You hadn’t particularly needed to go to work at the infirmary today. You’d only said it out of petulance due to Tomioka seemingly not taking a single day off from his work– not even for being married. Nonetheless, when the sun reflected on the wall opposite the window panes, you rose from bed.
Tomioka was not yet home. Perhaps debriefing his patrols with the other hashira, perhaps reporting to Master Ubuyashiki. Whatever it was, his duty kept him from home for long hours.
You dressed. Western clothing this time, a simple white blouse and a paleish blue skirt that loosely clung to your curves and draped down to your lower calves. The older folk complained; more and more these days, the young women of the Taisho era wore Western skirts. Father would be no exception to the complaints. Despite this, you fastened the buttons anyway. Western clothes used fewer layers; it was easier to move, less restrictive around the waist– perfectly fitting for a healer at the infirmary.
Unless Giyu was a conservative man?
Silver refracted light against the wall as you stilled, a simple necklace held in your frozen hand. Would Giyu prefer it if you wore a yukata and refrained from jewelry? Self-doubt caused you to waver before ultimately setting the necklace down. The young wife would play it safe today. Modest western clothes and no jewelry. Perhaps, if Giyu truly was the traditional type, you would go with a mild scolding and nothing more.
The walk was brisk, and the sun shone hotly, but a pleasant breeze made the leaves rustle soothingly and left the skin cool to the touch. The Water Hashira estate was a thirty-minute walk from the Butterfly Mansion, much closer than the sprawling estates of the l/n clan, and yet, leaving ample time to enjoy the summer weather. You ruminate over the events of the past two days.
No. Dwelling on such things would only drive you to insanity– especially if you attempted to figure out why it was that Tomioka acted the way he did. There was no logical answer to such questions, and it was better not to think at all than stress yourself out wondering.
The infirmary was straightforward. It didn’t require mental stress or worry over every little action. There was a method to each task, a way of doing things that never deviated. Stitching wounds always followed the same process. Clean the skin, thread the needle, keep the thread firm but not too taut as each suture is stitched. Cherry had promised marriage would have a similar rhythm, so long as you followed her instructions and kept to a traditional wife’s practice. Perhaps, either you were not trying hard enough, or Tomioka was an impossible man to please.
Wooden boards creaked softly under your weight as you made your way up the front steps of the infirmary. You slid the front door open, shuffling out of your outside shoes before padding across the hewn-smooth wooden floors. The sound of wood sliding shut made Shinobu step out from her office, peering down the hall.
“You’re here.” The Insect Hashira’s eyebrows raised, her expression perplexed. “I thought you’d be staying at the Water Hashira Estate– with Tomioka.”
Her words made you internally wince. “Ah, well, there is work to be done regardless of whether I am married or not.” You murmured, glancing away as you stored your things in your own office. Years of working at the butterfly mansion had resulted in a space of your own. Shinobu followed you into the room.
“It’s nothing I couldn’t handle alone for the rest of the week.” She continued, brows ever so slightly furrowing as she scrutinized the way you stowed your bag in one of the desk drawers. You straightened, shrugging it off. “Nonetheless, I would be bored at the estate alone.”
Shinobu looked perplexed. “Bored? Your husband is there.” She responded bluntly. You winced; this time it showed on your face. Shinobu smirked, casually turning away to hide her expression before you caught it.
“I saw that.”
“What’s it like?” The Insect Hashira blurted, glancing back at you. Curiosity was written plainly on her face. You wrinkled your nose in faux disgust. “You’re nosy.”
Laughter erupted between you two, your shoulders dropping as the air in the room warmed. “It’s fine. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I expected.” The words tumbled from your lips. If there was anyone that could be confided in about the marriage, it would be Shinobu, and yet, still, you hesitated to tell her details. What if it somehow got out that you’d gossiped about your husband? Good wives didn’t gossip. Your father’s reaction would be a scary one, but it was Tomioka’s that you feared the most.
Shinobu sat in the chair across from the simple fir wood desk. “Tomioka is…” She paused for a long while, deliberating on the correct word to use.
