae took the spot at the head of the table while the other two couples sat on different sides of the table. A bag of saltwater taffy sitting in the middle. Before Sanemi came in like a battering ram, Giyuu explained what happened their sophomore year. Like he said, he had been going through it. That and his social skills were shit. 

Obanai tapped each finger to his thumb. He nearly reached into his pocket for the silicon snake fidget toy until he remembered he put it in the Jeep’s center console. Sanemi watched Giyuu, unable to disguise his contempt as he tapped his fingers on the table. Kanae cleared her throat. 

“I want to start off by apologizing for Sanemi’s brashness. I understand things happened in high school, but it’s been over ten years since then. You’re different people, all of you,” she said, giving a pointed look to each man. Her facial expression didn’t change when she saw his facial scars and she didn’t ask any questions. “None of you were in good places. I doubt any of us were in all honesty.” A shadow passed over her features, but she hid it with a smile. 

“I’m sure things were said and misconstrued, so who wants to start?” Kanae asked, acting as the peacemaker. Mitsuri’s eyes shifted between the three men. Shinobu was smiling, but she seemed to be plotting. 

“I statements might help,” Mitsuri added when no one spoke up immediately. “They’re really easy. So, umm, I would say ‘I feel angry because they ran out of my favorite ice cream at the store’,” she continued. “Or ‘I’m really happy because Obanai made me omurice-wait, no, sakura mochi.’ Both are so good.” 

He couldn’t help, but be amused at his fiancé’s words. Of course, she would bring up food at a time like this. The corners of his eyes crinkled and her whole face glowed as their eyes met. Despite the universe’s humor, he was grateful it let him find her again. He hoped to find her in every lifetime. Her light illuminated the room with her bell like laughter. 

“Okay, I’ll start. I feel like Giyuu is still an asshole,” Sanemi said. Shinobu guffawed and Giyuu’s face remained neutral, studying his partner and shook his head slightly. 

“Sanemi, we talked about this,” Kanae said. His dark eyes focused on his bride before he exhaled. 

“Fine. I feel angry because Giyuu showed up unannounced to my house when he and presumably Shinobu knew I hated his guts,” Sanemi answered. Shinobu stopped laughing and straightened her posture in her chair. 

“Giyuu wanted to tell you from the start, but I said it would be better if you didn’t,” the doctor answered. “Looking back, it might have been better to be upfront. I worried how you would have reacted if I asked to invite him.”

“I would have said no,” Sanemi said and glared at Giyuu. “Well, Obanai said I should listen to what you have to say before I punch you. Start talking.” Giyuu bowed his head and took a deep breath. 

“I was never good at talking to other people,” Giyuu said. “I say the wrong thing or come off as an ‘asshole’ as you like to say. When I met you I shouldn’t have said what I said about getting clothes or needing the money.”

Sanemi’s eye twitched. From their talks in high school, Giyuu made Sanemi feel insecure about his family’s financial situation. Obanai knew Giyuu offered Sanemi money when they first met. Sanemi was too prideful to take handouts. Then there was time Giyuu asked why Sanemi didn’t have the money to pay for the school field trip. 

“I didn’t need it or your pity. Back then or now,” Sanemi fired back and gestured to his home. “You looked down on everyone. Sticking up your nose and othering us as if we were beneath you,” he spat. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Giyuu said, meeting Sanemi’s fiery expression with calmness. “I didn’t look down on you, Obanai, or anyone else. When I tried to give you that money, I sincerely wanted to help, but it came out all wrong. I never developed decent social skills because my family moved every few months. It was difficult for me to make friends. I was a shy, quiet kid to begin with and it was worse because once I made a friend we moved. It was pointless to make friends with how often we moved.” His nose wrinkled. 

“Should I feel sorry for you?” Sanemi bristled. He took everything Giyuu said as an insult without giving him an actual chance. “Your social skills suck, so wha-”

“Sanemi, cut your shit,” Obanai interrupted his best friend, pointing at him. They weren’t going to get anywhere with Sanemi’s attitude. “You agreed to listen, so listen.” Sanemi narrowed his eyes on the dark haired man before they bulged at the sight of his friend’s maskless face. It was the first time he looked at Obanai since he broke the mask. He made no comment, but there was an unspoken apology. 

“Thank you, Obi,” Giyuu said.

“Don’t call me that,” Obanai said instinctively. He may have listened to Giyuu’s story and stood up for him, but they were not friends. Besides, Shinjuro was the only one allowed to use that nickname. Mitsuri pouted at Obanai’s terseness. He clasped her hand in her lap. “Sorry,” he whispered only to Mitsuri. 

“Oh,” Giyuu said stiffly. Awkward silence. “When we met my sister was diagnosed with cancer. Her immune system was really bad. I worried I would get her sick, so I isolated myself. I thought it was better off to be alone, but I was wrong. She died during Winter Break.” He shut his eyes as if reliving the experience. Shinobu placed her hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. 

“Afterwards, I became more like a machine. Whatever I said came out as an insult. Like when I corrected how you pronounced words or mentioned your clothes or not being able to pay for things. I didn’t realize what I was saying. It’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation,” Giyuu said, pursing his lips. Sanemi leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. 

When Giyuu told Obanai the same story, Obanai saw the look on Giyuu’s face. He knew it all too well. Dissociating from the situation, memories, and feelings. Obanai wore the same expression when he recalled the events of the past that left him broken for years afterward. 

“My father died that year too,” Sanemi started. “It wasn’t much of a loss. He was a piece of shit and beat me,” he growled and his forearms flexed. “I was angry all the time. Whenever you talked it was monotone and judgmental. I already thought I was a piece of shit and whenever you opened your fucking mouth, you reinforced everything I ever thought. When I fought you…” He gritted his teeth. 

Sanemi never liked discussing his father or insecurities about the abuse or money. It was part of the reason Obanai and he got along as teenagers. Instead of talking through their situations, they acted out. Whether it was smoking pot, sneaking into old buildings, or breaking beer bottles. The fury that boiled inside both of them needed an outlet and Giyuu was caught in the crossfire. 

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” the white haired man admitted. “If one of my sisters or brothers died, I would have been- I don’t even know.” He leaned forward. “I don’t forgive you though.”

“And I never offered an apology,” Giyuu replied without pause.

Oh fuck, wrong thing to say. Obanai braced himself preparing to stop Sanemi from attacking Giyuu in the dining room. They could fight, but at least do it outside. Mitsuri stood up abruptly, knocking her chair back from the force, preparing to leap in as well. Her cheeks flushed as the chair smacked the floor. Nothing else happened until Sanemi barked out a laugh.

“I was right. You’re still an asshole,” Sanemi chuckled, “but I’ll let you come to the wedding.” Obanai relaxed, not realizing the tension he held in his shoulders and legs.

“I won’t deny it, but I brought taffy,” Giyuu said, changing the subject. His social skills were even worse than Obanai’s. He nearly facepalmed at the old Water Hashira’s words. Tomioka pushed the bag towards Sanemi, who grabbed a green piece. He bit into it and immediately spit it back out. 

“What the fuck is this?” Sanemi asked, brows lowering in accusation at Giyuu. Giyuu froze in place while Shinobu pulled the bag. Her purple eyes scanned the label and graph stating what flavors matched with colors. 

“Green is dirty socks,” she said, covering her mischievous smile with her hand. 

“I take it back. You’re uninvited again,” Sanemi snapped. Kanae rested her hand over his forearm in an attempt to stop Sanemi’s forehead vein from popping. 

“No take backs,” Kanae said. The rest of the visit was spent trying all of the taffy flavors. Most of them were edible, but the outliers were dirty socks, moldy cheese, and dog food. No one said anything about Obanai’s scars and even he forgot about them as they debated which flavor was the best. 

Mitsuri and Kanae waved goodbye to the couple before walking back into the house. They were discussing the centerpieces. The pink haired woman was dismayed to learn Kanae had not told her she needed help to the last minute decoration. Obanai and Sanemi stood in the driveway. Sanemi crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stared at Shinobu’s orange rental car driving away. 

“I still don’t like him,” Sanemi said gruffly. 

“You might have to learn,” Obanai said, shrugging his shoulders. Sanemi cocked his head. 

“Why?” Sanemi asked. 

“He’s going to be your brother in law,” Obanai said and gave Sanemi a shit eating grin. It would be cosmic justice for Sanemi and Giyuu to marry the Kocho sisters. Sanemi’s lips pursed and his nostrils flared. Amusement bubbled up as his best friend processed the meaning. His face shifted between horror and fury. 

“Oh hell no, take it back,” Sanemi growled. His lip curled. “Take it back, shithead,” he repeated and raised his hand to slap the back of Obanai’s head. Obanai ducked and caught Sanemi’s wrist and pinned his arm behind his friend’s back on instinct. 

“If you try to hit me again, I’ll dislocate your shoulder,” Obanai said, “I don’t think Kanae would approve.” Sanemi huffed and relaxed his body. 

“All bets are off after the wedding, shithead,” Sanemi said as Obanai let him go. 

“I’ll be counting on it, fuckwad.” Obanai grinned with his teeth. Sanemi laughed before smirking. Just like old times. 

Obanai shut down his Jeep and unbuckled the seat. He inhaled sharply and reached for the door handle before pausing. He should bring in what laid inside of the center console. He opened it with his right hand and grabbed the plum velvet box. Despite his better judgment and his bank account’s dismay he bought the ring. It had been an impulsive purchase. There was a possibility the ring didn’t even fit Mitsuri’s finger. Then he would have to get it refitted. He pursed his lips and opened the box.

The ring inside was a pale amber cream pearl with simple diamonds surrounding the center. He promised her the moon and this was the closest he would ever get. The shade, shape, and shimmer looked like a full moon. Just like the tsukimi dango he gave her during the festival. 

Would she like this or prefer something else? He should have waited. According to the jeweler, pearls were not commonly used for engagement rings. They were fragile and easily damaged from everyday use. It was stupid to buy if-

He shut the box with an audible snap and shoved it into his front pocket. The snap broke up his spiraling thoughts. If Mitsuri didn’t like it or it didn’t fit, he could return the ring. It did not need to be overly complicated. She already said yes to marrying him. That would have been the most difficult part if their circumstances were normal. He counted out three deep breaths to ground himself. 

When was he going to give it to her? There would undoubtedly be questions if she wore it now or to the wedding. By modern standards, they moved quickly even quicker than Mitsuri’s previous engagement. Five months of dating unofficially and already engaged. Mitsuri said there was never a perfect time, so why not now? 

He opened the car door and headed up the stairs to Mitsuri’s house. She had been right behind him, but he lost her at a stoplight. Obanai leaned against the porch railing and scanned the road for her green Beetle. 

In the humid heat, he was glad not to be wearing a face mask. He removed it earlier after Sanemi broke it. When Mitsuri reached across to cover his face again, she aimed to defend him, but he decided to take the plunge. Nearly everyone there had seen his scars. The only ones who didn’t know were Kanae and Giyuu. Shinobu saw his scars in their old life and she was a doctor. Giyuu’s question came from a place of curiosity, not malice. Kanae didn’t even ask about it. 

One day he would stop wearing the mask. Once he was more comfortable with answering the questions that arose. The people he cared about most knew the truth and for now that was enough.

Chapter Text

Last August

Kyojuro: Are you still here?

Obanai: No, I left an hour ago. 

Kyojuro: I was hoping to catch up! You’re coming to Dad’s next weekend, right? 

Obanai: Yes. Who else would cook?

Kyojuro: I’m a fine cook! 👨‍🍳 

Obanai: Don’t lie to yourself. 

Kyojuro:  😯 I’m not!

When Obanai didn’t reply after three minutes, Kyojuro knew there would be no response. After a 24 hour shift, he was ready to crash, but this was important. He checked his appearance in the mirror. He carried the same mane of yellow-red hair, bushy brows, and fiery eyes that every Rengoku seemed to have in the past few centuries. His mother once told him it was because she looked at candle flame for the duration of her pregnancy to ensure the flame like hair and gaze. He believed her, but he’d been five years old. He would have believed anything she told him. 

Smiling at the memory, Kyojuro pushed open his car door and headed up the steps to Sanemi and Kanae’s house. The engagement party was in full swing. Obanai would have wanted to leave the minute he walked through the door. The Kocho and Shinazugawa families were mingling in the living room. Sanemi nodded to him in greeting as he talked with his mother and sisters. Kyojuro went up to the future groom and his family. 

“Good afternoon,” Kyojuro greeted them loudly. Sanemi’s mother, Shizu, laughed and embraced him like one of her children while Sanemi’s younger sisters smiled.

“Sanemi said you just got off of work. You didn’t need to come after a long shift, but it’s great to see you, Kyo-chan,” Shizu said, extending her head to squeeze his upper arm affectionately. She had always been a petite woman and barely reached his shoulders. Her hair was grey with a few strands of black and she wore blue tortoiseshell glasses.

What would my mother have looked like now? A stray thought filtered through. Would her hair be greying like Shizu’s? Most likely. It was in the ordinary moments he was caught off guard by the sense of loss. In fact, he was nearly the same age as his mother before she passed. A frog caught in his throat and he shoved it down. Not the time. 

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Kyojuro replied with a wink and Shizu blushed lightly. Sanemi gave his friend a sideway glance. 

“No flirting with my mom, Kyo-chan, ” Sanemi warned, narrowing his purple eyes. Shizu shook her head and swatted at the air in front of her son’s face. 

“Don’t be silly, I’ve known him since he was a boy, San-san,” she chided. Sanemi’s face reddened at the old nickname. Sanemi could be volatile, but when it came to his mother and siblings he treated them with the utmost respect. Since Kanae and him got together, Sanemi’s been less reactive and trying to manage his anger better. He exhaled through his nose. 

“How about you head downstairs? Kanae should be there. Tengen and the wives are coming soon. Or should be, you know how they are,” Sanemi said, regaining his composure. “I’ll be down in a bit.” 

“I’ll see you down there,” Kyojuro said and turned away from the group. He walked down the steps ready to engage in conversation with whoever he recognized first. Before he could scan the lower level, he heard a familiar voice. His head snapped in the direction of the melodious voice. Days ago Kanae told him her maid of honor would be attending the engagement party. She moved in a few weeks ago and finally settled in. 

She looked the same as ever with her pastel pink hair, light green eyes, and blushing face. No, not exactly the same, she grew old enough to have laugh lines. The corners of his eyes formed tears and he had to rapidly blink them away. It took everything in him not to run over, pick her up, and spin her around like a long lost friend. He smiled wider to hide his disappointment as Mitsuri’s gaze found his. She looked startled, but returned a shy, polite smile. 

She didn’t recognize him as her friend and mentor. Pins and needles crept over his neck. It stung, but he should have guessed as much. No one remembered their other life. It’d been a bitter pill to swallow as a preteen, but now that he expected it it went down easier. 

Obanai, Sanemi, Kanae, Tengen, Makio, Suma, Hinatsuru, his father, and brother didn’t remember their lives in the Corps. He had yet to meet Shinobu due to her residency in Boston. Muichiro and Gyomei had not appeared yet, but that was no surprise. They were the youngest and oldest of the Hashira. He hoped they would show themselves eventually. The only person he suspected that remembered their lives was his mother. They never spoke of it, but the way she mentioned looking into the flames made him wonder. 

Before he met Obanai, he dreamt of being the Flame Hashira. A man of undeniable strength and spirit who protected everyone until his last breath. When he was ten years he dreamt of a dark haired boy who covered his face with bandages. His appearance was an oddity with a gold and teal gaze. Shinjuro said he rescued the boy from a snake demon and he would be staying with them. He was quiet most times and scared of new situations and women. 

In Kyojuro’s past life, Ruka had been alive when the boy came to live with them. The boy watched her carefully when she entered any room, keeping his distance. He always made sure she was on his left side and startled when she approached from his right. Kyojuro learned later the boy was nearly blind in his gold eye. Despite his fear, Ruka adopted him as her son. Before she died, she asked Kyojuro to protect his father and brothers. He promised he always had and would. He protected everyone.

When she passed, his father became a shell of himself. He went through the motions of being a person and provided Kyojuro and Senjuro with their basic needs. However, Shinjuro was emotionally distant and fell into a pattern of drinking every night. In what he thought were dreams, Kyojuro had seen this version of his father in the dreams and was able to handle the drastic shift. He should not have had to. He had only been a kid, but he promised his mother.

His father and mother were soulmates. He saw it in the way they shared looks across the dining room table when Kyojuro was prattling on about something he learned about in school. The flames in their eyes mirrored each other. A steady campfire mirrored in the depths of the home’s hearth. Kyojuro could only imagine what it must have been like for his father to lose the person he loved most in the world and powerless to prevent it. Shinjuro fought fires and demons, but he could not fight the demon called cancer that took his wife. He had felt useless. Months after Ruka’s death, Shinjuro stopped drinking and did his best to return to his role as a father. Even more so after Shinjuro brought Obanai home. 

In his current life, the moment Kyojuro met Obanai everything clicked together. It was nearly a year after Ruka died when Shinjuro rescued Obanai. This world was similar to the previous one, but the connections, timing, and events were altered. Shifted to fit the modern era. Without missing a beat, Kyojuro tried his best to befriend the older boy. He talked endlessly, even going as far as to mention fighting demons and breathing styles. Obanai didn’t recognize the references and told Kyojuro to shut up. He shook his head at the memory of Obanai crawling out from underneath the bed to yell at him. 

Looking at Mitsuri, Kyojuro wondered if Mitsuri met Obanai today. If they had, did their feelings return? Neither Mitsuri nor Obanai disclosed their feelings to Kyojuro, but it had been obvious. The first time they met Obanai fell for the Love Hashira, but denied himself a future. Meanwhile Mitsuri greatly admired the Serpent Hashira, but refused to confess. The most they would allow themselves was writing letters and eating meals. 

There had been a day when Kyojuro saw Obanai’s crow deliver a letter to Mitsuri. She gave the crow a treat and took the letter. She tore the seal and didn’t realize Kyojuro was watching her. As she scanned the paper, her smile grew and her eyes shined brighter than he had ever seen before. She brought the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. 

Though Kyojuro couldn’t hear what she whispered, he read her lips. Come home safe, Iguro-San. Then she pressed her lips to the paper. Her feelings were palpable to anyone with common sense. The truth of Obanai’s love was spoken under the guise of haikus.

He knew how their story would end before it began. One would die and the other would be devastated. It happened to his parents and countless other slayers. Being a demon slayer was a death sentence. 

Despite his sunny exterior, Kyojuro knew his role and purpose: Fight until the sunrise, protect the weak, and preserve the future. He fought until his body no longer listened to his mind. That demon, Upper Moon Three ultimately killed him. Sometimes he still woke in a sweat at the memory. His abdomen felt hollow and his left eye twitched recalling the wounds the demon with dark tattoos inflicted. The only saving grace was his mother’s welcoming embrace and whispers of how proud she was that he saved 200 train passengers and his fellow slayers. He accepted his fate and walked into the Heavens with his mother. 

He never knew if they beat the Demon King and saved humankind. His faith in the Kamado siblings, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and the rest of the hashira made him believe they had. Though, no one remembered their other life, so his hopes were never confirmed. 

He brushed off the memories and made his way to Mitsuri. She was surrounded by a group of women including Kanae. The bride pulled him into the circle and held onto his elbow to introduce him to her sorority sisters. 

“I’m Kyojuro,” he introduced himself. He tried to remember all of their names as he shook their hands, but failed as his attention kept drifting to his old tsugoku. 

“Mitsuri,” she said, extending her hand. She held her hand to her lips as she listened to the conversation. They talked about their jobs, hobbies, and food. Mitsuri was quiet until Kyojuro mentioned sweet potato curry and rice. Her sorority sisters teased her about her ravenous appetite. Mitsuri looked sheepishly at Kyojuro self conscious around him. Something twisted in his chest realizing she saw him as a stranger, not one of her closest friends. 

“Eating is one of my favorite pastimes actually,” Kyojuro reassured her, patting her on the shoulder. Her cheeks tinted pink as she nodded and started talking about the upcoming school year. Her posture eased as she spoke animatedly about her future class and how she was going to decorate her classroom. She was as vibrant as ever when she discussed her passions. Mitsuri had been one of the few people to match his boundless energy. 

Before long Kyojuro excused himself to grab a drink. He weaved his way around the groups of people to find the refrigerator to take an Asahi dry beer. Obanai must have hated being here, but he agreed to come for Sanemi and Kanae’s sake. Even if he had not stayed long at least Obanai came into the house this time. Turning, he twisted the top off the beer and took a sip. His fiery eyes settled on Kanae and Mitsuri again. 

“Kyo!” Tengen’s voice boomed behind him. A shadow crossed over Mitsuri’s face. What was that about? The white haired man embraced his best friend and clapped his back. 

“Tenten!” Kyojuro said with the same vigor and hugged him tighter than necessary. 

“Is Kanae trying to set you up again?” Tengen whispered in his ear. “We still have time to run away together.” Kyojuro laughed at his best friend’s antics. 

“What would your wives say?” Kyojuro joked as they separated. 

“They’re all in,” Tengen said with a crooked smile. 

“Great, where are we headed?” Kyojuro asked. 

“Ibiza obviously. The nightlife and dance scene will astonish you.” Tengen never missed a step with these ludicrous conversations. “Give me the word and we’ll fly out tonight.” 

“Let’s do it!” Kyojuro agreed. Before they could escape the engagement party for warmer waters, Tengen spotted Mitsuri. 

“Have you met her yet?” Tengen jerked his thumb towards the pink haired teacher. Kyojuro nodded. “Have you thought about dating anyone? If so, she would be a great catch and I make an excellent wingman.” Tengen raised his eyebrows suggestively and held his hand over his chest. 

“She is, but not for me,” Kyojuro said, shaking his head. Mitsuri had been his student and he never thought of her as anything more. Tengen pinched her chin and squinted at Kyojuro. “There’s someone else I think would be better.”

“Oh, who? Let’s see if I play matchmaker again,” Tengen gestured to the party surrounded with purple and green decorations. He revealed Kanae’s feelings for Sanemi to the oblivious man and now they were set to marry. If so, what could Tengen and Kyojuro do for Obanai and Mitsuri? Maybe this time they could have a chance like Sanemi and Kanae. 

Current August

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“If you see Kanroji-san, send her in,” the Master said, dismissing the Snake Hashira after his latest mission report. He went to a village outside of Osaka to exterminate a demon who preyed on children. It played a flute to hypnotize children and lure them out of their homes. 

He gritted his teeth as he recalled the monster’s appearance. It had maroon skin with multiple eyes, mouths, and hands with a lyrical voice that mimicked the children’s parents. He was able to return two children to their families. They thanked him profusely and for a brief time he felt better. It never lasted when his family’s hands and nails clawed into his back in an attempt to drag him into the dirt with them. The Serpent Hashira should have been able to save all of the children. That’s what a better man would have been able to do. 

“Yes, Master,” he said, bowing his head before standing up. 

“And Iguro-san, please take the next three days to relax,” Ubuyashiki-sama said. “That is an order,” he added. 

He glanced briefly at the Master’s face. The disease that ravaged his family covered the top half of his face. The skin was raised and fading from pale to lavender marking it as a supernatural condition. To his knowledge, there was no disease or disorder that matched his symptoms and he was bound to get worse until he died or Muzan was killed. Obanai clenched his fist. 

Another reason to kill the Demon King. 

The Master mentioned starting to lose his vision at the beginning of the meeting when Obanai pointed to the slash he received on his left forearm. Obanai could empathize and touched the right side of his face. His vision had been impaired ever since he could remember. Who knew if he had been born that way or if it was something his family had done. Another mystery that would not be answered. 

“Of course,” he agreed. 

Obanai turned and walked out the door to see Mitsuri at the end of the receiving hall. Instantly, she looked up and her bright eyes shined in recognition. His heart sped up. The last time they saw each other in person was two months ago. They had lunch together at the soba shop where the shop owner implied they were a couple. Obanai hated how he had to correct shop owner, but there was nothing between them. There never would be anything more between them. 

“Iguro-san!” Mitsuri stood up quickly, nearly tripping over her feet as she rushed towards him. The misstep endeared her ever more to him. She was like this with everyone, he reminded himself as Mitsuri hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to touch her bare skin with his filthy hands. She smelled of sakura blossoms. Relief washed over him like a stream. She was one of the only people to calm his mind. The tension he held in his jaw relaxed.

“I’m so happy to see you! It’s been too long,” she said, squeezing once more before letting go. “We should go out for lunch. Wait, you’re probably busy. I shouldn’t assume you’d have time for me-”

“We can go after your meeting,” Obanai cut her off before she could ramble on, closing his eyes slowly. Whenever she was nervous, she would ramble and diminish herself. He would not allow her to. She was better than that. Mitsuri flashed him a smile. “I’ll wait here for you,” he said and sidestepped to allow her to pass by. 

“Alright!” Mitsuri said and walked past him, their shoulders brushing. Looking down, he noticed a few stray threads on her green socks. She had not mentioned needing a replacement, but knowing her she did not want to make herself a nuisance. He made a mental note to stop by the tailor to grab her a new pair. 

Obanai walked towards the hall’s opening to the courtyard. The sound of water trickling came from the pond in the middle. It was surrounded by greenery and violet flowers. They were sweet smelling. Kaburamaru nudged Obanai’s cheek and looked at the garden. Obanai went down the steps and crouched while extending his hand down. The ivory snake slithered down his arm to the grass. 

“You must need a break too,” he whispered. Kaburamaru flicked out his tongue twice in confirmation before making his way to the pond to sunbathe on the rocks. He stood and checked the knot securing his facial bandages. They felt loose. He tightened the knot before staring up at the sky. Normally, he would already be planning his next mission, but now it was quiet. 

For the next three days, Obanai was ordered to relax before he would be given his next assignment. The Master said he appreciated Obanai’s spirit and determination, but he needed to take time to rest otherwise he would wear himself out. That was his purpose. If he was busy he never had to worry about or contemplate the past or his shortcomings. 

Ever since Kyojuro was killed by Upper Moon Three Obanai was diligent and attempted to fill the gap the Flame Hashira left. The Corps felt his loss to their core. Kyojuro brought people together by treating everyone equally and made them feel seen . His death lit a fire inside of every Corps member, reminding them of their goal and reason for existing. Despite his over the top, bordering on obnoxious behaviors, Kyojuro was one of Obanai’s closest friends. If Obanai could not make up for his loss, who could?

Another person cut across his vision, Senjuro sweeping the engawa. He grimaced thinking of the younger Rengoku. Kyojuro trained him, but demon slaying never called to Senjuro as it did for his brother. He was soft hearted and more likely to tend to the wounded than kill demons. Senjuro was more like Ruka than Shinjuro.  

During this rest period, Obanai decided he would make arrangements to see Senjuro and by default Shinjuro. He exhaled heavily, thinking of the man who saved his life nine years ago. Shinjuro fell into despair after his wife died. An unknown illness wasted her skin, flesh, and bones until she could barely walk or feed herself. Two weeks before her death, Shinjuro carried her from room to room, even going as far as to switch her bedrooms to ensure she could enjoy the sight of the sunrise each morning. 

At the time, Obanai was still terrified of women, so he seldom interacted with her. One morning he rose early and went out to the courtyard to watch the sunrise. The sun and its rays never failed to enchant him. How could he not be when he’d been shut inside his entire life? In the light his family’s wretched hands could not reach him. Kaburamaru hissed sharply and pointed his tail towards the engawa. His stomach tightened as he registered a woman’s dark hair and carmine eyes. Ruka leaned back against the column, covered in blankets and her face was gaunt. He expected to see an overly wide smile like his mother, but her face was neutral, staring at the same sunrise. 

“Good morning,” Ruka greeted him, glancing at the boy in the courtyard. His mouth twisted uncomfortably and his wounds pulled on his cheeks. Obanai tried to control his breaths as he prepared a response. “You don’t have to speak unless you want to. I suspect you came for the same reason I did. My sunrises are numbered, but yours are infinite...Let’s enjoy this while we can.” Ruka gave him a weak smile and he nodded, unable to find words.

Before she died, Obanai would wake up before dawn and watch the sunrise with Ruka. It was a companionable silence between them and on the last morning he gathered the courage to greet her. The warmth in her eyes could have only been compared to the home’s hearth. Looking back, that moment might have been his first positive interaction with a woman. 

A breeze rustled his haori and he looked back into the receiving hall. Mitsuri was bowing her way out of the door with her hands raised. Did the Master tell her about his failing vision? Most likely, but it wouldn’t have mattered to Mitsuri. She treated everyone the same regardless of ability. 

She shut the door and rolled her shoulders once. Mitsuri turned, searching for the Serpent Hashira. “Are you still here?” She wondered out loud, almost singing.  

“I’m here,” Obanai said, raising his voice a hair. Mitsuri walked down the steps to meet him in the courtyard. “How was your meeting?”

“Good. I told him about the couple I saved. They were so sweet,” Mitsuri said. “They gave me a new recipe for pancakes. You’ll have to come over to try them soon. Are you busy tomorrow?” 

“No, the Master insisted I rest until my next mission,” he answered. 

“Ah, in that case you should definitely visit me!” Mitsuri said excitedly. “My sword broke, so I have to go to the swordsmith village,” Mitsuri said. “Though, I have to wait until Urara comes back with instructions for the kakashi. I’m excited to go to the hot springs again. Have you used them before?” 

“Once was enough,” he answered and snapped his fingers to grab Kaburamaru’s attention. The snake lifted his head and slowly slithered his way towards the hashira. Obanai despised being completely exposed to the elements, villagers, and potential demons. The village itself was carefully hidden. Special measures were taken to prevent anyone from knowing the direct route. Several kakashi and crows were switched out during the trip. Obanai suspected several detours were taken to fool anyone from memorizing the route. Demons didn’t know how to find the village, but there was always the risk their strategies would fail. One weak link in the chain would be enough for the demons to ambush the village. 

“Before we go to lunch, can we make a detour?” Obanai asked, switching topics. Mitsuri was already nodding before he could explain what the detour was. It tugged at his heart the way she wanted to run errands with him. “I need to drop off my haori at the tailor to fix some patches,” he said then pointed at her socks. “Plus, I promised to buy you a replacement pair.” 

“You don’t need to. I think these can last another mission,” Mitsuri said before looking down. Mitsuri’s hand touched the edge of her socks. The green fabric was starting to wear thin in the knees and there were frayed strands over her thighs. She glanced up again, knowing she had been caught in a lie. Obanai nearly laughed at how cute she was acting, but didn’t. She would be more embarrassed if he acknowledged it. 

“Since I’m going to the tailor anyway, doesn’t it make more sense to buy a replacement now? Especially if we don’t see each other for another two months. How many missions will you go on before you need a replacement?” He questioned. 

“I suppose you’re right, but I wish it wasn’t going to be so long,” she admitted, fiddling with the hemline of her socks. “I like spending time with you. I-” The Love Hashira cleared her throat and stared at the ground. He nearly asked what else she had to say before Kaburamaru bumped his head against Obanai’s calf. He leaned over and the snake coiled himself over his friend’s shoulders. 

“You were saying?” Obanai prompted as he stroked the snake’s ivory scales. She pursed her lips. 

“I was just wondering what restaurant you wanted to go to for lunch,” Mitsuri laughed, but the light didn’t seem to quite reach her eyes. It was a partial truth. She had wanted to say more, but decided not to. What had she meant to say earlier? The question rested on his tongue, but quickly forgot when she spoke again. “There’s a Parisian cafe that just opened if you want to try something new.” 

When they went out to restaurants, Mitsuri enjoyed western foods even to the point she started learning the recipes at home. Obanai would order a cup of green tea or eat a small portion of his meal that could easily be slipped past the bandages. Even then he turned his head away from her and the other customers. 

“Sure,” he confirmed. The light returned to her eyes with his answer as they walked away from the Ubuyashiki estate. In moments like this he could appreciate the simplicity of an afternoon spent with Mitsuri. 

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Obanai laid awake in bed thinking about the dream as he waited for the alarm to go off. Outside of the part with Ruka, this memory was ordinary. There was nothing profound he learned about his past self in this dream other than how painfully obvious it was they had mutual feelings. He nearly wanted to slap his past self for his self depreciation and ignorance. Obanai ran a hand over his face as he stared at the ceiling. 

How many more times would he have dreams that seemed to be inconsequential? The only connection Obanai could think of was how he had to take Genya, Senjuro, and Kyojuro to the tailor to make sure the suits fit properly. Then he had to check on the Dojo and ensure they were prepared for tomorrow per Kanae’s request. He sighed. Or maybe he should acknowledge the beauty in the simplicity of the memory, instead of the regrets that usually followed the dreams. It was one of the few times his past self seemed at peace. Obanai pushed a strand of pink hair behind Mitsuri’s ear as she snored next to him. Perhaps he should take it as a blessing that he and Mitsuri had been able to spend any time together in their previous life. 

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

Obanai extended his arm behind him to shut off the alarm. 

“Mitsuri,” Obanai said and kissed her temple. She snuggled into his arms. “We have to get up now,” he said and rubbed her upper arms. His lover grumbled lightly before opening her eyes. 

“Why can’t we have five more minutes?” Mitsuri asked sleepily. 

“Because you said that five minutes ago,” Obanai reminded her. She pouted the same way Sushi pouted when he was told to stop playing with trash. Her cat never seemed to learn as evident when Obanai found him attacking a loose string last night. 

Mornings like these were his favorite. Lying in bed with Mitsuri until one of them had to leave for work and other errands. Watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest while he looked at the constellation of freckles over her cheeks. The simple act of loving her. 

“Come on, we can’t be late and it’s already-“ he glanced at her white clock on the nightstand “-5:50. I agreed to pick up Genya.”

She kissed him lightly before separating. The morning sun reflected in her eyes. Would he ever get used to this? He stroked her cheek. Loving her was as easy as breathing. Maybe one day he could normalize the bubbling sense of love and admiration he felt for Mitsuri. 

“And you need to go to work,” Obanai said. Her lips twisted.

“What if I played hooky and went with you instead?” Mitsuri asked, pushing herself up in the bed. 

“As much as I would love you to come, your students would be upset if you weren’t there and you’re the teacher. You can’t play hooky the first week,” he reasoned. “It would set a bad example.”

“What about next week?” Mitsuri laughed when he shook his head. 

“That’s up to you,” he said, pushing himself off the mattress to sit on the edge of the bed. Cracking his neck, he felt Mitsuri’s arms circling his shoulders and her chest leaning into his back. The weight and scent of her acted as a soothing balm. He raised his hand to hold onto her forearm.  

“I’ll go, but you have to promise we’ll spend the night together,” she whispered in his ear and rubbed his chest lightly. Tingles ran down his back. At this point, they spent the majority of their nights together. 

“Of course,” Obanai agreed. Mitsuri hummed and held him tighter before kissing his right cheek. She released him. 

“My house or yours?” She asked. 

“Mine. It’s closer to the venue,” he answered automatically. 

“Can you take my bridesmaid dress with you then?” Mitsuri asked, pointing to the light purple dress hanging over the closet door. He agreed and stood up to prepare for the day while Mitsuri went to feed Sushi. Her footsteps were followed by the jingle of the cat’s collar. He heard her cheerful voice as she greeted the cat accompanied by his meows. This moment would create another seemingly ordinary memory, but it was exactly what he wanted out of life. 

Obanai pulled off his sleep clothes and shifted through the dresser drawer she’d given him. All his clothes were in neat piles and split between white, grey, and black. He put on a loose grey long sleeved shirt and black shorts to prepare for the humid heat and pulled his hair into a high ponytail. 

They bounced back and forth the entire summer. Half of her wardrobe was at his home, littering the floor or hanging inside the closet. He bit the inside of his lip. Honestly, it would be easier to have her move in instead of switching between their houses. He would have to add it to the ever growing list of things he needed to ask and give her. The ring he bought sat at the back of his nightstand drawer. If he waited too long, she would find it like she did with his notebook. He smirked recalling how she ran to the restaurant just to tell him she loved him. No, this time he would make sure she was surprised. 

“It looks like the suit fits you perfectly,” the tailor said. He pinched Genya’s square shoulders and and pursed his lips before nodding as if affirming his own assessment. Genya’s cheeks reddened under the man’s scrutiny. “You look rather sharp,” he added. 

“Of course he does,” Kyojuro said proudly, placing his hands on his hips. Obanai cringed as the shirt stretched across his chest, the buttons threatening to pop off his broad chest. The tailor had already decided to put him in a larger dress shirt. Senjuro was in the dressing room switching into his regular clothes. 

“Uh, thanks,” Genya said. Obanai smiled behind his mask. The younger Shinazugawa was shyer than any of his siblings. When Genya was younger he tried to act like a tough guy, but over time the edges softened, especially after his father died. 

Per Kanae’s instructions, Obanai took a picture of Genya and sent it to the wedding party group chat. Sanemi and Kanae were running last minute errands and checking with the other vendors to ensure everything would be set for tomorrow. Kanae entrusted Obanai specifically with picking up Genya, taking his brothers and Genya to the tailor, and then checking in with the Dojo. She was the type of person to take on too many responsibilities and stress herself out unnecessarily. Mitsuri was the same way. 

Obanai: Sent one image

Kanae: 😍 AWWW, you look so handsome, Genya! Can’t wait to see you later!

Sanemi: You look like a butler

Kanae: Then you do too!

Obanai: Definitely a butler. 

Mitsuri: 🤩 I’m starstruck! 

Obanai slowly shook his head and smirked at his phone screen with Mitsuri’s response. She never failed to amuse him. He tucked his phone into his pocket before returning his attention to Genya. He was pulling on his jacket cuffs as the tailor stepped into his inventory room to find Kyojuro a new shirt. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for the best man’s speech,” Genya admitted, looking between the Rengoku brothers. “I’m going to get nervous and end up sweating through my suit.” 

Obanai could empathize. The thought of having 100 pairs of eyes on him sounded like a nightmare. Even with the progress Obanai made in the last year, public speaking still made his palms sweaty. 

“Obanai, do you think you could do it?” Genya asked. The chef started to shake his head, but surprisingly it was his youngest brother that spoke up. 

“You just have to be genuine, right? You have always been good at expressing yourself,” Senjuro said. Genya nodded though his face was still red. 

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Kyojuro tried to reassure him.

It was easy for the firefighter to say considering he was never at a loss of words. Obanai held his tongue. Kyojuro never intended to come off as insensitive, but his absolute confidence was a rarity. For people like Genya, Obanai, and Senjuro, public speaking was a nerve wracking experience. 

“I just…Once I get up there I’ll forget everything. I don’t want to disappoint Sanemi,” Genya admitted, glancing away from the group. Obanai walked up to Genya and Senjuro where they stood in front of the mirror. 

“You won’t disappoint him,” Obanai started, looking up at Genya, who was a head taller. “You know he’d never be disappointed in you or any of your siblings. For the speech, keep it simple.” Senjuro nodded in agreement. 

“Maybe you could practice with us to ease your nerves. Kyojuro could give you some pointers,” Senjuro suggested. Genya scratched the back of his neck and turned his head towards Kyojuro. 

“Would that be alright with you?” He asked. 

“Definitely. I’m ready whenever you are,” Kyojuro said, standing up straighter. “Speak from the heart and you can’t go wrong.” At this point the tailor walked through the door holding a white dress shirt.  

“This one should be a better fit,” he said, passing Kyojuro the larger shirt. “Mr. Shinazugawa and Mr. Iguro, you’re welcome to change now.” 

Obanai adjusted the suit’s cuff before walking back to the dressing room. He set his phone on the ledge and pulled off his black mask. His phone dinged and buzzed. It was a private message from Mitsuri.

Mitsuri: Oba, can I get a picture of you? 👉👈 If not, that’s cool. We’ll get pics together at the wedding. 

Obanai started to shake his head, but stopped. He held the phone up to the mirror and snapped one photo. It must have been the first picture he had without his mask as an adult. The last time he could vividly remember were the photos taken after Shinjuro rescued him from the official police report. They were stashed away in Obanai’s safe at the end of his closet.

Examining the picture, the facial scars were less noticeable. Just because he hid from his reflection for the last sixteen years didn’t mean the scars weren’t still there. They always would be. Objectively, they were unsightly, silver and pink lines, but they were part of him. He closed his eyes, recalling the warmth of Mitsuri’s thumbs caressing his cheeks. The memory brought forth a sense of comfort. 