“Difficult?” you suggested with a sigh, sitting in your desk chair. She hummed. “That’s one word for him.”
“He’s handsome.” You offered, crossing your arms and leaning back. Shinobu shrugged. “If you say so. His attitude ruins it for me. He needs to speak up more– doesn’t even participate in hashira meetings half the time, not to mention how blunt he is when he does speak.”
You pursed your lips. A good wife would defend, but you didn’t really know him like that, did you? He’d bedded you on the first night; you’d shared one quiet day together… and that was it.
“I think he’s kind.” You murmured, though there was less conviction in your voice this time. It wasn’t that Tomioka was unkind. Of course, it took a significant measure of kind-heartedness to devote one’s life to slaying demons– even for someone like your father, who operated mostly on expectations and traditions.
“Define kind,” Shinobu replied dryly. She shook her head. “I think he’s a good man, really. But…” The insect Hashira trailed off. “Not the kind of man that should be married. I don’t understand why Master Ubuyashiki did that to you. Or your father. Why would they offer you to him?”
You were sullen at her words. What could even be said of the matter? That your father had wanted your clan’s blood to proliferate? That after the death of Rengoku Kyojuro, his hopes that you’d marry into the only other wealthy bloodline of demon slayers had been crushed? Had Master Ubuyashiki tried to smooth over the situation by offering Tomioka Giyu in place of the late Flame Hashira?
“He’s not so bad.” You admitted quietly. “He’s not unkind to me.”
Shinobu shook her head. “You shouldn’t have been married to him. I know it’s all a part of your clan, that an arrangement is inevitable for you but..”
“My father wanted a Hashira.” You said bluntly. “If it was not Tomioka it very well could’ve been Shinazugawa.” At that, Shinobu went quiet. Shinazugawa was a good man, but certainly no better a match than Tomioka. At least the Water Hashira was far less prone to yelling.
Shinobu Kocho, for all her thoughts on how the world ought to be, was just a woman at the end of the day. She could remark that her friend and fellow healer shouldn’t have had an arranged marriage in the first place, that she should have been free to choose a man of her liking, but what good would that do other than dampen the girl’s spirits? It couldn’t be helped in the face of hundreds of years of clan traditions, and it certainly couldn’t be fixed now.
“Have you consummated?” Shinobu glanced up. You straightened, pink rising to your cheeks.
“Yes.”
The answer lacked detail, nor did it convey any sense of excitement or stress. Shinobu blinked, hesitancy in her purple eyes.
“Was it… good?”
You made a face awkwardly, for all their conversations over the years, it had never breached the topic of intimacy before. Shinobu was a woman driven only by her work, and you… Well, you had no experience to speak of until now. “He’s well endowed.”
Shinobu snorted at that, shaking her head and moving to stand up. “That’s it?”
You felt your face grow hot. “What else should I say?” You weren’t about to admit that he’d basically disappeared the second it was over and now was arranging a completely separate room for you. You weren’t foolish enough to think that his behavior was normal ever since the moment he’d arrived late for his own wedding.
Shinobu sighed, halting in the doorway. “Just… be honest if anything is off. Tomioka will never raise a hand to you; I’ve no doubts about that, but it doesn’t mean you should be silent if there are problems.” You nodded, if only to pacify her.
Shinobu Kocho was a free woman– mostly due to the fact that she had no living family to dictate her life. It was a double-edged sword. She wouldn’t understand your predicament. Even if there were problems, what could you do? Even if Tomioka did raise a hand to you, divorce certainly wasn’t an option. This was the lot that women like you had in life. It would be better to internalize the problems and bear the weight of them than complain and let it sour the relationship.
“He immediately went back to work, didn’t he?” Shinobu finally asked bluntly. It wasn’t surprising, albeit irritating. You grimaced, nodding. “The night of our wedding.”
The insect Hashira rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. God forbid that man settle for one night. I can’t say I work any less than he, but I’ve never been married– he is.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Shinobu had been right. There wasn’t much work to be done. Most of the sickbeds were empty. The injured demon slayers that were present in the butterfly mansion were well enough along in their recovery that they didn’t need much looking after beyond meals and recovery exercise.
You resigned yourself to laundry, washing sheets and hanging them along the lines as the sun beat down from above. Shinobu left you to it, and the other girls of the butterfly estate were more than happy to pass the task to another. It was silent work, but somehow, better than doing so at the Water Hashira estate, where the silence felt more like it was closing in on all sides.
The sun had made its arc across the sky. You’d just finished throwing the last sheet over the line to dry overnight when a figure between the billowing linen made you pause.
Tomioka.
He stood still amid the white linens– much akin to an egret poised in the still waters of a lake. “Giyu?” you murmured, hands stilling mid-air where you’d just thrown a sheet over the line.
He slipped between the linens, walls of white dancing in the wind, hiding both of you from view.
“It’s evening.” He announced quietly, standing a few feet away. “I’d assumed you’d be home already.”
A particularly strong gust of wind caused your hair to flutter upwards. You caught it with a faint blush that could have easily been mistaken for spending too much time in the sun today. “I’m sorry, I’ll come home at once. I didn’t realize you were looking for me.”
He didn’t respond, nor did his expression give you anything to work with, as he watched you flit about, hurriedly pinning the last sheet and rushing inside to grab your things. He followed like a shadow. “I wasn’t looking for you,” he said bluntly. “Your father informed me you are not to work at the infirmary anymore.”
At that, you froze. Giyu noted the apprehension in your gaze even as you attempted to smooth over your emotions the same way he did. “I see…” You trailed off hesitantly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
Tomioka caught it before you could fully shoulder the weight. He pulled it towards himself, intending to carry it for you.
“You weren’t aware of this,” he murmured, blue eyes almost hawkish the way he watched your every move. It was almost… unsettling.
“I- no- I mean, it was mentioned before,” You forced out nervously. It was when your father and Cherry had been instructing you on your behavior as a wife. You were to stay home– it was the whole reason that the argument last night had even occurred between you and your new husband. The Water Hashira had said nothing of your work when you mentioned it last night, and now all Tomioka did was stare. For the millionth time, you wished he would say something instead of staring so impassively all the time.
“You don’t want to quit your work.” Once again, he spoke as if everything were a blunt statement. You hesitated. He didn’t look upset by the realization. “No,” the admission passed quietly off your lips, “I don’t.”
He nodded once, brisk, as he turned towards the door, slipping back into his zori and sliding the door to the infirmary open ahead of you. “Then you will keep working as long as you wish.” He said with a tone of finality, as if the matter was settled.
You followed after him, hurriedly slipping on your sandals and sliding the door shut behind yourself before rushing to walk at his side. Tomioka slowed, if only slightly, to accommodate you.
“Won’t my father be upset with you?”
Tomioka made a noncommittal noise. “I’ll handle it,” the stoic man assured.
The interaction left you reeling slightly. Had Tomioka come all the way to the butterfly mansion simply to check on you? Had he any intention of upholding your father’s wishes in the first place? What about this conversation did he need to come here and accompany you home?
Sunlight dappled through the leaves of the canopy above, sending beams of light fluttering through the forest air like swallowtail butterflies in mid-flight. It was serene, from the weather to the warm breeze to the gentle song of the birds. Yet, there was nothing to be enjoyed when you were unable to relax around the stoic man beside you. Tomioka seemed to pick up on this, equally uncomfortable– which was evident in the way he adjusted his haori several times, keeping his gaze pointedly anywhere but his wife.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured suddenly, in a low timbre that could almost be mistaken for gentleness.
You glanced up at him, wide-eyed and lips parted in a soft o of surprise. “For what?” the reply came incredulously, as if you couldn’t possibly understand what a reticent man like him would be sorry for– much less admit his regret over.
Tomioka met your gaze. “For being harsh last night.” He relented. The water hashira glanced away awkwardly, sighing as if he’d rather not have such a conversation.
“It’s natural,” He began slowly, as if it pained him to address such things, “to want intimacy.”