In this life, he let her see every piece of his brokenness and she accepted him. The scars, internal and external. Her words and touches left him breathless. Each time they met she melted away his icy exterior. Dismantling his defenses and rebuilding them together. Obanai sent the photo to Mitsuri before he could overthink. Three dots appeared on the screen immediately. 

Mitsuri opened her mouth, surprised by the photo Obanai sent her. She hoped for a photo of him in his suit, but this was more. Tears threatened to pour. The grey suit with green tie fit him perfectly, but it was his face that drew her in. There was no mask. His gold and teal eyes looked almost shy as he smiled in the mirror. She had an album dedicated to them, but every image included his mask. How should she approach this? Her manicured nails clicked over the phone’s screen. 

Mitsuri: OMG 😍😍😍 You look so good!!! I can’t wait to see you tonight. 

Obanai: Thanks, what time should I expect you?

Mitsuri: After 5 probably…I have to swing by my house and take care of Sushi. I feel like I’ve been neglecting him 😓

Obanai: Do you want to bring him over? 

Mitsuri: Are you sure? 

Obanai: I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.

Mitsuri: Would it bother you? 

Obanai: No, but I’ll have to close Kaburamaru’s door until they get used to each other. 

Mitsuri: YES! That would make it so much easier! 

Obanai: Then I’ll see you both later.

Mitsuri: OKAY! 🩷 💚

Obanai: 🤍 🖤

Mitsuri kicked her feet under her desk and set her phone to the side. If Sushi was at Obanai’s house, she wouldn’t have to run back and forth this weekend. It would make everything easier. She blinked and reread the last few messages. 

Until they get used to each other.

Her eyes widened and her mind crackled. It would take more than a weekend for the snake and cat to get used to each other. Was he subtly trying to ask  her to move in? Did he mean to say that or was she over analyzing the text? She held a finger to her lips. Obanai never said anything he didn’t mean. Or maybe he didn’t understand the implication of bringing Sushi over? She was overthinking. Shaking her head, Mitsuri saved Obanai’s photo and put it under her hidden images. 

“I should be back in a few minutes or so,” Obanai said, parking the car two blocks from the Dojo.  “I just have to check in with the caterer.” He pointed towards the direction of the restaurant. He dropped off Genya and Senjuro at the Shinazugawa household already, however the Dojo was between the Shinazugawa and Kyojuro’s homes, so Kyojuro was still situated in the front passenger seat. 

“I’m going with you,” Kyojuro announced, opening the door.

“That’s not necessary. It will only take a few minutes,” Obanai said and started walking away from his younger brother. To be honest, if Kyojuro came with him the errand would take more time than that. 

“Nonsense. What sort of brother would I be if I left you alone?” Kyojuro asked and before Obanai could protest further, he fell in step beside him. Kyojuro linked his arm around Obanai’s elbow. Obanai shrugged his shoulders accepting Kyojuro’s company, not bothering to fight in the humidity. 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Obanai asked. 

“Yes, I’ve been ready since last September,” Kyojuro said. “Kanae gave me the quote she wanted included the day after she asked me to be the officiant.”

“That sounds like her. What is the quote?” Obanai asked, glancing up at his brother. 

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I can’t spoil the surprise for you,” Kyojuro said, turning his head side to side. 

“I thought we were brothers, aren’t we supposed to share everything?” Obanai teased, raising one eyebrow. Kyojuro grinned. 

“I was sworn to secrecy by the bride. Not even Sanemi knows. If you knew then you would tell him.” Kyojuro held one finger over his lips. Obanai exhaled, stifling a laugh at Kyojuro’s loyalty to Kanae. 

They made their way to the front of the Dojo and went through the glass door. Bells jingled announcing their entry. The smell of savory dashi and soy sauce wafted in the air. Koyuki was talking to a couple of customers. The petite woman waved at Obanai and Kyojuro before bidding her customers goodbye.

Unease prickled at the back of his neck, but he ignored it. Koyuki carried a passing resemblance to his cousins and mother. Though her demeanor was calmer and kinder. You’re fine. Obanai reminded himself as Koyuki made her way towards the front. Kyojuro unlinked his arm from Obanai. 

“Good afternoon,” Koyuki greeted politely, bowing her head. Her hair was pulled up in a bun with an orange clip holding it together. She flickered her gaze towards the embodiment of the sun. 

“Rengoku Kyojuro,” his brother introduced himself and offered his hand to the woman. She took it. Obanai nearly laughed as her eyes widened as Kyojuro vigorously shook her hand. Most people were not prepared for the man’s enthusiasm. 

“I am Akaza Koyuki,” she said before directing her attention to the chef. “Is there anything I can do for you, Obanai?” 

“Yes, Kanae asked me to stop by and go over the last minute details for tomorrow,” he answered. 

“It should be,” she said, pursing her lips. “I’ll go grab my husband.” She turned away and went into the kitchen at the back of the restaurant. The only customers in the restaurant stood and smiled at Obanai and Kyojuro as they walked out the door. Moments later Akaza walked through the door, wiping his hands with an ivory towel over his left shoulder. He was a stark contrast to his wife with his tattooed hands, arms, and neck, but just as amiable. 

Beside Obanai, Kyojuro’s posture stiffened. It seemed as if the temperature dropped in the room. It must have been the air conditioning kicking in as Obanai heard the fan whirring above them. Akaza stopped in front of them. 

“Good to see you,” Akaza said, looking at Obanai and then his brother. “You must be Kyojuro. I’m Akaza Hakuji,” he said, holding out his hand. For a brief moment, Kyojuro simply stared. His bushy eyebrows raised and his breath stilled. Akaza’s lips quirked as the moment extended longer than it should. Obanai shifted in place and narrowed his eyes on his brother. What was he thinking? Another second passed before Kyojuro shook the man’s hand. 

“A pleasure,” Kyojuro said, projecting his voice louder than normal. Even for Kyojuro it was odd. He bought his hand in front of his stomach. “Apologies, I seem to have an upset stomach.” He had not mentioned it earlier. 

“Sorry to hear that,” Akaza said, pulling his hand back and looking at Obanai. “Koyuki said you wanted to go over details for tomorrow.” Obanai spared one last glance at Kyojuro, who was grinning to mask his emotions. It was an unnatural smile for the firefighter. Obanai would have to ask him about it later. 

Obanai and Akaza reviewed the number of guests, the menu including vegetarian and vegan options, the set up of the onsite kitchen, and countless other details. It reminded Obanai of their culinary school days where they would team up for projects. Akaza mentioned that one of the chefs that was supposed to work tomorrow had a family emergency, but they would still be able to manage it. Obanai said he would ask one of his chefs to fill in. Sabito owed him a favor anyway.  

During the exchange, Kyojuro was quiet. Typically he would chime in whenever he pleased, but not this time. His whole body tensed as he studied the two cooks. Once they finalized the start time, Obanai said we would see him and Koyuki tomorrow and reassured them he would find a chef to cover otherwise he would do it himself. On the walk back to his Jeep, Kyojuro’s rigid posture didn’t change. 

“I have Tums in my Jeep if you need it,” Obanai offered. Kyojuro turned his head. His normally riveting eyes seemed haunted.  

“Oh, yeah, right. It’s just mild indigestion. That would be a great help,” Kyojuro said before looking straight ahead and avoiding any eye contact for the rest of the walk. He failed to give any more details. It was unsettling to walk in silence beside his brother after he insisted on accompanying Obanai to the restaurant. 

What would make him act like this? It started when Kyojuro saw Akaza. Was it the tattoos? Obanai wrinkled his nose at the thought. No, Kyojuro would not care about that. Tengen had several tattoos and they never bothered him before. Had they met before? Obanai never introduced them and Akaza didn’t seem to remember him either.

Obanai pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his Jeep. He got into the driver’s seat while Kyojuro hopped into the passenger seat. Obanai leaned over the console to unlock the glove compartment for the antacid.

“Here,” Obanai said as he pulled the bottle out. It rattled. Kyojuro hesitated for a moment before taking it. Tension crackled in the air as Obanai placed the keys in the ignition, but he did not turn them. Kyojuro wore his heart on his sleeve and had a tendency to overshare while Obanai was not the type to pry. Something was obviously bothering him and his brother had always been there for him. He pulled off his black mask, the scars itched from the heat and humidity. His left knee bounced against the driver’s side panel and he forced himself to stop. 

“Is something bothering you?” Obanai asked before clearing his throat. “I mean, more than the indigestion. I’ve never seen you act like that with a stranger. Well, actually, I don’t think you’ve ever met a stranger,” Obanai explained further, trying to keep the inquiry light. If Obanai blinked he would have missed the grimace on Kyojuro’s face. 

“It’s nothing,” Kyojuro attempted to cover the microexpression with a thunderous laugh. He was compensating for whatever was going through his mind. 

“We both know that’s not true, Kyo,” Obanai said, cutting to the chase. He shifted towards his brother. “It’s only us here. You don’t need to pretend.” Kyojuro’s breath stalled and his smile fell. The sun dimmed by a cascade of clouds. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” his brother confessed, his brow furrowing. 

“Try me,” Obanai challenged. Kyojuro took a deep breath before meeting Obanai’s narrowed gaze. 

“I’ve seen him before. Your friend, I saw him in my dreams.” Kyojuro bit his lip and swallowed. 

What? His dreams- His heart quickened as his brother continued to talk. 

“He killed me when I was Flame Boy-” Kyojuro clenched his fist. 

“Flame Boy,” Obanai repeated in a whisper. No, Flame Hashira. His eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. 

“Who’s Flame Boy?” Mitsuri’s voice filtered through as Obanai’s vision cut to see her, him, and Kyojuro sitting in Sanemi and Kanae’s dining room about to play Catan nearly a year ago. 

“Flame Boy was the hero in a time when there were none. He fought demons, gods, and villains alike. He stood for justice, hope, and peace. His heart was pure and his mind sharp as a blade,”  Kyojuro answered . 

It was so obvious. Obanai stared at Kyojuro, mystified by how long it had taken him to recognize the signs. He knew all this time. The words were drowned out by the memory. 

Set your heart ablaze. He wore a white haori with flame trimmed sleeves and hems. He was a prince of the people and a slayer of demons. Obanai recalled the words Kyojuro used to describe Flame Boy and then the costume. A black uniform with gold buttons, a distinct feature of the hashira. All the clues had been staring him directly in the face if he had only bothered to look. 

“Cawww! Rengoku Kyojuro is dead. Upper Moon Three killed the Flame Hashira,” a crow called out. The dream-memory arose unbidden and his heart sunk under the Jeep’s floorboards. That was how Kyojuro knew Akaza…Akaza was the demon that killed Kyojuro. If Muzan was reincarnated it only made sense the Upper Moons would as well. “Rengoku Kyojuro is dead,” the crow said again.

“You were the Flame Hashira,” Obanai said, cutting off Kyojuro. “Flame Boy was just a cover for the Flame Hashira.” Kyojuro blinked rapidly and Obanai could see the edges of his eyes begin to water. His heart tugged seeing his brother’s unguarded expression. 

“You remember?” Kyojuro asked, his voice trembling in disbelief. Obanai nodded slowly. 

“How long have you known?” Obanai asked. Kyojuro’s face softened. The embodiment of fire smiled plainly, but it failed to light his eyes. The usual bonfire was nothing more than tepid embers. 

“Since we adopted you,” Kyojuro confessed. “Before Mom died, I started having dreams. I thought they were fun at first. I was a superhero killing demons, what boy wouldn’t be thrilled about that?” Kyojuro ran a hand through his hair and the smile fell. He knew all this time. “Then I dreamt of Mom dying and two days later she passed away. The night of her death, I dreamt of of her previous self’s last words, ‘ Take care of your father and brothers. ’” Obanai’s brows narrowed. 

“Before you ask she didn’t say brother, she said ‘ brothers ’. I told Dad about my dream and he brushed it off as a coping mechanism and a mistake. It wasn’t. I realized that when Dad brought you home. In our past life, you were rescued before mom died. She adopted you.” Kyojuro breathed in deeply. “She loved you as much as she did Senjuro and I.”

The dream from this morning flashed behind Obanai’s eyes and he saw Ruka leaning against the column as they shared in watching the sunrise. The last sunrise they shared she looked at him with such warmth and affection. As a child, he had not been able to decipher the look. The knowledge bore into him. Ruka gave her love as freely as the rest of the Rengokus. Now, he wished he really had been able to meet her in this life.

“I had a dream about her last night,” Obanai said, clearing his throat. “We watched the sunrise together. She told me, ‘ My sunrises are numbered, but yours are infinite ,’ and that we should enjoy it while we can.” 

“That sounds like her,” Kyojuro said fondly. “She always knew exactly what to say to make others feel comfortable.” Kyojuro’s eyes glowed at the mention of his mother, a semblance of his usual self returning to the forefront. 

“Just like you,” Obanai agreed with a nod. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Obanai asked.

“I did. Flame Boy was my way of saying something, but no one realized it,” Kyojuro explained. “I never hid who Flame Boy was. If you had had the dreams starting when we met, you would have known…I waited for years for someone to recognize me . You, Sanemi, Tengen, Kanae, and then Mitsuri. None of you remembered our lives.” He shut his eyes briefly. “But now you do. When did you remember?”

“Last month.” Obanai shifted in his seat. “After we saw the play, we dreamt of our deaths,” Obanai said, inhaling sharply. The memory was still fresh. Blood, iron, and dirt sifted through his nostrils. Not the time. 

“We?” Kyojuro repeated. 

“Mitsuri and I,” Obanai answered. Kyojuro covered his mouth. They had been close as mentor and tsugoku. She crumpled after she learned of his death. “She realized what they were first.” 

“How did you die?” Kyojuro asked, his voice softening. Obanai closed his eyes and his lips twitched uncomfortably, the scars pulling. He counted backwards from five to ground himself before answering. 

“We died fighting Muzan,” he said and summarized the original plan to kill the Demon King. Every hashira and demon slayer did what they could to buy enough time until the sunrise. The sun was the only way to kill Muzan. As he spoke, Kyojuro readjusted himself in the seat to face Obanai. He held his hand under his chin and nodded as his brother mentioned fighting side by side with Tanjiro to corner Muzan despite being blinded. Muzan burned in the sunlight, but took several of the hashiras’ lives.

“So I was right,” Kyojuro commented thoughtfully as he crossed his arms. “I always wondered what happened after I died. Even if I didn’t contribute in the last battle, I’m glad we accomplished our goal.” 

That’s not true at all. Obanai’s whole body tightened at his brother’s words. What was it with Kyojuro and Mitsuri thinking they contributed nothing? Every member of the Corps fought for their lives and the lives of their loved ones. Kyojuro was no exception. He deserved to know the truth.

“You’re wrong,” Obanai countered with a steady voice while meeting Kyojuro’s gaze. “Your sacrifice lit a fire under us and reminded the Corps of our duty and mission. You inspired the Demon Slayer Corps because of who you were. You were strong, determined, and loyal until the end. If it wasn’t for you, we would not have had the resolve to kill Muzan.”

A mixture of emotions spread over Kyouro’s face. Surprise, awe, but the one that prevailed was pure joy. The corners of his eyes crinkled. He wiped away the unshed tears before laughing out loud. 

The tension Obanai had been holding onto loosened and his raspy laugh joined Kyojuro’s. A sense of comradery simmered to the surface. It ran deeper than the simple bond they shared before. This conversation cemented the knowledge of their shared past and current lives. Before this life, Obanai never expressed his admiration to the Flame Hashira. He would have to remedy it. The laughter subsided. 

“Thank you for telling me. It means the world to me,” Kyojuro said as his lips curled up. “Does anyone else know?” 

“Shinobu. Mitsuri said she knew since she was a teenager,” Obanai replied. Kyojuro dipped his head in understanding. They had known the truth for the same amount of time and carried the burden alone. At least Obanai and Mitsuri had been able to depend on each other after the memory of their deaths. Now, his brother would have him, Mitsuri, and Shinobu to rely on. He would no longer be alone. 

“Do you want to come over? Mitsuri is supposed to come over around 5. I have no doubt she’d want to know you remember,” Obanai said as he turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Wind whistled through the air vents. 

“Yes,” Kyojuro agreed immediately.

Obanai: There’s a surprise waiting for you

Mitsuri: Is it food? I hope so, I’m starving 😋

Obanai: Part of it is. 

Mitsuri: 🥹Food and another surprise? How did I get so lucky to be with you?

Obanai: I’m the lucky one.

Mitsuri: You’re going to make me cry. 

A little after 5 P.M., Mitsuri pulled up to Obanai’s bungalow in her lime green Beetle. She took the cat carrier out of her front seat along with his necessities. Sushi meowed all the way to Obanai’s house despite her reassurances. She shut the Beetle’s side door and walked up to the steps to Obanai’s front porch. Her feet felt as though they were dragging from the weight of the day. 

The kids had been especially rambunctious, but she could not blame them. It was Friday and she was just as excited to see her fiancé and her best friend’s wedding. Her chest seemed lighter with each step and the reminder of who stood behind the door. The man who made her feel safe and beloved with a single look. The same man who wouldn’t let her ignore the snooze button for a second time this morning. She giggled slightly as she pulled out the key Obanai gave her months ago and opened the door. 

“Oba,” Mitsuri called in greeting and set Sushi’s carrier down. She slipped off her sandals and set them on the mat. Fast footsteps sounded to her right and she turned her head. Normally, she could not hear Obanai approach her due to his quiet steps. Kyojuro appeared and within seconds his arms were wrapped around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Mitsuri could not suppress the squeak as he lifted her off the floor and spun her around like a doll. 

Though she was glad to see Kyojuro, his presence confused her. Obanai had not mentioned his brother would be coming over. Was Senjuro here too? As Kyojuro spun her around, she saw Obanai appear from the arch adjoined to the kitchen. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and the scent of jasmine rice, spices, and sweet potatoes filtered past.

“Put her down,” Obanai ordered curtly, pointing a spatula at the golden haired man. “I didn’t invite you over to get her sick.” The man holding her slowed down and set her down carefully. Her head was still spinning and she had to reach out for the wall to steady her balance. 

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were coming over,” Mitsuri said with a soft chuckle. Obanai opened his mouth, but Kyojuro answered for him. 

“I didn’t either,” Kyojuro admitted and took a step back. “It feels like it’s been a century since I saw you.” He smiled at her fondly with an unreadable expression. 

“I’m pretty sure it was only a few weeks ago when we went to the play,” Mitsuri replied. Her gaze flickered over to Obanai’s dual colored eyes. His eyes closed a fraction as they recalled that memory. The night they remembered and acknowledged the promises they made. They promised eternity together.

“Kyojuro wants to tell you something important,” Obanai said. Mitsuri tilted her head and squinted at her fiancé before looking at Kyojuro. What could he want to share? Oh no, was he going to miss the wedding because he had to work? That would be terrible-

“First, I want to apologize for not being completely transparent. I’ve always prided myself on telling the truth, especially to those I care for,” Kyojuro explained, his voice deeper than usual. He inhaled deeply, elongating the moment. “I remember our past lives as the hashira,” he confessed, his red-yellow eyes burned into her. 

Mitsuri opened her mouth, but failed to produce anything comprehensible. Thoughts swirled, but all of them were fleeting. There was another person who remembered. Not just someone, but one of the first people to accept her as she was and encouraged her to embrace her strength. Without him she would have never become a demon slayer and found a home with the Corps. 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Master Rengoku,” Mitsuri said to her mentor who was currently stuffing his food with sweet potato curry and rice. He swallowed and turned his full attention to his former tsugoku. 

“There’s no need to call me ‘Master Rengoku’ anymore. You are the Love Hashira now. We’re the same rank,” the Flame Hashira reminded her and took another bite. 

“It still doesn’t seem real. It’s only been a week and with my first Hashira meeting tomorrow, I’m worried,” Mitsuri looked down at her bowl of food and fiddled with her chopsticks beside it. Normally, she would be matching her mentor’s eating pace, but today her nerves took precedence over her appetite. 

“Everyone else has been a slayer for a long time and I’m a spring chicken. I haven’t even been in the Corps for a year yet. There’s others who would claim I got preferential treatment because you were my mentor or that my reasons for joining the Corps are stupid,” she said. “Sometimes, I think they are too,” she murmured as she folded her hands in her lap and stared down at the table. Rengoku set down his bowl, making a ringing sound from the force. She forced herself to look up. His yellow-red eyes blazed, baring into her soul with flames behind them. 