Oh. That was what he was referring to. The way he’d practically shoved you off the night before. If you were honest, the entire ordeal of the past few days had been so overwhelming that you hadn’t stopped to mull over the situation. However, it was clear that Tomioka had.
“I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.” He continued. “It is my duty as a husband to give you what you need. Tonight– if you want–”
“No.” You interrupted suddenly. “Tonight, if my futon is ready, I shall sleep in a different room. You made it clear we would not be close. I have no intention of forcing this.”
Tomioka looked taken aback by this, as if he’d not expected you to decline him. The brief moment of emotion on his face dried up as quickly as the rain on a hot summer day.
“Right.” He nodded once, training his eyes to look ahead. “I’m glad we're on the same page then.”
The truth was, intimacy would be nice; something to bond over, something to enjoy. However, as long as Tomioka kept up this facade of reticence, it wouldn’t matter how many times they shared breath and heat and tangled among the blankets. He would always get up shortly afterwards, put on his uniform, and leave you behind. What kind of life would that be? Hanging on to every moment in hopes he might linger a little while after?
“What shall we do when my father expects children?” You asked quietly.
Tomioka hardened. “I will not bring a child into the world,” came his instant response. Not surprising, given the way he’d lectured you last night to stay away from him beyond necessity. If a man like himself were unwilling to grow attached to his own wife, then certainly, he would have no desire to sire a child.
“Don’t concern yourself with your father.” He continued. “As my wife, he no longer has authority over you,” Tomioka spoke as if the thought was distasteful. “If he complains, he will speak with me.”
Tomioka’s blue eyes shifted, gazing at you with a sudden intensity. “If he causes you trouble, if he harasses you over this, you will tell me.” The Water Hashira spoke firmly.
“But... what of Master Ubuyashiki? Wasn’t the purpose of the union to provide the corps with children-?”
“I won’t.” Tomioka bit out harshly. He instantly straightened, offering the most apologetic look a stoic man could offer. “We will not.” He stiffened suddenly, a thought occurring to him.
“Do you want children?” His question was laced with apprehension, as if fearing the worst possible answer was to come from his wife’s mouth: that she wanted children and he would inevitably have to provide them.
You hesitated. Once again coming to the realization that Tomioka was the first of anyone to ask what you wanted. Whether you wanted to be intimate, whether you wanted children, whether you wanted to work. Tomioka always asked. “I don’t know,” you admitted.
His jaw set, nodding at your words. “Then tell me when you know.”
The rest of the walk home resumed in relaxed, if not exactly comfortable, silence. You were left with mixed feelings swirling in your chest like the autumn winds that heralded winter. Tomioka was an enigma. He insisted on keeping separate, on a lack of attachment, and yet cared more for your wants than anyone else before in your life. And what of his earlier apology? He’d been willing to give intimacy just for the sake of pacifying his wife. Tomioka didn’t sequester you at the estate, didn’t even demand immediate answers to his questions.
Perhaps, for all the stoic Water Hashira’s shortcomings that Shinobu had worried about, being Tomioka Giyu’s wife was the best possible outcome.
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆
Oh. my. god. The fact that this chapter took me so long to make is almost embarrassing. Good thing graduating from college and moving to a DIFFERENT COUNTRY?? (still can't believe it) are good excuses :P
Now that im settled into a new routine, expect regular updates to both fics onces more <3
I step up before the crowd. It is my last chance to speak truth to the people before I am silenced and put away for crimes against the state.
Tapping the mic, the sound buffers over the speaker. People boo. I keep my chin up.
With the deepest breath one can muster on the edge of death, I shout:
“Choso Kamo has a big girthy cock!”