“That’s not true. You became a hashira through your strength alone. I trained and honed your skills and strength, but they are ultimately yours. Flame breathing is the most passionate breathing style and difficult to learn. The Serpent Hashira tried to learn it, but could not. Not for lack of trying mind you.” Rengoku explained as he took a moment to let her absorb the information.

Mitsuri had yet to meet most of the hashira. She knew Kocho, Rengoku, and Uzui, but the rest of them were shrouded in darkness. Each one had mastered their breathing style. According to rumors, the Serpent Hashira created his own style from water breathing and carried a white  snake over his shoulders. The last hashira was inducted months ago. It was the Water Hashira. According to Kocho, Tomioka was a man of few words.

“However, you learned it and then created your own breathing style,” her former mentor said. “That in itself is admirable. Then through your efforts and ingenuity, you defeated fifty demons. You earned your place to sit amongst the hashira, Kanroji-san, no matter the reason for joining,” Rengoku reassured her. Mitsuri had to blink away the tears threatening to fall. He always knew exactly how to encourage her. 

“Master,” she bit her bottom lip. This time he did not correct her formality. “Thank you,” Mitsuri picked up her chopsticks. Her doubts remained, but they were lessened by his encouragement. Rengoku studied her. 

“And remember to live with your head held up high and no one will be able to stop you from attaining your dreams,” Rengoku said. “Set-”

“Set your heart ablaze,” Mitsuri finished for him and they shared a smile. He picked up his food again, the flames on his haori brushed against the table top. His words reminded her to be true to herself and convictions. No matter the reason for joining the Corps, she earned her place among them. 

<><><><><><><><><>

“Master Rengoku!” Mitsuri cried and pulled him into her embrace. This time she was the one who squeezed the air from Kyojuro’s lungs. “Sorry,” she said quickly and released him. Heat rose from her cheeks. He held up his hand and waved off her apology. 

“No need, I’ve missed you too, Mitsuri,” Kyojuro said.

“When did you remember? How long have you known? You know I was your tsugoku, right? What was your first dream-memory? Is that what you call them? What do you think they are? Is it reincarnation, a parallel universe, or something else?” Mitsuri rattled off questions without giving Kyojuro time to answer. “Did Obanai know that you knew? No, he would have told me, so you must have just told him.” She tapped her pointer finger to her lips as she looked past Kyojuro to the dark haired man leaning against the arch. 

“He told me the truth after we went to the Dojo. Dinner is nearly ready,” he said and pointed at the cat carrier on the ground. “Why don’t you put Sushi in our room and then we can talk over dinner?” He suggested. Sushi meowed as if agreeing. 

“Sorry, Sush,” Mitsuri murmured as she grabbed the carrier and his necessities. “I’ll be right back.” She walked down the hall and opened Obanai’s bedroom. She released Sushi and then placed his litter box in the adjoining bathroom along with his food and water bowl. “I’ll be back, I promise.” Mitsuri patted her cat’s head and slipped out. 

She went into the kitchen to see Kyojuro sitting at the table with a bowl of rice and sweet potato curry. Obanai stood in front of the stove, plating more bowls for her and him. When he was in the kitchen, he was in his element and she admired his steady hands as he set a sprig of coriander on top of the curry. Mitsuri made her way to his side. 

“Thank you,” Mitsuri whispered, kissing his cheek. His ears tinged pink at the contact, glancing briefly at Kyojuro. Obanai was not the type of person who liked public displays of affection even if it was only an audience of one.

“Here,” he said, handing her a ceramic bowl piled high with sweet potato curry. She took it and sat down across from Kyojuro, who was smirking at the couple, clearly amused by Obanai’s embarrassment. If he remembered, then he probably knew about their affections for each other then and now. 

“Are you ready to answer my questions now?” Mitsuri asked. “Wait, we should invite Shinobu here too.”

“I already asked, but she and Giyuu are meeting with her parents tonight and can’t make it,” Obanai said as he set the ladle on the spoon holder. He sat down beside Mitsuri. His portion of food was much smaller than hers and Kyojuro’s. Her stomach churned. He still had troubles eating, but he was getting better about eating consistently with her influence. 

For the next hour, Kyojuro explained when the dreams started, his memories from the Corps, and meeting Mitsuri and Obanai. She did not have the memory of their first meeting, but Kyojuro put his faith in her from the beginning. It warmed her heart as Kyojuro revealed how she first developed Love Breathing. She was a skillful wielder of Flame Breathing, but never a master. 

The conversation turned as he revealed how he died. Mitsuri’s eyebrows rose when he said Akaza had been the demon who killed him. She could not imagine the black haired man as a demon, but it made sense that demons would be reincarnated alongside the slayers. Tears welled in her eyes and dripped down her face. Wordlessly, Obanai passed her a napkin. Kyojuro leaned back.  

“I think this is why we were reincarnated. Look at me, Kanae, Sanemi’s entire family, we have the chance to realize our dreams. We can live normal lives,” Kyojuro said and crossed his arms with the ghost of a smile. “What was it that Mom told you about sunrises, Obi?” Kyojuro raised one eyebrow. Obanai did his best not to show his irritation at the nickname as the side of his mouth twitched. Mitsuri reached for his hand in a show of support. 

“She said her sunrises were numbered, but mine were infinite and we should enjoy them while we can,” Obanai said. Mitsuri didn’t know Obanai even knew Ruka. Kyojuro closed his eyes. 

“She was right,” Kyojuro noted and looked towards the setting sun. The fading rays illuminated the fire burning inside the old Flame Hashira. “We should enjoy them while we can and with who we can.”

Obanai and Mitsuri stood on his porch and stared at the waxing moon after bringing Kyojuro back to his home. The crescent moon gave off enough light for Obanai to make out Mitsuri’s soft features. Her lips pulled up into a smile like a flower in bloom. 

“I wish it were a full moon,” Mitsuri said, holding her fingers to her pink lips. “I could have made moon water.” Obanai still had no idea what it was, but it didn’t matter in the long run. 

“It’s a few days off,” Obanai replied. Mitsuri was too enamored with the moon to notice him. He reached inside his pocket. He carefully extracted the velvet box. Normally, his hands would be sweating and his heart would be racing, but in this moment he couldn’t be anything but at peace. His mind was calm as he opened the box and grabbed the ring. He slid the box back into his pocket.

He paused for a moment to take in the moment. She’d always been beautiful to him, but right now she looked like a goddess. The glow of the moon reflected in her emerald eyes. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to see the world through her hopefulness. 

Obanai reached his hand up and pretended to pinch the moon. Mitsuri looked between his hand and his face before laughing, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Hearing her laugh warmed his chest. He lowered his hand and twisted his wrist to reveal the amber pearl ring like he had done with the tsukimi dango in their past life. 

“What-“ Mitsuri started. Her face flooded with a flurry of emotions as her eyebrows raised and she covered her mouth with both hands. “Is that-“ 

“I promised to give you the moon,” Obanai said, “this was the closest I could get.” He took her left hand. Her bottom lip trembled and tears sprung as he slipped the ring over her fourth finger. 

“You’ve given me more than the moon,” Mitsuri whispered, intertwining their hands.

Chapter Text

“I am going to go check on Akaza and then get ready with Sanemi and Genya,” Obanai said. They stood at the entrance of the venue. Mitsuri glanced at the set of lounge chairs outside of the event coordinator’s office. Last year they had been sitting there when Mitsuri asked for Obanai’s phone number. Her hands shook as she handed him her phone. Her lips curled up. They have come a long way since last August. 

“Did you hear me?” Obanai asked, angling his head towards her. Mitsuri straightened her posture as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. 

“Sor-” Mitsuri paused when Obanai’s brow furrowed in preparation to tell her there was no need to apologize. “I was just thinking about the last time we were here,” Mitsuri said, pointing to the chairs, “back when I asked for your number.” 

“Back when you joked about Kanae killing Sanemi and we had to get our stories straight?” Obanai raised one brow. Mitsuri nodded and grinned at her fiance. “In all fairness, it could still happen,” Obanai said with a shrug. This made her snort. Obanai’s eyes crinkled at the edges and squeezed her hand. “I should check on Akaza. I’ll see you later,” Obanai said, letting go her hand. He turned and began to walk away. 

“See you soon,” Mitsuri replied before clearing her throat. “I love you,” she said, a bit louder than she anticipated and the near empty hall echoed. Her eyes widened and blush crept over her cheeks as she noticed Yushiro, the event coordinator’s assistant, in the main hall, running over his checklist. The man with pale blue and black hair stared disapprovingly at her. 

In turn, Obanai glared at Yushiro, who rolled his eyes and turned his back to the couple. His dual toned eyes drifted over the hall before pulling down his surgical mask under his chin. 

“I love you too,” Obanai said, offering her one of his special smiles. A giddiness filled her before Obanai pulled the mask up again and headed towards the kitchen. She was sorry to see him go, but they had their roles to fulfill. Mitsuri slapped her cheeks lightly to redirect her attention to the wedding in a few hours. 

Originally, Kanae wanted to get married in the garden, but due to the heat wave they were forced to have the ceremony and reception inside the main hall. Kanae didn’t want their grandparents to suffer in the humidity. A grey aisle separated the benches. Wisteria, lavender, and baby’s breath lined the side of the benches with mixed greenery to offset the white and violet shades. A rustic burlap bow held the flowers together. Yushiro inspected each bouquet and the spacing of the benches with a critical eye. He scowled as he adjusted the lavender on one of the benches and plucked a few browned petals. The flowers would have melted in the summer heat. Sunlight filtered through the windows illuminating the hall. 

At the front there was a white marble platform the bride, groom, and officiator would stand on for the vows. Just behind it was a Japanese pagoda tree in bloom. The white flowers created a romantic effect to encompass the rest of the venue. Tamayo placed a few artificial butterflies on and around the tree. It was timeless and fit Kanae’s aesthetic. As a nod to Sanemi, there was a beetle placed beside the butterflies. 

Then there was the butterfly house that was installed earlier this year. It was one of the main reasons Kanae had her heart set on this venue originally. It was across the parking lot, encased in glass. Before the ceremony they were supposed to take bridal pictures surrounded by butterflies. 

Mitsuri couldn’t wait to get pictures with everyone, especially Obanai. A lightness filled her as she recalled the maskless picture he sent her yesterday. Maybe he would allow her to take one together if they were alone. Or was it too soon to ask for them? He hardly ever denied her requests, but she didn’t want to overstep or cross a boundary. Her mouth twisted slightly. One day she would get one, but for now, she had to be patient. 

“Mitsuri!” Someone called out. Mitsuri blinked and turned towards the honeyed voice. Shinobu was walking into the hall with her arms full of bags. 

“Let me help you with those!” Mitsuri rushed over and took several of the bags. 

“Thanks,” Shinobu said. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from hauling the bags and the summer heat. “Are you ready for your debut as maid of honor?” Shinobu asked. 

“Yep!” Mitsuri answered. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. I was just about to find Kanae and get ready. Do we need to drop these off somewhere?” She lifted the bags. 

“No, they’re actually for Kanae. There’s so many things that can go wrong or you forget about on the wedding day, so I grabbed everything. Sewing kit, aspirin, Tide pen, bobby pins, lint roller, tissues, and xanax,” Shinobu listed them off like they were symptoms. “Giyuu will be bringing my parents, centerpieces, and the kitchen sink shortly,” she joked. Mitsuri chuckled and they made their way towards the bridal suite. 

Shinobu was engrossed in a conversation with her mother, Mika, while the hair stylist brushed Kanao’s black hair in preparation for styling. All the Kocho and Shinazugawa women decided to wear violet shades in order to match the wedding party. The respective mother in laws donned matching ebony kuro-tomesodes with lavender tree branches and green vines. The younger generation opted for modern dresses, but both had their hair pulled into buns with floral hair sticks. The bride was the only one to have her hair fall loosely down her back. 

Knock! Knock! 

Mitsuri sprung to her feet and rushed to open the suite’s door. Kanae sat in front of the mirror with the makeup artist who was applying charcoal grey eyeshadow to make Kanae’s light eyes pop. She opened the door a crack to see Tamayo in a plum kimono with crimson orchids. 

“Do you have a moment to speak?” She asked, glancing over at the bride and pursing her lips. Based on her expression, this was not going to be good news. Mitsuri nodded once and slipped out into the hallway. It was only then Mitsuri noticed Yushiro was standing in Tamayo’s shadow. 

“I want to start by apologizing. I just got a call from the photographer. He’s not coming,” she explained. 

“What? Why?” Mitsuri gasped. “We’re supposed to start pictures in thirty minutes,” she said, glancing at the clock. 4:03 P.M. 

“He had another wedding booked this morning and his camera stopped working. He’s not sure what the problem is, but he won’t be able to make it. I am truly sorry and will take full responsibility,” Tamayo explained as she bowed her head.

Weddings were never perfect, but this was certainly a kick in the gut. Mitsuri would have to break the news to Kanae and her family. They could get by with the cameras on their phones, but Kanae had her heart set on capturing every moment. Mitsuri wrinkled her nose and shut her eyes. There had to be something that could be done. With all of their friends and family, there had to be someone who knew a photographer. What was-

“I reached out to other photographers we’ve used. The only one who can come on such short notice takes incredible photos; however, he is a bit…eccentric and blunt,” Tamayo admitted. The event coordinator held her hand over her neck. 

“How so?” Mitsuri asked. She’d been called eccentric before, so how bad could it be? Before Tamayo could respond, her assistant stepped forward.  

“He’s more than blunt. Gyokko is rude and pushy. He insulted couples and bridal parties in the past. He’s made kids cry before because they don’t understand ‘his vision ’ ,” Yushiro said plainly and used air quotes. “We try not to use him unless we know it’s a ‘child free’ wedding. Great photographer, but a pompous ignoramus. However, he’s your only option.” Tamayo covered her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement.

“There’s no need to be harsh, Yushiro,” Tamayo said, trying to be professional. “What he said is true. Gyokko made the flower girl cry at one wedding because she wasn’t throwing the flowers correctly. Yushiro and I will ensure he’s on his best behavior.” She placed a hand on Yushiro’s elbow. He looked down at where she touched him. His cheeks tinted pink at the contact. Mitsuri raised one brow wondering if there was something more between them. It was not the time to indulge her inner romantic. 

“We’ll make it work. Just make sure he’s here on time, please. I’ll tell the bride and groom,” Mitsuri said. They had to make it work because what other option did they have? She turned and walked into the bridal suite. Kanae stood in front of the mirror with her soon to be mother in law and sister in laws while Kanae took photos. Shinobu and Mika sat on the cream loveseat beside the door. The bride glanced over at Mitsuri. 

“What did they have to say?” Kanae asked. Everyone’s eyes shot towards the maid of honor. Mitsuri pressed her hands together and explained the last minute photographer switch. “It’s okay, these things happen,” Kanae attempted to stay neutral, yet her posture stiffened. Her violet eyes moistened threatening to ruin her makeup. Mitsuri pulled her best friend into a hug.

“They do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset,” Mitsuri reassured her. Kanae hugged her back. “Maybe if you cry now, you won’t cry during your vows. Sanemi said you were having a competition, right? To see who cries first?” Mitsuri felt Kanae’s body shake as she laughed. 

“We are,” Kanae said. A few stray tears fell down her face, but her face seemed to relax. “We’ll have to tell him about the switch. Can you handle that, Mitsuri?” 

“Of course!” Mitsuri agreed. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” Mitsuri said, holding up her hand. She strode down the hall towards the groom’s suite. The maid of honor knocked on the door. Within seconds, Tengen appeared on the other side. 

“Welcome to the party, Honey,” he announced as he opened the door wide open. Sanemi stood in front of the mirror adjusting his collar. His brothers were laughing at the sour expression on his face. Obanai sat in a chair holding Kannon on his knee. His face was bare and her mind buzzed. Was he not going to wear the mask for the wedding? He hadn’t mentioned it, but she could hope. He rose and placed the baby on his side before joining Tengen at the door. Kannon was dressed in a white onesie with grey glitter letters reading, Best Baby. The glitter was flaking off and covering Obanai’s dress shirt. The sight made her knees wobble, but she had a mission. Focus! 

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Obanai questioned in a low voice. 

“Not wrong, but we have a little bit of a situation,” Mitsuri began. She wished her hair was down, so she could channel her anxiety into playing with the green tips. “The original photographer isn’t coming. Tamayo said his camera broke. They found a replacement, but according to Yushiro, he can be rude.” Her gaze flickered between Obanai and Tengen. The white haired hair put his hand under his chin while Obanai waited for her to continue. “Apparently, he’s made kids cry at weddings and insulted the bride and groom,” she added. 

“Is that it?” Tengen questioned. She nodded. “Between all of us, we can keep him in check. You and Babe can make kissy faces at each other while I tell Sanemi,” Tengen said, smacking his lips. Obanai’s right eyebrow twitched and Mitsuri covered her mouth. Tengen knew exactly how to get under his skin. Tengen grinned as he went back to the Shinazugawa brothers. 

“Mitsuri,” Obanai said, his smooth voice soothing her. Mitsuri turned towards him. His gentle eyes rested on her. Mitsuri had not realized how hard her heart was pounding before now. “It’ll be alright. You can always give him a pink slip,” Obanai reminded her.  

“Or I go into teacher mode and give him detention,” Mitsuri said with a laugh. Kannon shifted in Obanai’s arms and reached out for Mitsuri. She leaned forward to be face to face with the boy, who immediately smiled. “Isn’t he the cutest?” She asked. 

“For a potato, yes,” Obanai replied plainly. Before she could refute his claim, she noticed the mirth behind his eyes. She admired his dry humor. 

“You mean, a sweet potato,” Mitsuri countered as she poked Kannon’s cheek, which earned her a giggle. The sound alone alleviated a fraction of her anxiety. “Isn’t that, right, my little sweet potato?” She asked in a higher pitch. She extended her arms and Obanai gingerly handed Kannon over. “He’s such a sweetheart. My brother always smiled like this as a baby,” she commented. 

“From what I’ve seen he hardly ever makes a fuss. The Uzuis lucked out,” Obanai agreed as he brushed off the glitter from his dress shirt. “Imagine if they had a baby exactly like Tengen.” An image of a crying, red faced baby with a bedazzled headband and clothes appeared behind her eyes. 

“He still would have been a sweet kid, just a louder and flashier one,” Mitsuri said, beaming at the baby. The glitter from his shirt flaked onto her dress, but it didn’t bother her. In fact, it added a layer of sparkle that was missing from the original design. Kannon’s jovial spirit eased the tension in her shoulders and neck. Tengen walked back to the couple. 

“You look like a natural with him. Maybe you can take him down the aisle instead of a bouquet,” Tengen said, pointing at Mitsuri and Kannon. 

“That’d be so cute,” Mitsuri said and hugged Kannon a little tighter, “but I doubt Kanae would appreciate a baby stealing her thunder.” Tengen nodded deeply and took his baby from Mitsuri’s arms. 

“Maybe when you have your own wedding then,” Tengen suggested with a wink and a sly glance towards Obanai. Mitsuri’s cheeks warmed as she swallowed. Their engagement was a secret, but they already agreed their wedding would be next summer. When would they start telling their friends and family? She glanced at Obanai. Behind his shoulder length hair, his ears were tinted pink and his eyes narrowed on the taller man. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Mitsuri said, brushing off the statement the best she could. “I need to head back to Kanae.” She handed Kannon off to his father before waving goodbye to her fiancé. 

The photographer, Gyokko, arrived at 5 P.M. and was able to snap a few shots of the groomsmen and bridal party getting ready. He was obnoxious and nitpicked everything including the lighting, makeup, and attire. At one point, Gyokko criticized Obanai’s height and he asked if the photographer had any original material. His face turned crimson and he spluttered out a dimwitted response. After that, Obanai noticed Gyokko would whisper insults under his breath. Now the photographer slithered around the main hall getting pictures of the aisle and guests with Yushiro following close behind. 

The hairs on Obanai’s arms rose when Tengen joked about Mitsuri holding Kannon at her wedding. The glint in his eye was unmistakable when he winked at Mitsuri and Obanai. It was just another way for Tengen to further embarrass the couple and unfortunately it worked. Typical Tengen. 

Obanai readjusted his grey mask to ensure the metal wire laid evenly over his cheeks to conceal the scars. A few minutes before they were summoned, he debated whether or not he would wear a mask, but ultimately decided to wear it. He bought this mask specifically to match his suit and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Tonight was for Sanemi and Kanae. Now, he stood beside Shinobu with Mitsuri and Genya behind them in preparation for the ceremony. Genya’s face was the color of a watermelon as Mitsuri laced her arm under his. Obanai could not help but be amused at Genya’s obvious embarrassment.

“Ah, it’s finally here!” Mitsuri exclaimed, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

Her enthusiasm was infectious, yet Obanai’s mouth was dry. Large gatherings still activated the spot in the back of his brain telling him to leave as quickly as possible. Several guests failed to show up, but there were over 100 people in the benches lining the aisle and all their eyes would be on him. That wasn’t true, they would be staring at the bride and groom. He just happened to be standing beside them.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, held his breath, and then exhaled in an effort to ease his nerves. The scent of wisteria was overpowering. Kyojuro, Mitsuri, and him went over the order of the procession in preparation for today, but there was still the nagging feeling that something could go wrong. His fingers trailed over the hemline of the suit jacket, taking solace in the smooth thread and fabric. He left his silicon snake in the Jeep’s glove compartment. Now he wished he had it to thread between his fingers. 

Everything will be fine. Even if something bad happens I can handle it. This is just another one of Dr. Ubuyashiki’s tests. 

Mitsuri reassured him that she would be close during the ceremony and reception. She promised to help and protect him in any way she could. She suggested he could slip away during the reception if he needed to and she would be right behind him. Most likely with a plate piled high with ohagi, mochi, and other decadent sweets. The image made him smile and a sense of calm rolled over his shoulders. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

In front of the wedding procession, Kyojuro stood on the altar with Sanemi, who was trying his best not to pull on his tie. He despised constraining clothes and Obanai had to remind him he’d only have to wear it for an hour. Once the ceremony and family photos were over Kanae agreed he could throw the necktie away if it pleased him. 

The front benches were filled with Sanemi’s mother and siblings along with Kanae’s parents, Kanao, and grandparents. Shinobu poked Obanai’s shoulder and he narrowed his gaze at the unsolicited touch.

“Do you think we have enough wisteria to ward off demons?” Shinobu asked and gestured to the flowers decorating the benches. Her impish smile reminded him of how mischievous the woman had been in their prior life. They had been the type of friends to spar with swords and words. 

“No, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Obanai retorted quickly. It was too easy to slip back into their tongue in cheek banter. Shinobu’s smile deepened at his barbed response and she laughed. The sound took him by surprise since it was an uncensored laugh. Even Shinobu’s current iteration was different. He never saw her authentic smile in the past, at least what memories he’d seen. 

“You never miss a shot, Mr. Civil,” Shinobu chided. He nearly rolled his eyes. Before he could respond, Kyojuro clapped at the front of the aisle. The crowd was silenced. Obanai straightened his back and turned to face his brother. 

“It’s about time we begin the ceremony.” Kyojuro’s voice boomed. The chords of a love song he could not name began. Tamayo gave Obanai and Shinobu their cue to start the procession. He spared one last glance at Mitsuri before holding up his elbow for Shinobu to take. Mitsuri’s face softened, all tension gone as she offered silent reassurance. He exhaled once more and walked down the aisle beside Shinobu. They parted ways as they approached the altar with Shinobu veering to the left and Obanai the right. 

Mitsuri and Genya followed. The dusky purple dress complemented her complexion. He recalled how excited she was when she realized the dress had pockets. Every dress needs pockets! How else can I collect dandelions? She explained when he asked why. 

Her hair was held up by a hair stick with green and violet flowers. Her eyelids were painted with muted grey and lilac to make her eyes pop. Her radiant smile shone like the sun's rays. Like this, Mitsuri could have stepped out of a painting and he would not have questioned how. Mitsuri and Genya parted as they reached the front. 

Next came the ring bearer and the flower girl who were accompanied by their mother to ensure the three year old twins made it down the aisle without issue. The music paused for a moment before the instrumentals of another love song started to announce the bride. The guests stood in response as Kanae and her father began to walk. 

Obanai watched Sanemi’s breath hitch. His dark purple eyes widened upon seeing Kanae for the first time in her wedding dress. Her bouquet was a variety of violet shades including plum, orchid, and fuschia with eucalyptus interspersed. Mitsuri said Kanae designed it herself and it was nearly as stunning as the bride. Her black hair was pulled up into a bun and the veil shrouded her face, but Obanai could not mistake the look of longing shared between the bride and groom. Kanae’s father escorted her down the aisle before giving her a quick hug and sitting down beside his wife. Sanemi and Kanae joined hands. 

“Everyone may take a seat now,” Kyojuro said and waved his hand over the guests. “Thank you for coming out this evening to celebrate Kanae and Sanemi’s wedding. For those of you that don’t know me, I am Kyojuro. I’ve known Sanemi since we were teenagers and when he first introduced Kanae I knew she was someone special. They both are.” His eyes blazed as they shifted between the pair. 

“Today they will be joining their lives and souls together and begin a new life as husband and wife. To begin, I was asked to read a short poem by Saigyo.” Kyojuro pulled out a notecard from his jacket pocket. His theatre experience was on full display as his voice resonated throughout the hall. 

“You left impressions unforgettable

and when I view our moon

your image surfaces

and that love seems forever.”

“Kanae asked me to read this poem because of the love she shares with Sanemi. An eternal love that transcends this world and the next,” Kyojuro said and paused to put the notecard back in his pocket. Obanai swallowed. The poem matched him and Mitsuri’s love as well as Sanemi and Kanae’s. In one of his dreams, Kanae’s death was a harbinger for any relationship within the Demon Slayer Corps. It was one of the reasons, upon hundreds, Obanai never confessed to Mitsuri until the end. How many other couples were given a second chance in this life? 

“Our bride and groom have prepared their own vows,” Kyojuro said and gestured to the bride. “Kanae, if you would like to begin.” Kanae dipped her head and cast a glance at Mitsuri who passed her a slip of paper with her delicate script. Mitsuri warned Obanai that Kanae’s vows were worth crying over. Now it was the moment of truth. 

“The moment I met you I never imagined we would be saying our vows in front of our friends and family years later. When we met I thought you were blunt, hotheaded, and abrasive, which you were-actually you are,” Kanae said, which earned a laugh from the audience. Anyone who knew Sanemi would say the same. 

“You were everything I wasn’t, but then I realized that part was only the surface.” The bride looked up from the paper to share a smile with her groom. There was no mistaking the emotion between them. “I was quick to judge when I shouldn’t have and I came to love all your parts. You’re blunt, but it means you're honest to a fault. You’re hotheaded, yet it shows how passionate you are. You’re abrasive, but it reminds me how dedicated you are to your loved ones. No one would argue with your devotion to your family and that’s part of the reason I grew to love you. Now I know you are generous, considerate, and bend over backwards for any of our friends and loved ones.”

“I admire your ability to challenge me to be the best version of myself. We may get into fights, but they come from a place of mutual respect and love. As we enter this next chapter, I know we’ll continue to challenge each other and grow together as people and a couple,” Kanae continued. 

“So today and for the rest of our lives, I promise to always be there for you. Whether it’s to discuss the mating rituals of beetles, the rotation of the earth, or argue over the best way to drive to the movie theater.” The audience chuckled knowing how the couple would get into small tiffs. 

“I always want to be by your side, Sanemi,” she said. Her light purple eyes softened. “Because living beside you makes me the happiest woman alive.” 

The bride blinked away the tears that threatened to pour. Obanai couldn’t see Sanemi’s face, but his shoulders trembled slightly. No doubt Sanemi was attempting to control his emotions in front of everyone. They had both lost the competition. There was a moment of silence. Kyojuro’s eyes brightened as he turned his attention to Sanemi. 

“That was beautiful, Kanae. Sanemi, if you would like to say your vows,” Kyojuro said. Sanemi was quiet and pulled a paper out of his pocket. He held the sheet with both hands and scanned the words. Another moment passed before the white haired man finally spoke.

“I’ve never been the sort of man to speak or write eloquently. Obanai helped me write these vows, but they don’t accurately express how I feel about you.” Sanemi crumpled the piece of paper and shoved it in his pocket. Obanai tried his best not to facepalm. Sanemi said he wanted Kanae to cry hearing his vows, but now he ensured it. Whether it would be from overwhelming happiness or frustration was yet to be determined. 

“I don’t need to recite how beautiful, smart, confident, and strong you are. You know exactly who you are and I love that about you,” Sanemi said bluntly. Kanae’s eyes warmed at his words. She took his hands in her’s and squeezed. “Instead, I am going to vow to get up every morning to make you a cup of coffee with cream, to listen to your worries, and to love you more every day. Whatever the future brings, know I’ll be on your side.” Kanae blinked away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. 

Obanai looked past the couple to watch Mitsuri. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. A year from now, they would be standing in front of their friends and family. He pursed his lips. He could see her in a white dress with an elaborate hair style. No doubt she would be wearing some sort of oddity whether it be a headband with cat ears, lollipop earrings, or a pair of green socks. Her eccentric style would be on display for the world. 

Mitsuri met his gaze, smiling instantly. Was she thinking the same thing? His lips curled up behind the mask. Watery green eyes reflecting the sunset and the promise of forever. 

In this life and the next. Obanai vowed. 

“Now, Kanae, will you take Sanemi to be your lawfully wedded husband from this day forward. Will you promise to love, honor, and cherish him for the rest of your life?” Kyojuro asked.

“I do,” Kanae said through her tears. 

“Then Sanemi, do you take Kanae to be-”

“I do,” Sanemi interrupted as his voice cracked. The audience laughed at his impulsivity. Obanai smirked. Sanemi was never one to do anything in half measures. Kyojuro chuckled. 

“Then in sight of your loved ones and myself, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Kyojuro took a step back. Sanemi pulled Kanae’s veil up and they kissed. Sanemi caressed Kanae’s face, brushing away her tears while she did the same before they separated. 

“It is my greatest pleasure to present Mr. and Mrs. Shinazugawa!” Kyojuro announced. Cheers rang out across the hall, the sound deafening as Sanemi and Kanae held their hands up in celebration.

The next hour was a whirlwind of activity. Mitsuri felt her head spinning. She ran between the main hall and butterfly house to gather wandering family members for photos. When she thought she had everyone, someone asked where their uncle or aunt was and she would have to search for them. 

After the third time, Obanai laid his hand on her shoulder and said he would go retrieve the errant person while scrutinizing the Kocho and Shinazugawa clans. With his assistance, they gathered everyone and Gyokko was able to take what seemed like thousands of pictures. He even captured one where a blue butterfly landed on Mitsuri’s shoulder. She had to cover her mouth to stop from scaring the insect away. With a laugh, Shinobu asked if this was the beginning of Mitsuri’s Disney princess arc. Mitsuri felt her cheeks warm at her friend’s teasing. 

After the photo session, they went to the reception hall for dinner. Mitsuri sat between Shinobu and Kanae. Waiters and waitresses flitted around the tables with trays piled with a vast array of sushi, tempura, miso soup, and yakitori. They moved effortlessly around each other as they had rehearsed every night. She was in awe as she noticed Sanemi’s ohagi plate was consistently replenished without him raising a hand or requesting. 

Obanai must have mentioned his friend’s love of the sweet dough to Akaza and the staff. He sat at the end of the table beside Kyojuro and Genya. Between their mountains of food, the vacant space in front of Obanai was more apparent than ever. Mitsuri shifted in her seat. Even though his eating habits have improved since they met, he still didn’t like eating in front of others, especially strangers where his face would be exposed. 

Baby steps. She reminded herself. At least, she remembered to pack the set of metal straws she bought him, so he could drink comfortably. 

Mitsuri ordered two plates and was in the middle of eating a piece of red snapper sushi when Genya stood up and asked for everyone’s attention. It was time for the best man’s and maid of honor’s speeches. 

“Evening, everyone,” Genya began. He held the microphone so tight his fingers blanched. His posture was rigid. “For those that don’t know me, I’m Genya, Sanemi’s brother. Despite our appearances, he’s older. I hit my growth spurt at fifteen, but before that I always looked up to him. Now it’s more of a figure of speech.” Sanemi’s other brothers chuckled at the eldest brother’s expense. Sanemi shot them a pointed look, which silenced them. Genya rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled through his note cards. 

“Growing up, Sanemi acted like the toughest guy. He got into fights a lot, which Obanai can attest to,” Genya said, gesturing to the other groomsman. Obanai simply nodded once in confirmation, which made Mitsuri laugh. That’s how the two met. 

“He has a softer side he rarely shows. One time when he was thirteen he snuck out with his backpack. I was worried he was running away, so I followed. After a few blocks, he stopped and walked into an abandoned house. Sanemi set down his backpack and sat on the front porch. A second later I saw a small dog appeared and ran to him. She looked pretty thin, but she was wagging his tail like crazy. Sanemi pulled out lunch meat and started feeding her. I joined him on the porch. At first, he was angry. I could have been kidnapped or worse. Eventually, he calmed down and explained how he found the dog and had been feeding her on his way to and from school for two weeks, but he couldn’t find her earlier. In that one act, he showed me what it meant to be a good man.” Genya paused for a moment and wiped away a tear with his sleeve. 

“Since he’s been with Kanae, I’ve seen the way he is more willing to show his softer side. It makes me really happy because my big brother is the nicest person in the world,” Genya said as his voice began to tremble. “It means the world to me that others can see it now, so from the bottom of my heart thank you and welcome to the family, Kanae!” Genya cheered. 

He sat down and the audience clapped. Sanemi set his hand over Genya’s shoulder and whispered something in his brother’s ear. Mitsuri could not hear it, but based on Genya’s broad smile it could only be positive. Warmth flowed over her veins as she recognized their bond. 

Genya passed the microphone to Kanae who in return handed it to Mitsuri. All eyes turned towards the maid of honor and she could already feel the sweat forming on her brow. Now it was her turn. She had practiced her speech countless times, but when the time came she knew she was going to ramble. 

Mitsuri looked down the wedding party table and saw Obanai’s steady gaze. Gold and teal pulled her in and grounded her. He’d listened to her speech and told her where to pause and enunciate particular words or phrases. Obanai reassured her the speech was well written and Kanae would adore it. Looking at her fiance now, she could almost hear his words, You got this. His confidence in her gave her strength. 

I got this. Mitsuri pushed her chair back and stood. Mitsuri brought the microphone up as she tightened her grip like a vise. I got this.

“Good evening! I’m Mitsuri, the maid of honor. Kanae and I met when we survived a Shakespeare literature class in college. We’ve shared countless memories since. Late night trips for ice cream, impromptu adventures, and last minute study sessions. Since we’ve met, I knew Kanae was someone special. She’s been my rock and best friend.” Mitsuri turned towards the bride and groom. 

“My mom once told me your partner should make you stronger, happier, and wiser to deal with anything life throws at you. Looking at Sanemi and Kanae, I can see exactly what my mom meant. Sanemi supports her unconditionally and loves her as fiercely as he loves his family while she steadies him and gives him guidance. Even if he doesn’t ask for it.” Mitsuri paused and heard a few people laugh. Kanae and Sanemi shared a mirthful look. 

“What they have is truly special and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for them,” Mitsuri said, grabbing her champagne flute. She scanned the crowd, taking note of Gyomei sitting next to Giyuu and Kanao, Tengen with his wives and baby, and Tamayo standing beside Yushiro. 

She was grateful to whatever entity allowed them this chance. The Hashira were all able to meet again in this life and they were able to make new memories. Some may not remember, but the bonds were still there. Remnants and whispers from past lives. Maybe on some level everyone felt the unspoken connection just as she and Obanai had. Maybe that’s what held them together, the red strings of fate and a shared bond between lifetimes and universes. It gave her hope that they would always find each other. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she lifted her glass to the ceiling. 

 “Now, let’s raise our glasses and toast Sanemi and Kanae. I hope every day you challenge each other. I hope your love continues to grow. I hope your life is full of adventures where you can create new and everlasting memories that extend through this life and the next.” She sipped her drink. The crowd followed suit. Mitsuri sat down and set the microphone on the table next to her silverware. She didn’t even ramble.  

Obanai leaned against the counter top in the prep kitchen. No one was here. Koyuki and Akaza were asked to meet another couple who were interested in catering for their own wedding. Obanai slipped away from the reception following the speeches. Mitsuri said she was going to go with him to the kitchen and then the bar, but her sorority sisters caught her. She shot Obanai an apologetic look as he retreated telling her he would bring back drinks. 

Akaza set aside a plate for Obanai prior to the reception. From their days in culinary school, Akaza knew Obanai’s taste preferences for bitter foods and his need to eat separately. This time allowed him a reprieve from the other guests and refocus. 

Another few hours and we can go home. He reminded himself. Obanai finished half of the sushi on the plate before he heard footsteps from the hallway. Instinctively, he reached for the paper mask, but it was too late. 

“I’m just grabbing extra plates,” Sabito said as he walked through the swinging door. Obanai squeezed the mask in his hands as Sabito glanced up. There was a brief moment of surprise before the auburn haired man asked, “So, that’s what you’ve been hiding? We could have matched all this time.” He pointed to the burn scar across his right cheek. It was rigid and a shade darker than the rest of Sabito’s face, but far less noticeable. He never shared how the scar got there and Obanai never asked. 

“I didn’t want to overshadow you,” Obanai replied stiffly. 

“With my good looks? Not a chance.” Sabito shook his head and walked to the cabinets to pull out a tower of plates. “We can swap horror stories later,” he suggested over the sound of clinking dishes. 

“Who says it’s a horror story?” Obanai asked defensively. 

“What else would it be?” Sabito said in almost a haunting tone. He looked over his shoulder. Sabito never beat around the bush with his frank manners. The hair on the back of his neck rose. The other chef’s crystalline gaze seemed to pierce through Obanai’s prickliness. He blinked and Sabito was headed out the door with a stack of dishes without another word. He exhaled deeply and ate one last piece of yellowfin tuna before wiping his hands with a napkin. Time to return to the reception. He set his plate in the dirty pile and covered his face again, the elastic bands snapped in place. Sabito’s reaction wasn’t as he expected. 

Obanai made his way towards the edges of the reception where the bar was. With the crowd and pillars, he had not been able to see it from his seat. Two men acted as bartenders. They were identical. Black hair with cyan tips and eyes of the same color. One of them held a neutral expression while the other one smiled at the guests, making small talk as he made their cocktails. He knew him, but he was older, marked by the ghost of facial hair on his cheeks and upper lip. He hadn’t been old enough before he was ripped apart. 

Obanai envisioned Muichiro in his black corps uniform staring up at the clouds, deep in thought. He saw parts of himself in the boy. Both of them had a deep seeded hatred towards demons and fueled their rage into killing every last one. Muichiro couldn’t recall his past, shutting out the trauma while Obanai remembered every detail of his captivity. He hoped Muichiro would live, but like most of them he died fighting. 

“Do you know what you would like to drink, sir?” The bartender asked politely. Obanai looked up to meet the previous Mist Hashira’s gaze. They were no longer clouded. 

Every Hashira was here. The stars aligned to bring them together again to celebrate a wedding. The joining of the Wind and Flower Hashira. An event that might have happened in their previous lives if fortune had been in their favor. 

“Just water,” Obanai said. “And a whirling peach cocktail.” Mitsuri said she was looking forward to trying all the drinks. 

“Of course,” Muichiro took a glass cup out from under the counter and poured cool water in. “Here you go.” He set the water and a straw on the counter top before preparing the mixed drink. 

“Thanks,” he said, smiling behind the mask. Muichiro pulled out peach schnapps, white rum, cranberry and orange juice and without measuring poured them into a tumbler before shaking with ice. 

“Do you go to school around here?” Obanai asked as Muichiro poured the pink drink into a glass. 

“Yeah, I’m a senior in the aerospace engineering program,” he answered, placing the rum back. “With a specialty in aeronautics,” Muichiro added. Of course, he was. Making paper airplanes had been one of his hobbies. The last remnant of a childhood lost to demons. 

“My brother is going into aerospace. He always says ‘I have my head in the clouds and his is in the stars’.” He laughed. He’d never seen Muichiro smile so wide until today. 

“Mui, stop socializing. There’s other guests,” the other twin grumbled as he walked up to Muichiro, who shot Obanai an apologetic look. 