The crowd is in uproar. Boos turn to cheers. The people surge forward. I am shot by crowd control for speaking my truth. I die happy knowing it is out.
serene, private summer picnics with your blorbo that end with your breasts spilling over the neckline of your sundress and your skirt bunched up at your hips while they fuck you into your blanket 💖
Hey everyone, an update for In Matters of the Heart is coming soon! I’ve had a crazy crazy semester. Moving to a completely different country (and continent) in 39 days. Graduating college in 25 days. I’m not exactly sure if I’ll get a chapter out before then, but know that I have not abandoned this account or my love for Giyu ✨
clingy in public ❀ ; ⭐︎ slapping him (suggestive) ⭐︎ nutting the second he bottoms out ❦ squirting for the first time ❦ ; ⭐︎ accidentally moaning during sex ❦ ; ⭐︎ fratboy!naoya x reader x fratboy!satoru ❦ playtime (suggestive) jealous ❀ cuteness aggression ❀ hatefuck ❦ future brother-in-law ❦ tiring him out ❦ dry humping (suggestive)
֎ ࿐. . . headcanons
domestic life with naoya ❀ ; ❦ sneaky link!naoya ❦ nicknames saying "i love you" to him full body blush
֎ ࿐. . . thoughts & narration
bulking season ❦ naoya’s obsession with you + bonus he loves your ass 01・02 how he kisses you eating you out ❦ 01 ・02 how he’d act when drunk how he’d sound in bed ❦ how he’d act when you’re pregnant his reaction to his first child being a girl naoya having only daughters wolf in sheep’s clothing ❀ period sex ❦ playing piano with naoya embarrassing him ❦ awkward honeymoon ❦ dacryphilia (suggestive) too mouthy his reaction to you marrying another man sparring as foreplay
Tomioka Giyu was not unkind, you thought, staring after the space where your husband had once lain.
Most likely, he’d gotten up with the dawn and left before you’d even stirred.
Lady Tomioka.
That was who you were now. The Water Hashira’s lawfully wedded wife and the lady of the estate. Tatami flexed beneath the soles of your feet as you stood. Tomioka’s dark blue yukata, still draped around your shoulders, swallowed your figure as you slid open the door between his room and the one in which your things had been packed.
The estate was quiet. Quiet wasn’t something you minded. The forest Hashira estate had also been silent, save for hushed conversations with Cherry. The thought of her left sadness radiating from your chest. Who would offer quiet solace and company on cold, rainy fall days? Who would braid your hair by the light of the brazier on winter mornings?
Surely not Tomioka.
But he didn’t seem unkind. As you knelt to unpack the possessions you’d taken with you into your next life as a married woman. The last remnants of a particularly chilly night made your thighs subconsciously clench. The feel of him, slotted between your thighs, large hands all over, his hot breath fanning against your shoulder, echoed in the back of your mind. A shaky subconscious inhale was all the confirmation needed to realize his touch had been far more impactful than you’d expected.
For all the crying you’d done in anticipation of the wedding, it seemed only resignation with your current allotment in life remained, alongside a newfound curiosity over the man you now called your husband.
Assuming he had already left to do whatever it was a Hashira liked to do in his time off, you set your sights on beginning the lifelong tasks expected of you now: being a wife.
To be a wife meant to never be a hindrance to one's husband. Clean, cook, mend his clothes, stitch new ones for him, and keep the home in orderly condition. The first step was unpacking your things into the room he had designated for you. Yet it also came with an unprecedented challenge you had not yet considered: your work in the infirmary as an herbalist.
Since the days of your youth, you had aided at the butterfly mansion to help when sickness was rife through the corps, or when the sick beds filled faster than the girls of the butterfly mansion could heal. In this way, you proved useful to the corps and brought honor to the clan, something in which your father appreciated. Now though? Would Tomioka expect you to give up your own work for the sake of focusing inward on the estate?
In the meantime, while you fretted, the sun cast warm rays through the pane-glass windows, easing across the room as it climbed higher into the sky. Your dresses, yukatas, and kimonos now lined the closet in neat rows by the time it was noon. \
This work would have gone a lot faster had Cherry accompanied you to your new estate. The older woman would have commented on the warm weather and inevitably would have pestered you about the night before. She also would have good counsel regarding Tomioka and your work in the infirmary. Nevertheless, you could not wish the woman to your side again. There were things to do, and the first of those was to eat.
You made your way back down the steps, fingers dragging along the carved banister. It was drab as you had remembered from the evening before, but with the sun dazzling through the windows, the space held promise.