“Have a great night!” Muichiro said and smiled at the next guest. Obanai picked up the two cups and headed back to where he last saw Mitsuri. It seemed as though they’d hardly spent any time together outside of driving here. He should have guessed their time together would have been limited. Now she was talking to a larger group made up of Shinobu, Kyojuro, Gyomei, and sorority sisters. Sanemi and Kanae were making their rounds to the different tables to thank their guests for coming before they cut the cake and prepare for their first dance. 

Giyuu sighed and stood against one of the wooden pillars. Since this morning he had been busy running errands for Shinobu and her family. His eyelids felt heavy, the weight of the day finally taking its toll. 

Just another hour and we can go back to the hotel. He leaned his head into the pillar and closed his eyes.

Something hit the back of his head. Giyuu twisted around to see a peach haired man standing two meters away. He was in a dark blue apron and chef’s clothes. 

“You’re in my spot,” the man said, giving Giyuu a crooked smile. Giyuu felt his lips curl up finally recognizing the man. 

“Just Sabito,” Giyuu greeted him. Sabito had been to break through his barriers as a teenager. They knew each other for a few days, but his brief encounter meant more than words could ever express. 

“Just Giyuu,” Sabito replied and came closer. 

“So, you’re one of the caterers?” Giyuu asked. Something stirred inside seeing Sabito. Normally, he didn’t connect with people quickly, but the peach haired teenager had been different. It was like welcoming an old friend.

“What gave it away?” Sabito picked up his apron and curtsied. Giyuu laughed lightly. “I’m helping out a friend.”

“You moonlight as a chef. Then what is your day job?” Giyuu asked. 

“It may shock you,” Sabito paused for effect, “but I sunlight as a cook.” Giyuu looked at him trying to determine if it was another joke. He still wasn’t the best at reading people. Amusement sparked in Sabito’s eyes and Giyuu found himself chuckling. 

“Is there a difference?” Giyuu questioned.

“Yeah, three letters.” Sabito elbowed Giyuu’s shoulder. He was one of those people who immediately made others feel welcomed. There was no pretense or need to pretend. Sabito already saw Giyuu at his worst. He laughed, shaking his head. Sabito offered a bemused smile and folded his arms in front of his chest. 

“You said you were helping out a friend?” Giyuu questioned. Sabito glanced back towards the reception. A flurry of soft light and pop music filtered through the glass door. Couples danced, casting shadows over the patio, 

“Well, technically he’s my boss, but we started at the restaurant at the same time. I’m sure you saw the groomsmen with the mask, that’s him,” Sabito explained. Iguro. “He’s a bit of an ass, but we work well together and he asked me to work as a favor. The gig isn’t bad and I got to see you.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I always wondered what happened after I left the ward. I went back two more times, but I never saw you. It meant you either got the help you needed or you were with your sister,” Sabito said. There was no need to explain what that meant. “I’m glad to see that you made it.”

“It looks like we made it,” Giyuu said. 

“Yeah, I guess we did,” the chef-cook confirmed. Silence followed as they acknowledged their shared past. Despite the short time they spent together, Sabito’s straightforward attitude and brashness stayed with him for years. They made him realize he still wanted to exist. For years, he struggled with his guilt over Tsutako’s death, but he never returned to a psych ward. He started eating again and going to weekly therapy sessions to learn how to manage  his guilt over her death. 

Around the anniversary of her death, the swamp water lapped at his ankles and he had to wade through the mud, but he was no longer drowning. His parents and him moved shortly after his return from the hospital. They wanted to escape the memories of this town. In some respects it worked, but Tsutako’s ghost lingered. 

He saw her in the shogi board they used a million times, the deep blue of the wallpaper his mother used to decorate the new house, and the hoodie she once wore that he now wore. Instead of the brimming sorrow Giyuu originally felt, these items gave him a sense of belonging. His sister may have passed, but the fact that she had existed at all had been a treasure. She was the one person who understood him on a fundamental level. Giyuu worried if he would ever be able to find another person who could. Sabito sparked that hope and made him realize he could form connections. Now he had Shinobu and friends from work. It was a small circle, but a close knit one.

On some level coming back here was a test by returning to the place that held his greatest regret. Yesterday he visited Tsutako’s grave. He cleaned the stone, lit incense, and brought a bouquet of red spider lillies and white chrysanthemums. Originally, he tried to write a letter, but when he sat down to write it he couldn’t put pen to paper. Instead he knelt in front of the grave and told her about his life, friends, and Shinobu. He could imagine her smiling and laughing at Shinobu’s teasing antics. 

Shinobu decided to poke fun at his favorite band, One Ok Rock, the other night in front of her parents and then proceeded to quote numerous lyrics from them. She was obnoxious at times, but he adored her. The petite woman pulled him out of his head and forced him to live in the moment. 

“So, are you visiting or do you live in the area?” Sabito interrupted his thoughts. 

“Visiting. My girlfriend is the bride’s sister. We’re leaving on Tuesday,” Giyuu answered. He swallowed. “Do you want to grab lunch or something before I leave?” Sabito angled his head, inspecting Giyuu with an unreadable expression. He scratched the back of his neck. Was it weird to ask? He opened his mouth to take back the invitation. 

“Neverm-” Giyuu started. 

“Sure,” Sabito said. His lilac gaze lit up and offered Giyuu his cell phone to add his contact. Giyuu typed out his name and Whatsapp information and handed it back. Sabito pursed his lips as he examined Giyuu’s full name. 

“Tomioka Giyuu,” the peach haired man read. He tucked his phone into his pants pocket. “Nice to meet you-officially. I’m Koshimizu Sabito.” 

Sanemi and Kanae stood in the middle of the dance floor as the instrumentals for Young and Beautiful by Lana del Rey played. It was near the end of their first dance. The lights were dimmed and a spotlight shone on the two lovers. A fog drifted over the floor creating a dreamy atmosphere as the couple moved in sequence. Mitsuri’s heart felt as if it would burst from her chest watching the two. Kanae wrapped her arms around her groom’s neck and jumped into his arms. Sanemi spun her around and her long skirt  made it seem as if she was floating in the air. The song came to an end as Sanemi kissed his bride chastely. 

“Congratulations again to Mr. and Mrs. Shinazuagawa,” called out DJ Sickle. Apparently, he was a friend of Tengen. Mitsuri wasn’t surprised based on his flashy appearance. He had wavy black and green hair pulled into a messy bun. He had dark grey facial tattoos, almost like clouds across his cheeks and peculiar orange-green eyes. “Other couples may join the dance floor now,” he announced. She turned her head towards Obanai. 

“Are you ready to dance?” He asked with his hand outstretched towards her. Sunshine spread from her heart as she bobbed her head enthusiastically. She grabbed his hand and they walked to the center of the room. Another song began to play with the strum of a guitar, drums, and piano. Obanai placed one hand on her waist and another on her hand while she set one hand on his shoulder. It was tense and she could feel the sweat over his palm while blue veins on the back of his hands were raised. He was nervous.

“Should we list off all the purple things, Oba?” Mitsuri asked. Everyone else was too enraptured in their own happiness to notice the groomsmen and maid of honor’s exchange. It was a flurry of colors as the guests began to circle the dance floor. 

“That would take all night,” Obanai replied as if he was exhausted already. Obanai’s hand tightened over her hip as he started to direct their movements. Mitsuri snorted and followed his lead. A man’s voice sang above the laughter and click of heels. His soprano voice sang of a deep emotional bond between lovers. He promised to choose his partner time after time. 

In this and every life, I choose us every time. 

His gentle gaze never left Mitsuri’s as they swayed to the music as if promising the same. The instrumentals sped up. Obanai spun her around only to pull her back in. Wrapped in his arms, they matched their footwork as they stepped back and to the side. Mitsuri smiled wider as he glided her across the dance floor. It was just the two of them in a crowded room. Her body tingled as he watched her face, never wavering. 

One of his hands went across the middle of her back and leaned her backwards for a dip. Mitsuri held onto his shoulder. Time stilled. Their breaths matched and eyes locked. Her hand reached up to caress his masked cheek. He lowered his face until his yellow and teal eyes were all she could see. This is how it should have been all along. 

Just the two of us. 

“You’re going to make a beautiful bride,” he whispered just a hair above the music. Heat spread over her face as he brought her back to standing. Her brain malfunctioned as she sputtered incoherent noises. She couldn’t find the words to adequately express how his words made her mind float away or melt. She could not figure out which was more appropriate. 

They paused as Mitsuri reached up to his mask. If it weren’t for the mask she’d kiss him. As if reading her mind Obanai pulled one side of the mask off, exposing his scars for anyone who looked at them. She reached up to cover his face, but he shook his head. 

“Who cares if they see,” he whispered. His free hand traced her lips before he brushed his lips to her. Her heart fluttered as she returned it.

It’s always been us, d ancing together through this life and the next.

Chapter Text

August 2024

“Dr. Ubuyashiki is ready for you now,” the receptionist called. Obanai nodded and stood from his seat. It’d been a little over three weeks since he had seen his therapist, yet it seemed like a year. 

In the past three weeks, he told Mitsuri he loved her, proposed marriage, and revealed his face to a roomful of strangers. He tapped his fingers to his thumb as he walked down the hallway. Not to mention the realization that his dreams were a glimpse into a past life where he slayed demons beside his friends and Mitsuri. Dr. Ubuyashiki said the dreams could be a reflection of his internal conflicts and subconscious. The therapist never mentioned they were a mirror into another life. 

Obanai opened the door to Dr. Ubuyashiki’s office. The therapist was typing his previous patient’s note. He rubbed his eyes as he shut the screen and turned towards Obanai. Their eyes met and Obanai was reminded of Dr. Ubuyashiki’s previous incarnation. A young man ravaged by a supernatural disease who lost his eyesight, yet he never lost his ability to perceive and ensure people felt seen. Dr. Ubuyashiki carried that sentiment into this life. 

“Good afternoon, Obanai,” Dr. Ubuyashiki greeted and rose from his office chair. “How have you been?” He moved and sat down on the lounge chair while Obanai sat down on the blue couch with wisteria pillows. 

“It’s been…Interesting,” Obanai said, unsure how to simplify the last month into one word. Interesting did not do it justice. He pulled his mask off. His cheeks itched where the fabric touched. The humidity certainly did not help either. 

“Interesting in what way?” Dr. Ubuyashiki asked, leaning forward. “The last time we spoke you planned on telling Mitsuri you loved her, so have you told her?” The corners of his mouth turned up at the mention. The idea of telling her had been daunting, but now the words fell from his lips easily. He imagined her reddened face as she walked through the refrigerator door and proceeded to knock the wind from his lungs with her confession. 

“Yes, but she told me first. I wrote her a letter like you suggested and I was going to tell her, but before I could I was called into work. While I was there she found my love letter and ran to me,” Obanai explained. 

“And you said you were worried about her running away from you, yet she’s accepted you, your past, and your anxiety at every turn,” the therapist said. 

“She has.” Obanai agreed. Dr. Ubuyashiki waited for Obanai to continue. “And the other thing is we admitted we see a future together.” He bit the inside of his lip. Dr. Ubuyashiki had been the only person he could openly tell about his feelings and relationship with Mitsuri. He’d also been the person to urge him to take a chance with Mitsuri despite his misgivings. 

“I finally took your advice and asked her what her dream was. She wants a family,” he said. A vision of a toddler with black hair and green eyes flashed behind his eyelids. It was the one from his dream. The same dream where he yearned to give Mitsuri the life she always wished for. Marriage, children, and a peaceful life. This time he would be able to fulfill that promise. The therapist’s lips became a thin line and he crossed his legs. 

“When she told me I thought I would have been terrified. I never wanted a partner or kids because I didn’t think I deserved them or if I did have them, I would ruin them. That’s not the case. It never was,” Obanai said. He felt as if he was rambling, but what was therapy for if not that? 

“And what did you feel instead of terrified?” Dr. Ubuyashiki inquired. 

“Hopeful? That’s the best way I can describe it. A mixture of apprehension for the unknown, but assured,” Obanai said, looking away. “Even before she said she wanted a family, I imagined what our kid would look like. Green eyes, black hair, and her beauty marks.” He pointed to the two spots beneath his eyes before looking up again. His ears warmed as Dr. Ubuyashiki smiled widely. 

“It’s natural to wonder what your kids would look like with your partner,” he commented. “I know I did when I dated mine. Now we have five kids and four of them take after their mother,” the therapist laughed while shaking his head.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” Obanai asked. 

“Not at all. My wife is an exceptional woman,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said. “And how was the wedding? That was last weekend, right?” 

“Yes, it was good,” Obanai said. He summarized the events of the wedding and reception where he ended by saying he took his mask off while dancing with Mitsuri. Though people stared, they did not glare or wince as Obanai had expected them too. At the end of the night, Sanemi’s mother told him she was glad to finally see his handsome face. Obanai recognized why Sanemi admired his mother as much as he did. Though she had been a small person, her heart was sincere and kind despite the hardships she experienced in the past. 

“That’s good. However, I noticed you came in wearing the mask,” Dr. Ubyashiki said, pointing to the mask in Obanai’s lap. “Why is that?” 

“I’ve worn them for sixteen years. I never wanted to be seen or questioned about my scars or past. The mask allowed me to hide from others and their judgments. It was another way to keep people at a distance,” Obanai said. He glanced down and held up the mask. “I’m not comfortable going maskless completely yet, but I will be. I can’t change my past or scars, but I can.” 

“I am not the boy stuck in a cage anymore, nor the man I was a year ago. I have people who accept me as I am, even if I can be sullen, harsh, or in Uzui’s words prickly,” Obanai said. He grinned thinking of Tengen, who appreciated Obanai’s short temper. “Those are the people who matter, not strangers.” 

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would not be sitting here,” Obanai explained. He set the mask on the coffee table before looking up to meet Dr. Ubuyashiki’s gaze. “My demons would have gotten the best of me and I would still be throwing myself into work or harming myself to avoid any emotion…So thank you,” he said, letting go of a breath he had not realized he had been holding onto. 

“You’re welcome, but it is not because of me. I gave you the tools and asked the right questions, but you were the one to take the first step by calling the clinic. Therapy only works if you’re willing to put in the work and you did,” Dr. Ubuyashiki said, leaning forward. “You’re not the man you were a year ago and that is because of you and your dedication.” The therapist glanced away. 

“Our session is nearly over. Last time we talked about changing your appointments from biweekly to monthly. Do you want to change it?” Dr. Ubuyashiki inquired. 

Obanai swallowed. Tension ebbed away as he absorbed the therapist’s words. Sunlight filtered through the window and it warmed his maskless face, reminding him of the first time Mitsuri touched his scars. Though he was unaccustomed to the sensation, this was documentable change. 

“Yes,” Obanai confirmed. 

September 2024

“Sit next to me,” Mitsuri said. She patted the chair beside her and looked expectantly at Obanai. Grilled eel, spiced edamame, miso soup, steamed baby bok choy, and jasmine rice rested on the dining room table. An assortment of condiments were placed next to Mitsuri. He pushed the seat back and took his place beside her. Her youngest siblings sat across from them and her parents were at either side of the table. 

Obanai agreed to come with Mitsuri on her weekend trip to visit her family. They arrived in time for dinner. The introductions went well enough, but Megumi was eyeing Obanai’s mask. Mitsuri told her family he had scars, but not the reason. That was not her story to tell. Obanai reached up and unhooked the elastic bands and sat the mask in his lap. 

“I tried my best, but if there’s something you don’t like I won’t be offended,” her mother said, sparing Obanai a smile. “I’m not a professional chef, but people have always liked my grilled eel. I’m curious what you’ll think.”

“It’s the best,” Hinata commented, using the tongs to place a heavy portion on her plate. Mitsuri asked her parents to avoid fried foods this weekend. Her father sounded disappointed, but understood after she told them about Obanai’s preferences. Mitsuri grabbed the tongs and put eel on Obanai’s plate. Sweet, floral notes wafted in the air as Hinata shoveled rice in a bowl and passed it to Obanai. 

“I’m sure it’ll be good,” Obanai said, taking a small bite. He shut his eyes in order to savor the piece. Mitsuri decided to grab bok choy and piled it with the nearest condiment bottle. In truth, it looked like the vegetable drowned in the oyster sauce bath. She laughed lightly at her mistake.  

“It’s almost sweet and tender as expected. I’d try a darker soy sauce the next time you make the sauce. It brings out the natural richness,” Obanai suggested as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Fumiko beamed and started asking for more suggestions. The rest of the meal went by quicker than expected as the conversation evolved from discussing food to Hinata’s last year of high school to Mitsuri’s childhood. 

“You should have seen her as a toddler,” her father said. “Before we had our first son, I told her it was her job to take care of him and watch him like a hawk. The first week we had Ren, I found Mitsuri sleeping on the floor beside his cribe. We had put her in own room the night before, so I was confused. She started crying and apologizing for not watching him properly. She said, "Please don’t fire me, Dad.” He laughed loudly as he shook his head. “She literally thought it was her job to watch him.” 

“Dad!” Mitsuri’s face burned red. “I was only three,” she clarified, turning to Obanai. Her heart sped up as his eyes crinkled at the edges and covered his mouth to hide his smile. He was still getting used to strangers seeing his bare face despite what he had said about not caring what others thought. His raspy laugh joined her family’s chuckling. Maybe she could put up with a little embarrassment if it meant hearing the people she loved most of the world bonding. 

Obanai woke up around 3 A.M. thanks to his insomnia. He didn’t want to disturb Mitsuri’s sleep with his restlessness and went to the Kanrojis’ living room. The walls were covered in family pictures. One of them showed Mitsuri proudly showing her orange cat drawing. She could not be more than six or seven years old based on the missing baby teeth. Another showed Mitsuri giving Hinata a piggy back ride. Others showed her siblings playing sports, running on the beach, and graduation ceremonies. 

When Mitsuri asked him to visit her family, he agreed despite his initial apprehension. According to her, they were kind and accepting individuals. They raised her and were some of the most important people in her life. So far, her words rang true. 

Every photo showed the Kanrojis smiling or laughing except for the one with Megumi frowning at Mitsuri who was pinching his cheeks. This was a genuine family. Not just in name, but in the way they loved, teased, and enjoyed each other. Mitsuri grew up with a family who adored her. They wanted the best for her and Obanai hoped he could provide it. He intended on asking for their blessing to marry Mitsuri. They were traditional in that sense. 

There was a shuffle from the hallway and a woman with graying hair appeared. She yawned as she rubbed the sleep sand from her eyes. 

“Good morning,” Fumiko said as she noticed Obanai. “I am going to make pancakes for breakfast. Do you want to join me?” 

“Sure,” Obanai said and followed Mitsuri’s mother into the gallery kitchen. Fumiko flicked on the light. It flickered as if it was ready to give out. She opened a cabinet to pull out a pan, bowl, whisk, and spatula. She was quiet as she took the ingredients out and started measuring them on a scale. Apparently, Mitsuri had not learned how to cook from her mother. Maybe she got the vibes from her father? The thought amused him.

“You have a nice smile,” Fumiko commented. Obanai looked away. Mitsuri was the only person who ever complemented his smile. The left corner of his mouth quirked. “Mitsuri sent us a picture from the wedding, but you were wearing your mask,” she explained. 

“I didn’t take it off until the end,” Obanai said, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Ah, well, we’ll need to get a picture of you two before you leave tomorrow. Then we can add it to the family photos,” Fumiko said, pointing towards the living room. Her words surprised him. She acted as if it was the most obvious solution. To her knowledge, Obanai and Mitsuri started dating a few months ago. Why would she want to include him in their family photos?

“You don’t have to,” Obanai said automatically. The sound of the whisk scraping against the ceramic bowl paused.

“No, I don’t have to, but I want to,” Fumiko said. “Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be around for a while.” Her dark green eyes reflected the same warmth as Mitsuri’s. Obanai was not sure how to respond. Her words were sincere. No malice or deceit hinted in her tone. She was the reason Mitsuri was a genuine and compassionate person. 

Muffled footsteps sounded in the hallway and his fiancé appeared in her frog slippers. She stretched her hands towards the ceiling, exposing an inch of her stomach. Her pink and green hair fell out of a loose ponytail. 

“I wondered where you went,” Mitsuri mumbled and wrapped her arms around Obanai’s shoulders. Instinctively, he returned the hug. Mitsuri leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Obanai said. The dark haired man ran his hand through her tangled hair. She hummed in agreement. 

Fumiko watched the couple, wishing she had her phone to capture the moment. Her daughter walked out of the bedroom with disheveled hair, a baggy t-shirt, and sleep shorts seeking her boyfriend. With Mitsuri’s other partners, she was constantly worried about her appearance or behavior. She never would have let them see her like this. 

With Obanai though, her eldest daughter seemed content in his arms. Obanai was going to be around for a long time, Fumiko thought as she smiled to herself. 

October 2024

It was colder than she expected when Mitsuri stepped out of her lime green Beetle. Her yellow hoodie didn’t make a difference as she shivered against the chill air. She and Sushi spent the weekend at Obanai’s house. It was becoming a hassle jumping into their places. Mitsuri wrinkled her nose thinking about how she fell asleep as he played with her hair on the couch. Obanai had to wake her up and remind her that tomorrow was a school day. She left her school badge at her place along with the classroom’s keys. There was no choice, but for her to go back. 

Mitsuri pulled Sushi’s carrier out of the passenger seat and walked into her one story house. She set the carrier down and let her cat out. He looked at the front door and mewled. He missed his friend Kaburamaru as much as she missed Obanai it seemed. 

“I know, Sush,” Mitsuri said as she took off her hoodie and shoes. The white and red cat meowed again and batted at the front door as if pleading to go back. Pulling out her phone, she started typing a message and then retyping a message, unsure how to ask without asking to move in with him. She brought her fingers to her lips as she walked to her bedroom and sat on the bed.

Her closet was sparse. There were a handful of her work clothes and casual wear. The rest was empty metal hangers and accessories. The majority of her clothes were in Obanai’s dresser and closet. Each time she went to his house she brought another piece over. 

“This is silly,” Mitsuri muttered. They were already engaged. Wasn’t that a step ahead of moving in together on the relationship trajectory? Actually, who cared? She clicked on the call button and waited for her fiancé to pick up. On the first ring he answered. 

“Are you okay?” Obanai asked immediately. Concern edged his voice. Normally, she would send him a text she got home safely instead of calling. 

“We should move in together,” Mitsuri blurted out. She laid back in the bed to stare at her ceiling. “I mean, we’re spending every weekend at your place. When I come back to my house it doesn’t feel right because you’re not here. I like waking up beside you. I like making a grocery list with you. I like playing rock, paper, scissors to decide who is going to vacuum or clean the bathroom. I like knowing when I come home you’ll be there waiting for me with a delicious meal. Tonkatsu, ramen, curry, soba, mochi, yakitori-” Now her mouth was watering. 

“So, you want to move in because I cook for you?” Obanai teased her. She shook her head even though he could not see her. 

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Mitsuri denied, her voice rising slightly. “I do like when you make me food, but it’s the meaning behind it. It shows how you pay attention to my preferences and care enough to remember them. You’ve always been thoughtful and I love that about you.” She fiddled with the tips of her hair. “My point is we should move in together.”

“Okay, let’s move in together,” Obanai agreed. 

A weight in her chest lifted with his words, one she had not realized she was holding onto. It was another step towards their future together. 

Most of Mitsuri’s furniture went into a storage unit. They went through their respective furniture and decided to keep Obanai’s bed frame and kitchen table and bring her couch and coffee table in. Obanai’s house didn’t have enough room to bring the rest of the furniture as their lives merged further. Obanai and Sanemi were on their way to unload the larger pieces of furniture. 

 Now, Mitsuri was packing her kitchen with Kanae. The sound of tape sealing another box sent tingles down Mitsuri’s back. It was really happening. Her lease did not end until December officially, so she could pack a little at a time and not stress. When she told Obanai she would try her best to help him with his mortgage he told her not to worry. His money with their money. 

When they told their friends about the move, Tengen was the first one to offer his help with Kyojuro close behind. They helped load the moving truck earlier. Obanai did not trust them to carefully pack Mitsuri’s kitchen and sentimental items. They would have thrown everything in a box without wrapping it in paper. Mitsuri laughed thinking of Obanai directing Tengen and Kyojuro away from the kitchen.

“Can I admit something?” Kanae pursed her lips and averted her gaze.

“Yes…?” Mitsuri said, unsure of how to respond. They did not keep secrets from each other normally.

“Do you remember when the boys went out for Tengen’s birthday last year?” Kanae asked, rubbing her elbow. Mitsuri nodded as Kanae looked back up. “Well, Tengen mentioned something about Obanai and you spending so much time together and I told him you liked Obanai. My drunk brain thought if Tengen got Sanemi and I together, he could help you and Obanai,” the botanist revealed, flushing.

“It’s not like we hid it well,” Mitsuri said. Kanae held up her hand.

“That’s not all of it.” Her friend cleared her throat. “When you handed me your keys, I knew you wouldn’t be able to get into your house. I hoped Obanai would invite you over and you two would start going out. It was childish, but I guess it doesn’t matter now.” 

“You did that for me?” Mitsuri asked. Kanae bobbed her head in confirmation. “Come here,” the pink haired woman pulled her best friend into her arms. 

Early November 2024

The emptiness returned like it had never left sweeping past the defenses he had built. 

As soon as he returned from work Obanai crawled into his bed. All it took was watching a mother talk sternly to her son at the restaurant. The mother grasped her son’s wrist and chided him for grabbing another mochi. He grinded his teeth. 

The woman’s long black hair and manicured nails were too much like his mother’s. His own mother would have left bruises. Purple and blue marks on his wrist and then she would say she wouldn’t have done it if he had just listened. That was always the excuse. He had to listen and be her perfect, pretty boy. He’d never know the true reason she abused him. No, there was no reason to justify hurting a child. 

She never should have hurt you. 

Even with the mantra, Obanai could not escape the emptiness. It crept in like a fog. Nothing and then everything blurred. Then he realized the date, November 4th. The anniversary of his family’s death and his escape. The scent of frying oil overwhelmed his senses and he could feel the greasy cuts of meat his mother forced him to eat. Obanai left earlier, leaving Sabito in charge of the lunch shift. 

Now he laid in bed with his face buried in a pillow. The white sheets pushed to Mitsuri’s side of the bed. He counted his breaths, named the green objects in the room, and now he was attempting to identify the exact emotion, but there was nothing outside of his initial response. Anger and fear before he shut down. It was a defense mechanism. He thought he was over this. 

Recovery is not linear.

Another mantra, but this one was easier to digest. The last time he had dissociated this heavily was last year at this time. Maybe he should prepare next year if this happens again. He sighed and turned his head to the nightstand. It was only 3:02 P.M. Mitsuri would be home soon if she wasn’t pulling into the driveway now. 

She saw him worse than this. At least this time he wouldn’t be a crying mess on the ground thinking he lost his mind with the memories of their deaths surfacing. The dreams were less frequent. The last dream memory was a month ago. He went on a mission with Sanemi to locate a demon kidnapping women. They found the demon who led them to what they would later learn was the Infinity Castle. It marked the beginning of the storm. His stomach churned. A storm no one survived.

Mitsuri hummed the latest IYKYK song as she opened the front door. Obanai’s Jeep was in the driveway, which was an oddity. Normally when he worked the lunch shift he wouldn’t be back until 4:00 P.M. She toed her flats off and set them on the mat next to Obanai’s work shoes. Sushi raced out from under the couch. He weaved between her legs. Mitsuri bent down and scratched his ears. 

“You act like you haven’t seen me in years,” she said. The cat meowed and pushed his head into her hand. Mitsuri chuckled before she stood. “Oba?” Her voice echoed down the hall. No response. Maybe he was taking a shower and couldn’t hear her. She walked down the hall towards their bedroom. Obanai laid on the bed still in his work clothes, which made her tilt her head. 

“Hey,” Mitsuri said and sat down beside him. “You didn’t say anything when I called. Are you feeling okay?” She rested her hand over his forehead to check his temperature. No fever. His blue and gold eyes flicked up, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Obanai?” She asked again the fear rising in her voice. 

“No,” Obanai answered. He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s the anniversary of my family’s deaths. I thought I would be fine. I thought I was done. I thought I was better than this.” His tone lowered as he gestured to himself and the bed. Obanai tried to focus on his fiancé’s face, but it was covered by a cloud of fog. 

“You are,” Mitsuri reminded him, “but today is different. You’re allowed to have your down days.  It’s part of being human. As long as they are not everyday. If they are, we can figure it out together.” Her hand moved to his cheek and she caressed his scars. “Do you want to talk about it?” Mitsuri asked. He was quiet before shaking his head. 

“Can you just lay here with me?” He nearly pleaded. His eyes still had difficulty focusing. 

“Of course,” Mitsuri replied as she leaned down to lay beside him. Until Obanai was ready to talk, she could be present as Dr. Ubuyashiki suggested. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. She scooted closer so their noses almost touched.

“Thank you,” Obanai breathed and pulled her closer. Her vanilla-cherry blossom scent comforted him. They didn’t have to talk right now. They could lay here forever if he wanted because she would always be there for him and him for her. 

They spent the majority of the weekend in bed. On Saturday, Mitsuri began discussing when and where she wanted their wedding. Obanai listened, barely speaking unless she asked his direct opinion. She would prefer June before it became too warm or humid. Mitsuri picked out two possible locations. The first was the winery Sanemi and Kanae married at and the other was a garden beside a castle. Obanai pointed out that June was the rainiest month of the year, but agreed to the garden with Mitsuri’s insistence. She dreamt of an outdoor wedding since she was a child. 

Eventually, Obanai opened up about why he felt down. It was linked to his childhood abuse and seeing a woman who resembled his mother scold her son. The trigger initiated his trauma response and it spiralled from there. Mitsuri listened, careful not to interject with the myriad of questions she had. She did not want to side track him as he exposed more of his past to her. His mother would bruise his wrists when he failed to answer her the exact way she wanted. She changed her expectations daily. It seemed that no matter what he did or said his mother would find a reason to fault him. 

“My brain shuts down and I go into autopilot mode to protect myself. It’s not a healthy response, but once I’m there I have a hard time stopping,” Obanai explained. “Dr. Ubuyashiki suggested shocking my nervous system by splashing cold water on my face or taking a walk, but that’s out of the question,” he sighed and looked away.

Mitsuri followed his line of sight to the window. Rain hit the glass, the sound creating white noise. There was one street light they could see from their kitchen. 

“Let’s go for a walk then,” Mitsuri said, standing up. 

“You’re not serious, are you?” Obanai tilted his head as his eyes focused on her face. 

“One hundred percent serious,” Mitsuri confirmed. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was about to smile at her antics. “Come on,” she said as she offered her hand. He extended his arm, grasping her hand, and Mitsuri pulled him up from the chair. 

“There’s an umbrella in the entry closet,” Obanai said. She shook her head as she led him towards the front door. 

“Aren’t you supposed to feel the water on your face?” She questioned. He nodded. “Then we can’t use an umbrella.” Mitsuri donned her yellow duck rain booties and Obanai put on his less entertaining black boots before they walked outside. The rain hit their faces, stunning Obanai for a moment. Each drop reminded him he was alive. 

This is my life. Mitsuri was splashing in the puddles and pulled him in despite his silent protest. Her carefree nature and spontaneous nature made him shake his head. The water soaked through his shoes and socks.  No, this is our life. 

Two weeks passed and Obanai felt more like himself. The sullen emptiness gave way to new experiences including this particular one. Obanai looked at himself in the mirror, baffled by what he saw. He joked about this one time with Mitsuri and she bought it as a gift. She even went as far as to buy herself one and Captain Sushi. Kaburamaru lucked out by not having to wear it. Instead, he was plastered all over the onesie. 

Mitsuri bought him a black onesie with miniature Kaburamarus peppered across the fabric. His fiancé had a pink version. 

“Are you ready?” Mitsuri sang from behind the door. Was it too late to back out now? “I can’t wait to surprise everyone with this Christmas card. It’ll knock their socks off.” 

Obanai pushed open the bathroom door. Mitsuri’s mouth opened and she bounced on the balls of her feet. Her excitement was palpable. The things he was willing to endure for her.

“I’ll grab Kaburamaru,” he said and dipped past her. He found the snake in his enclosure under the heat lamp. It was mid November. 

“Mitsuri made these for us,” he said as he leaned down. Kaburamari flicked out his tongue once in defiancé. “It’ll take ten minutes,” Obanai tried again. Kaburamaru turned his head away. He tried to offer his friend a treat, extra one on one time, and a day without Sushi. None of them worked. 

He sighed and stood up. Mitsuri stood in the doorway with Sushi bundled in her arms. He already had his outfit on. A red onesie with white snakes. “He doesn’t want to join,” Obanai said. Mitsuri’s brow furrowed and passed Sushi to Obanai. 

Sushi and Obanai looked at each other and accepted their new circumstances as Mitsuri walked towards the closet. She threw open the door and grabbed a shoe box off the top shelf. Mitsuri hummed to herself as she plucked the item from the box. Obanai squinted as he recognized the Santa hat she Mitsuri made for Kaburamaru last year. Back then, Obanai tried not to be too hopeful that Mitsuri would remain his friend for long enough to celebrate another Christmas together. Now, they were living together and were set to marry next summer. 

Mitsuri sat down beside the enclosure and reached her hand in to let Kaburamaru sniff the Santa hat. “Kabi, you didn’t get to wear this hat last year,” she started. The snake directed his attention to her immediately, intelligent scarlet eyes peering up. “You’ll look adorable in the pictures. I promise,” Mitsuri said. Slowly, the white snake uncoiled and slithered up Mitsuri’s arm to wrap around her shoulders. 

“Now we have everyone,” Mitsuri cheered. 

“Are you ready?” Mitsuri asked again. 

“If you are,” Obanai said with a nod. She put the Santa hat on Kaburamaru’s head with the elastic strap settled under his throat to keep it in place. 

“Now we are,” the woman beamed. Kaburamaru flicked out his tongue twice in approval for the hat. Mitsuri could win over anyone. No one in this family would deny her. They wanted to see her happy even if it meant embarrassing themselves with snake onesies, Santa hats, and Christmas cards. 

December 2024

“I’m here,” Mitsuri said excitedly into the phone. It was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve. Her train had been delayed to Hiroshima. She was supposed to get here before 9 P.M. She exited the doors with her suitcase. The winter wind hit her face and she shivered. She wore her blush pink coat and white beanie. It still bit through the coat and layers of clothes. 

“I’m outside the gate,” her fiancé said, his smooth voice was like a gentle touch these days while they were separated. 

“But I said I’d meet you at the hotel since I was delayed. You didn’t have to stay up for me,” Mitsuri said and walked towards the gate. He already had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep until I knew you got here safely,” Obanai explained. Then she saw him in his black coat and beanie and a giddiness filled her. It was a wonder if she was ever going to lose this feeling when they reunited. Her mind was weightless as he smiled widely from across the station. It was the smile where his eyes closed slowly as if he was still wearing the mask or bandages. She grasped her phone tighter and charged. Obanai was never one for public displays of affection. She crashed into him and breathed in the familiar amber-pine scent. Obanai held her and stroked her long hair. 

“Did you miss me?” He asked jokingly. 

“Of course.” Mitsuri hugged him tighter. Her hands were cold, but her heart was warm. “I love you,” she murmured into his shoulder. 

“Love you too,” he said, rubbing her back. They embraced for another few seconds before another breeze swept by. “It’s a short walk,” Obanai said, separating them. He offered to take her suitcase, she gave him her hand instead. “You’re wearing your ring,” he commented, squeezing her hand tighter. The pearl ring reminded them of their promise. 

“I thought it’d be nice,” Mitsuri said. So far she had only worn it at home with Obanai. They were going to tell their families and friends they were engaged on tomorrow. After they moved in together, it was a foregone conclusion. At least that’s what her sister Meesha said. “I can’t wait to hear everyone’s reaction.” 

“Everyone, but Kyojuro you mean?” Obanai asked. 

His brother surprised the couple one evening to deliver a housewarming present. Mitsuri answered the door with her engagement ring on and it took Kyojuro less than a second to notice. He had been more than thrilled and took every opportunity afterward to tease them. 

During Sanemi’s birthday party at the end of November, Kyojuro said he couldn’t wait to officiate another wedding before looking pointedly at Mitsuri and Obanai. The day before Obanai left for Hiroshima they had dinner with the Rengokus. Kyojuro had the nerve to hum the wedding march whenever Mitsuri entered a room. Senjuro told Kyojuro not to embarrass Mitsuri or Obanai and gave the couple a shy smile before returning to work on his quilt. Shinjuro bopped Kyojuro on the head in warning and asked Mitsuri to forgive his son’s rudeness. Mitsuri waved it off while Obanai glared at Kyojuro. 

“He’s just excited for us,” Mitsuri defended her mentor. “I hope everyone is as excited for us.” A small doubt surfaced thanks to her previous engagement. It was almost two years ago. Her family reluctantly gave their blessing because they thought Kyo would make her happy. It loomed over her now. How would they react to this? Her parents seemed to like Obanai, but what if? She closed her eyes tightly, attempting to banish the pessimistic spiral. 

“They will be,” Obanai reassured her. His thumb grazed the back of her hand and the ring. Her heart fluttered. It only took a few words from him to put her mind at ease.

As they walked, Mitsuri noticed the bright lights of the city. Christmas lights were strung up across the alleyways and convenience stores. The snow crunched under their shoes and Mitsuri had to look down to make sure she didn’t slip on the pavement. She shared stories about her time with her family as if they had not been talking most nights or sending pictures. Her personal favorite was the image of the Kanrojis’ oldest cat dressed up as Yoshi from Mario. 

“Next time you should have all of them dressed up as Mario characters,” Obanai suggested. Mitsuri wrinkled her nose thinking of the four cats as Princess Peach, Mario, Luigi, and Daisy. 

“I don’t know if Tohru would wear a dress. Maybe she could be Wario instead.” Mitsuri nodded as if confirming the idea. Obanai smiled at his future bride as she added more details to the suggestion. 

Eventually, she decided Kaburamaru and Sushi would have to join the cast. He stifled a chuckle thinking of the snake with a red and white mushroom cap. No doubt Mitsuri would make it without a moment’s hesitation. The snake already had ten hats Mitsuri made him over the past few months for his birthday, holidays, and just for fun. There was even a mention of a pinstripe bow tie for the wedding. 

On Christmas morning, Mitsuri called her family to tell them she was engaged. Her parents said they knew the announcement was coming soon. Obanai asked for their blessing in the beginning of December. Her father had been reluctant, but Fumiko persuaded him. Shinjuro was pleased and Senjuro said he’d start making them a quilt as a wedding gift. Tengen started planning their engagement party with his wives within a day. Sanemi was shocked and didn’t believe it until Mitsuri sent the group a picture of the ring. Kanae would give Mitsuri her wedding plan guides. Shinobu and Giyuu said they would fly in for the wedding. Gyomei called them crying and expressed how happy he was to hear his two close friends were getting married. 

And just like that, their engagement was no longer a secret.

Nichirin’s new location was similar to the original. High tables, strategic lighting to create an intimate setting for the guests, and the delicious smell of fresh food. Mitsuri felt her mouth watering already. She sat next to the table nearest to the kitchen. Obanai invited her for the soft opening along with his biological father and half sister. She shifted in her seat. Obanai asked them to arrive at 9:00 P.M. It was supposed to towards the end of the night, so the kitchen would be able to manage itself. 

It would be her first time meeting them. Obanai met Akira two weeks ago. He explained his upbringing and part of the abuse he endured at Tamami’s hands, specifically the scars on his cheeks. His father apologized again for not knowing or being there. According to Obanai, Akira seemed deeply regretful for the circumstances of Obanai’s birth and childhood. Nothing could be done except to move forward, which is why he invited Akira and Mimi to the restaurant’s opening. 

Mitsuri scanned the front doors. Standing in front of the hostess station, there was a man with greying hair and two colored eyes and a woman with dark brown hair and teal eyes. That had to be them. Her mind hummed in anticipation and fiddled with her sushi earrings. The hostess flagged down a waiter and whispered in his ear. The waiter nodded and went into the kitchen to find Obanai. 

A minute later Obanai emerged from the double doors. He was wearing a white chef’s coat with a black apron. At work he still wore a face mask despite the heat. It was a shame in Mitsuri’s opinion. His eyes widened briefly, laying eyes on his sister for the first time. Akira and Mimi noticed Obanai and waved. They made their way over to the table. 