A quick walk about the room informed you that the braziers had already been stoked, the stove held hot embers that could quickly be fanned to life for cooking, and tea had already been served earlier this morning. Tomioka, you presumed. Though didn't a husband usually expect his wife to serve tea? Your father always had Cherry do it. Cherry had stoked the braziers in every room, set the tea to boil, and, as your wedding approached, had taken to waking you for the task as well so you would be ready when the time came to do it for Tomioka.
Would he be cross that you hadn't woken early to do it yourself?
Apprehension constricted your chest. The viper of anxiety was back, its fangs bared. Already, you've gotten off on the wrong foot as a new wife, with only half of the first day passed.
A thrashing sound made your head swivel towards the sliding door leading to the back yard and overgrown gardens. Your feet propelled you forward, pushing open the door to be greeted with none other than Tomioka.
You had assumed he'd left, yet instead, what graced your vision was the stoic man working in the garden. He'd weeded it, the overgrown bushes and weeds in a pile. Tomioka lifted his head the second the door began sliding open, met with the sight of his new bride.
Still in his yukata, the large garment hung loose on your shoulders and exposed the valley between your breasts.
The same breasts he’d mouthed last night. He swallowed, straightening up and quickly averting his eyes."You're awake."
You surveyed his work before glancing back to him. "I've been awake for several hours now."
Tomioka responded with a serious nod.
"I was clearing the garden." He stated the obvious, continuing to work. In the sunlight, a sheen of sweat glistened over his brow and the back of his neck. "I'm not here often, so I let it go to shit. But... You're here now, and women like flowers so..."
He paused, the briefest of grimaces flashing across his face as he cut himself off. Yet his intentions were easy to pick up on. He was doing this for you, intending to get the estate in proper order now that he had a wife.
"Why don't you have the gardener upkeep it?" You responded.
He halted, brows furrowing. "I don't have a gardener."
Right. Of course, Tomioka didn't possess the same lavish wealth your clan did. He wouldn't waste his money on things like servants and gardeners. You suddenly felt foolish.
Tomioka felt a twinge of shame deep in his chest, though by no means did he express it. Was this insufficient for his new bride? Was she silently wrinkling her nose in disgust at the simplicity of the Water Hashira estate?
"Do you want servants?" He asked suddenly. Feelings of inadequacy clawed at his chest. Why the master of the corps had insisted upon his signing of the marriage documents remained an utter mystery. Tomioka Giyuu was nothing more than a fraud wearing the title of the water Hashira when it should have belonged to none other than Sabito. Not only that, he had no blood worth speaking of. He wasn't bred from high-born stock like you were, and his coffers were of little consequence in comparison to those of the l/n clan. It was madness. Why had your father even agreed to it? The Rengoku clan would have been a far better choice; hell, even if it meant marrying the young bride off to the middle-aged Rengoku Shinjuro. It wasn't as if age-gap relationships were uncommon within the upper echelons of society that still arranged their marriages.
"I am okay without them." Your quiet response broke through his inner turmoil, "That is, as long as you are not overworking yourself. As a Hashira, your work is taxing. You ought to rest off-duty." Your reply came with an undertone of confusion.
Your father never did menial work such as weeding a garden. It was beneath him. In your father's eyes, it was the task of the common man and the simple folk to attend to such mundanity. He was a Hashira; his task was to kill demons and keep the simple folk safe-- for that was the transaction of society.
Tomioka, however, judging by his actions, did not subscribe to this belief. It left you perplexed.
At this, your husband abandoned his work to straighten. "I don't need rest." He replied bluntly. He turned, picking up the pile of discarded underbrush and carrying it into the woods to decompose out of sight.
Perhaps, if he would not rest, you ought to show your worth as a wife and make him something to eat, for it was midday and he surely was hungry by now-- just like yourself.
Luckily, Cherry had taken it upon herself to show you everything a proper wife ought to know before you had been wedded off. It was her words that echoed in your mind as you scavenged his kitchen and began cooking for him. Something simple would suffice, since when you pulled the wood slat flooring back to reveal the ice box, there were few ingredients to work with.