Obanai couldn’t look away from the woman walking towards him. She had sable hair, nearly black and blue-green eyes. She looked eerily familiar to his past lives’ sisters and cousins. The women who treated him like livestock, yet she was nothing like that. Her smile was crooked and her gaze had no malice. She had been the one to recognize the similarities between Akira and Obanai and actively wanted to meet him. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Mimi said, her voice lower than Obanai anticipated. “You look just like Dad,” Mimi added. “I know I saw your picture, but you even have his eye crinkle.” She leaned in closer to inspect her half brother. Did she understand what personal space was? He took a step back. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m Fujihara Takumi, but everyone calls me Mimi,” his half sister said, realizing her mistake. 

“Same here, Mimi,” Obanai replied. “Go ahead and take a seat.” The chef pointed to the chairs across from Mitsuri. “There’s someone else I wanted you and Akira to meet.” Mitsuri straightened her posture and flashed the Fujiharas a smile. How often did you introduce your fiancé to your long lost bio father and half sister? “This is Kanroji Mitsuri, my fiancé,” he said proudly, gesturing to the pink haired woman. Tonight she was wearing a cream sweater dress with sushi earrings. Her cheeks flushed from the cold and partially nerves. It was the first time he said the words to someone other than her. At least in person. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kanroji,” Akira said formally, taking a seat. “Congratulations on your engagement.” Mimi sat across from Mitsuri.

“Gorgeous,” Mimi said, inspecting the ring. 

“It’s an honor, Mr. Fujihara and Ms. Fujihara.” Mitsuri bowed her head. “I’ve been looking forward to this. Obanai said you were the one who figured out Akira was his father, right?” Mitsuri asked, trying to make conversation. 

“Yep. Just look at them,” Mimi said, pointing between the two men. “It’d be more surprising if they weren’t related. I’ve always wanted a brother or sister, so I was over the moon to find out my brother was a famous chef.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Obanai countered. The back of his neck tingled. His half sister shook her head. 

“I would. Rokuro only puts the best of the best on his food blog and after twenty years, I’d say he knows what makes a great chef. He mentioned the tonkatsu was some of the best he ever had, is that on the menu tonight?” Mimi questioned. 

“Yes, it’s one of the most popular dishes,” Obanai answered. He had been sure to have it on the menu along with the sakura mochi Mitsuri adored. His sister’s teal eyes brightened. 

“I’ll have that and whatever else you recommend,” Mimi said. Obanai took Akira and Mitsuri’s orders next before returning to the kitchen. This kitchen was more streamlined than the original location. The plating station was easier for the waiters to access. There were fridges for specific items and cutting stations beside them. It prevented the kitchen staff from crawling over each other trying to find an ingredient or utensil. He should ask Mr. Tecchikawahara to redesign aspects of the original. 

It took about ten minutes to send out appetizers and then another twenty to finish his family’s individual meals. Obanai carried out two plates of tonkatsu and another of Chawanmushi for Akira. One of the waiters followed with steamed rice, ginger salad, and seaweed salad. The ceramic plates clinked on the table when he set them down. He sat next to Mitsuri and removed his mask.

Mimi stared at the scars, trying her best not to grimace. Obanai gave Akira permission to tell her about his scars, but being told about them and seeing them were different. Her expression did not phase him like it had in the past by strangers. They were another part he learned to accept. 

The rest of the evening Obanai spent getting to know his biological family. His sister was in medical school and hoped to go into neurology research. Mimi and Mitsuri bonded over their shared love of food, cats, and gothic novels. She even joked that she learned to love reading from Akira. Apparently, he read poetry to Mimi as a child. It was clear Akira cared deeply for his daughter. 

Eventually, the night came to an end. Akira and Mimi thanked Obanai for meeting them and asked to see the couple before they left the city. Obanai agreed and wished them a Happy New Year. 

January 2025

“Pick one,” Mitsuri said, holding out three separate Save the Date cards. They were sitting at the kitchen table. Their wedding planner book set out on the table along with a slew of brochures from florists, photographers, and caterers. They booked the venue last week and would be wed on June 21. 

“They’re face down.” Obanai pointed at the blank white cards. Mitsuri looked down and then flipped them over so he could see each one. The first was a simple modern design with white letters and a black background. The next had a cream background with rustic letters surrounded by sunflowers and the last one was the most elaborate with a rainbow and a bright blue funky font. He pulled the last one out and tossed it to the side. 

“Too loud,” the dark haired man stated plainly. He held up the other two cards, contemplating which would be more suitable for their wedding. He preferred the simple monochrome design, however Mitsuri painted her world with watercolors. A dark sunflower basking in your embrace. He recalled one of his poems.

“The sunflower one,” Obanai answered and handed it back. She beamed and wrote down on a sticky note, Winner! 🩷💚🩷 She was incredibly adorable throughout this planning process. She had her binder of ideas, color coded sticky notes, and gel pens. Even though he helped with Kanae and Sanemi’s wedding, he had no idea how detailed it could be. Mitsuri had a section solely dedicated to napkins and silverware.

“Should we ask Kyojuro to marry us?” Mitsuri asked, looking up at Obanai. “He did such a great job with Kanae and Sanemi’s wedding. Plus, he’s your brother,” she added. Obanai knew Kyojuro seemed like the most logical choice.

“Actually,” he started, “Kyojuro had his chance to shine with Kanae and Sanemi. I’d prefer Gyomei. He always supported us.” He ran his thumb over Mitsuri’s hand. “In our other life, he said he’d made lunch plans with you, but couldn’t make it and asked for me to go in his stead. Afterwards, he was the one who suggested I should start writing letters to you, so Gyomei should be the one to officiate our wedding.”

His fiancé lit up at the mention of their past life. She had a fondness for it that he did not. Naturally, Mitsuri sought out the positive aspects of it instead of dwelling on everything that went wrong. Obanai could not alter the past, but the bitterness ate at his soul if he thought for too long on the subject. The regrets he had about the way he perceived himself and others. 

“He would be fantastic!” Mitsuri said, clasping his hand. Her touch brought him back to the present. “Oh my goodness, we can set up a PowerPoint and put the emojis in our vows,” she said, her eyes flashing mischievously. 

“Not a chance,” Obanai said. “We’re not using emojis at our wedding.” 

“Please?” Mitsuri asked.

“No.” Obanai usually gave Mitsuri whatever she asked for, but he couldn’t permit this. Maybe he’d spoiled her too much. Mitsuri stuck out her tongue in defiance before laughing. His heart felt light hearing her bell like laughter. 

February 2025

12:33 A.M.

Obanai glanced at the dashboard clock and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had promised to be home before midnight, but cleaning the restaurant took longer than he anticipated. Although he'd sent a message to Mitsuri she had not responded. 

This was their first Valentine’s Day together and they had only seen each other that morning before Mitsuri left for work. Then he was only supposed to work the lunch shift, which extended into the dinner shift. He worked long enough in the industry to know Valentine’s Day was one of the busiest days. How foolish.

He sighed and opened his car door. Mitsuri probably fell asleep waiting for him. His mouth twisted uncomfortably as he pulled out his house keys. He would apologize when she woke. Obanai would do anything she wanted to make it up to her. He was the one who ruined their plans. He unlocked and opened the door. 

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light. Obanai toed off his work shoes and placed them on the rubber mat in the front entry. Before he turned to walk down the hall to their bedroom, he paused. The living room walls were decorated with white, pink, green, and black hearts and a string of what looked up to be Christmas lights. The coffee table was pushed out of the way to make room for a cream blanket on the floor. On top of the blanket was a selection of gummy worms, Nerds clusters, truffles, and other candies. What was going on? 

“You’re here!” Mitsuri said enthusiastically as she appeared from the kitchen, holding another bowl. “I made us a picnic-Well, an indoor picnic, but it still counts.” She smiled and walked up to him. He could smell the faint scent of vinegar as he glanced at the bowl in her hands. She made his favorite, Sunomono with Tororo Kombu and even added the toasted sesame seeds. 

“Did you plan all of this?” Obanai asked.

“Not quite,” Mitsuri said. “I had the decorations and hearts in my classroom, so I decided to use them. It’s cute, right?” She beamed as she looked towards the living room. 

“Yeah,” Obanai agreed and she smiled even wider. “You’re not mad then?” He asked. 

“Why would I be mad?” Mitsuri tilted her head and squinted her eyes. 

“You wanted to spend our first Valentine’s Day together and I ruined it. I said I was going to be home before midnight, but it’s well past it.” Obanai gestured to the clock on the TV stand. 12:38 A.M. She nodded in understanding. 

“Initially, I was disappointed. It’s my favorite holiday, so I wanted to spend our first Valentine’s Day together.” She paused to look down. His heart quickened as her green eyes sparkled upon seeing her engagement ring. “I wanted it to be special, but then I remembered every day is special because we are together.” 

Obanai raised his hand up to her cheek. She leaned her head into his palm. Last year, he would have been mortified touching her like this. He leaned forward to kiss her as she began to close her eyes. Her compassionate and thoughtful nature was one of the first parts he fell in love with. 

“You’ll never cease to amaze me, Mitsuri,” he whispered, touching their foreheads together. Her cheeks tinted pink. 

March 2025

On March 1st, Mitsuri saw a bride in the mirror. A woman dressed in a wedding gown stared back. The sweetheart neckline and corset accentuated her hourglass figure. There were no sleeves, so her well defined freckled arms were on display. The ivory shade of the gown complemented her skin tone. Pink cherry blossoms and leaves were embroidered into the sheer white fabric as if they were scattered in the wind. The train flared out behind her as the blossoms and leaves drifted to the ground. Water pricked at her eyes. The flowers matched her green tipped hair and made her eyes seem to sparkle. 

This is the one. Mitsuri flashed a smile at the woman in the mirror. At first she had been worried how her arms would look in a sleeveless gown, but they showed her hard work and determination. She held the skirt up and twirled. The skirt flew up making a perfect circle before it settled to the carpeted floor. 

“So, what do you think of this one?” The dress attendant handed her a tissue. Mitsuri took it and nodded. 

“I love it,” she said with her voice cracking. She tried on different styles, but this one seemed on another level. Mitsuri turned to face her mother, sisters, Kanae, and Gyomei. “This is my wedding dress.”

Fumiko and Kanae’s eyes moistened while Meesha and Hinata rose to hug their sister. Gyomei clapped his hands together, shocking the rest of Mitsuri’s entourage with the volume. Mitsuri laughed lightly and stepped down from the pedestal. She couldn’t wait for Obanai to see her. 

April 2025

Mitsuri sighed as Obanai weaved his fingers through her hair, dispersing the argan oil from her scalp to tips. It was a simple ritual they started when she moved in. He was curious about her hair care routine, so she led him through it. 

She’d shower after work, allowing the warm water to rinse over her sore muscles. The shower allowed her to ease the tension and stress from work. Afterwards Mitsuri dried off her body and changed into pajamas. Then she stood in front of the mirror to oil and brush her waist length hair. Once it was smooth and free of knots, she would begin braiding her signature style. 

Now they’ve been living together for six months and her routine became their routine. Mitsuri sat on the floor in front of the couch settled between Obanai’s legs. While he brushed her hair starting with the ends, she talked about her day. Obanai hummed his agreement or commented. The task became second nature to him as he runs the brush over her hair. 

The soft tugs brough her comfort as her long tresses fell down her back. She closed her eyes, reveling in the simplicity. Obanai set the brush on the coffee table. He massaged her scalp. She leaned her head back and blindly reached up to caress his face. The scar’s ridges have become so familiar she would be able to trace them from memory. He leaned down to kiss her lightly. 

“You’re going to mess up your hair,” Obanai scolded, stroking her face. Mitsuri opened her eyes to see his teasing smile. This gentle teasing was reserved solely for her. She lifted her head and stared in front of her again. 

“One of the parents brought in homemade cookies for a student’s birthday. They made matcha latte tea cookies. They were nice enough to give me the recipe, so we should try making them this weekend,” Mitsuri rambled. 

“They weren’t too sweet, were they?” He asked. Mitsuri began to shake her head, but he held her head in place to stop her. “What did I say about messing up your hair?” He asked with a hint of amusement. She laughed and continued to discuss her day. 

Obanai separated her hair into three sections. He threaded one section into three and threading her pink and green locks into a braid. Over, under, over, under. He tied it off with a hair tie that matched the color of her green tips. 

She swore she could fall asleep as his deft fingers work. Every movement reminded her of his methodical nature. He wasted no actions, even with something as mundane as hair braiding. The thought brought a smile to her face. He told her once that braiding her hair helped him relax. He finished the last braid and kissed the crown of her head. 

May 2025

Obanai knocked on his father’s office door. It was open, but Shinjuro was engrossed in his reading. His greying hair was pulled back into a bun. “I have a favor to ask,” Obanai started. Mitsuri was in the living room with Kyojuro and Senjuro. They were making gift bags for the wedding. The minute Mitsuri mentioned glitter, Obanai decided to take the opportunity to speak with his father. Shinjuro glanced up from his papers on the desk. 

“Do you need money for the wedding?” Shinjuro asked. Obanai waved his hand dismissively. . 

“We have enough, but thank you,” Obanai said and exhaled one breath. “No, this is more personal. It’s something I should have said yes to years ago.” He swallowed and stepped into the office. Shinjuro’s brow rose skeptically as Obanai approached the ashwood desk. 

“When you first adopted me you asked if I wanted to take your name and I said no. I didn’t think I was worthy of it.” Like so many other things I believed. Inwardly, he grimaced. He tried not to fall down the pessimistic spiral. “I thought I would tarnish it. I thought I was worse than scum-that I deserved to keep my name as a reminder of what I had done to my mother and cousins. It was the only way for them to live if I kept their name. That wasn’t true,” Obanai explained. His father’s facial expression relaxed. 

“That was never the case,” Shinjuro confirmed and set the papers down. He stood and came around the desk to stand in front of Obanai. Obanai tilted his head up to meet his father’s gaze. 

“With your blessing, I’d like to be a Rengoku, officially.” Obanai bit the inside of his lip. His stomach churned as seconds felt like hours. Shinjuro brought his hand to his son’s shoulder and squeezed. 

 “Of course. You’ve been a Rengoku since the day you came to live with us,” the older man said. The knot in his stomach released and the scars on his face pulled lightly. 

“Thank you.” He bowed his head in gratitude briefly before lifting it again. 

“You’re welcome, Obi. Did you speak with Mitsuri before asking me?” Shinjuro glanced towards the hallway where they could hear Senjuro, Kyojuro, and Mitsuri talking. 

“Actually, she was the one that suggested it,” Obanai said. Last week, Mitsuri wrote down ‘Iguro Mitsuri’ on a sheet of paper and Obanai could not hide his distaste. The Iguro name was riddled with memories of deceit, suffering, and abuse. Everything Mitsuri wasn’t and he did not want her associated with it. She asked if he would prefer ‘Rengoku Mitsuri’ then. It seemed like a simple solution, but if they were going to change their last name he had to get his father’s permission. 

“Ah,” Shinjuro hummed and dropped his hand to his side. “Then I suppose we’ll have another Rengoku. She reminds me a bit of Ruka sometimes.” His father’s face softened recalling his wife. “She had an uncanny ability to read people and empathize with them. You’re lucky to have found her,” he mused. 

Again. He wanted to say, but paused. Shinjuro did not recall their past lives. That Shinjuro fell to the sake bottle after his wife’s death and the realization that flame breathing was a lesser form. It brought his inferiority complex to the forefront. After Kyojuro’s death, Shinjuro hit the wall and he was forced to face his demons. 

“I know,” Obanai agreed. 

June 2025

Everything was in place for their wedding. Each detail was prepared under the watchful eye of Mrs. Kanroji. It was a small affair with their families and close friends. Fifty people were invited. There were two lines of seats with a green carpet to mimic the grass. Most of the guests were seated except for Tengen and Makio. In her eighth month of pregnancy, she could not sit for long before getting uncomfortable. Suma, Hinastusu, and Kannon were in the back row. Shinjuro and Senjuro sat in the front row along with Mrs. Kanroji and the rest of the Kanroji clan. They were surrounded by their loved ones, the people who have been rooting for them since the beginning. 

Obanai stood under the white arch decorated with ivy, fairy lights, and a mixture of yellow, maroon, and dark sunflowers. Gyomei was in the middle as the officiant. Kyojuro and Sanemi next to Obanai while Kanae and Meesha were on the other side. The only person missing was the bride. He touched each finger to his thumb slowly. The silicon snake toy was tucked in his pants pocket. 

Piano cords began playing and everyone’s gaze turned to the front of the aisle. Obanai could not breathe properly when he saw the bride. She looked like a bride from a wedding catalogue. Her pastel hair fell in loose waves down her shoulders. Green tips hit her collar bone. The dress resembled sakura blossoms floating down from the sky. Her bouquet was a mixture of yellow and maroon sunflowers, greenery, and dandelions. He should have guessed as much. She probably picked them up on the way here. 

When their eyes met she smiled. That smile was meant for him. Any worries he had at the beginning vanished. This was Mitsuri, his Mitsuri, his bride, his lover, his everything. This is what they had waited for. The red string of fate pulled taunt as she walked towards him. Mitsuri made it to the front of the aisle and kissed her father’s cheek before joining hands with Obanai. Meesha took her bouquet while Benjiro retreated to his seat next to the rest of the Kanroji clan.

“Hi,” Mitsuri whispered, squeezing his hand. Her eyes were watery, but there was determination beneath the surface. 

“Hi,” he echoed as the corner his lip pulled up. It was finally happening. He was ready to take this next step into the sun with Mitsuri. Suddenly, Gyomei clapped to gather everyone’s attention. 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Gyomei started. “I am pleased to have Obanai and Mitsuri’s friends and family come together to watch these two finally get married. I met them two years ago, but it seems like a lifetime with friends like them.” Water formed at the corners of Gyomei’s eyes. 

“I cannot imagine them with anyone, but each other. Despite Obanai’s terse nature, he is earnest and unwavering loyalty while Mitsuri is a gentle, loving soul. Their relationship is built on trust, compassion, and acceptance. They complement one another and are willing to make up for the other’s shortcomings. It’s beautiful to experience a love like theirs,” Gyomei said. “Mitsuri and Obanai prepared their own vows,” he added, gesturing to the bride. Mitsuri pursed her lips and bobbed her head up and down. 

“When we met, you said you were full of surprises. I just didn’t realize one of them was going to be falling in love and finding the person I want to marry,” Mitsuri said. And in one sentence, she once again left him speechless. “Ever since you’ve surprised me with your kindness, wit, and sincerity. You encouraged me to be myself, you reassured me when I doubted myself, you accepted me for being me when I thought no one ever would.” She blinked away the tears, but failed as her eyes reddened. “Thank you for loving me, Oba,” she whispered. He pulled a tissue from his pocket to wipe away her tears. He anticipated this. She patted her eyes and nose. 

“Is this the part where I use the heart emoji?” Obanai whispered in her ear where the crowd would not be able to see. Mitsuri tried to stifle a laugh, but failed as she snorted once. 

“You’ve always made me laugh. I just… I love you so much and I’m excited to see where life takes us,” Mitsuri said cheerfully. “Your turn,” she added as if she was passing him a ball during recess. He nearly laughed, but bit it down. 

After all this time, it was his turn to vow his life and love to Mitsuri. He had his vows memorized for the last two weeks, but he wrote them in December. He made adjustments to them since then, trying to make them as near perfect as he could. 

“Before we met I never thought I deserved to be loved, but you proved me wrong. Since the moment we met, I was drawn to you. You were unlike anyone I ever met. You were unapologetically yourself. You radiated kindness, compassionate, and warmth. Like the sun, your smile would brighten my day. You showed me how to enjoy life's simplicities like picking dandelions or watching the sun rise and set. You find joy in the smallest ways and I love that. I love you and I want to thank you for loving me and showing me that I deserve to be loved," Obanai said. Mitsuri's eyes reddened as tears fell down her cheeks. He felt his tear ducts threatening to do the same.

"I promise to make you sakura mochi or any food whenever you ask. I promise to keep learning how to use emojis properly," he vowed. Mitsuri chuckled. "Lastly, I promise to make you happy, Mitsuri, if you agree to take me as your husband," he said. Mitsuri didn't miss the reference.

"Of course," she said, mirroring his past response. His heart thudded loudly against his chest. They finally fulfilled their promise.