Gyudon and Miso soup, accompanied by tea. Hopefully, Tomioka would not expect something more extravagant from you. Your strengths were in the infirmary, not in keeping a house.
You set the tray on the low table, padding back out to the deck to wave his attention back on you.
"There is food, if you're hungry." You called awkwardly at his blank stare. The dark-haired man only gave a quick jerk of his head in acknowledgement and halted his work to come inside.
The way he faltered upon seeing the neatly arrayed meal made anxiety kick up again. "Is it to your liking?" You asked, watching how his hawkish blue eyes surveyed the table before settling down in front of it.
"Yes." He made no further comment, picking up his chopsticks to eat.
"Thank you," came the quiet response, just before he brought his chopsticks up to his mouth. You nodded, settling across from him at the tray you had made for yourself. His quiet reverence struck you as odd again, quite like the reverence he had last night. A sort of gratitude that spoke far beyond the simple act of eating a meal his wife created for him. Then again, if he preferred to have no servants and lived with no one else, who made his meals? Most likely himself.
. . . . . . . . . .
The rest of the day had passed with little consequence. You finally unpacked the last of your things, had the room arranged, and at last, changed into your own clothes upon noticing you'd stayed in Tomioka's dark blue yukata the entire day.
What did he make of you? Waking up late, still lounging in his clothes, which you had only recently noticed showed much of your skin.
Regardless of whatever he thought, true to his character, the enigmatic water Hashira said nothing. He had spent his day tidying the yard, splitting firewood, and, after bathing in the bath you had drawn him, now settled in his futon to read.
You hovered by the door, a tray of tea in hand for both of you.
He looked up, his lips briefly pulling in a frown. "You didn't have to do that." His blue eyes narrowed as he watched you set the tray down. You glanced at him, making eye contact.
"I'm only doing what is expected of me as a wife."
At that, he sighed long and low.
"I don't expect anything," he retorted bluntly, brow furrowing. "I don't expect baths drawn or tea made." It was not that Tomioka Giyu did not expect his wife to do nothing, for he was a traditional man to some degree; if she were to stay home and not pick up any work, he did expect her to clean and cook. However, it was more the fact that since you came from a spoiled, soft upbringing, he had entered this marriage harboring low expectations.
For some reason, the furrow of his brow and the slight scowl that graced his lips offended you. What did he want, if he was displeased with this?
"What do you want then?" Instead of staying quiet, you voiced your concerns aloud. Cherry might have admonished you for speaking so bluntly with your husband, and yet, your nursemaid wasn't here to keep you reigned in.
"Nothing." He replied coolly, blue eyes scrutinizing your sharp tone. Tomioka hadn't meant that to come out so rudely, but he was a rough man who lived by his blade after all; socialization was not his strong suit.
You sat back, perplexity written over your features. An answer like that was impossible to work with. Certainly, he had some kind of idea of how this marriage should play out.
“Do you wish for me to sleep here tonight?” You asked. A chill clung to the edges of the estate, creeping along the floorboards and holding fast to the window panes as evening settled. Soon it would be the hours of night. The time in which the common folk crawled beneath their blankets and shared heat for the night. For them, while Tomioka was insistently given time off to adjust to married life, they ought to be doing the same.
Tomioka grunted, “There are no other futons to spare in the house.”
Not a straightforward answer, and neither did it convey any semblance of approval of your staying, merely an obligation.
“Do you wish to have sex tonight?” Came your next question. At that, he stiffened, eyes widening fractionally, as if he had not allowed his mind to dwell on such a thing since last night.
“Do you?” He echoed back at you, a hint of surprise in his voice.
You hadn’t considered he would respond in such a way, and frankly, you hadn’t assessed whether or not you yourself wanted to or not. Cherry had instilled that it was he who mattered, his desires and his wants. Yours were secondary.
Yet… last night his touch hadn’t been unwelcome. His hands, though calloused, had been soft; his lips had kissed you in places you’d never thought a man would kiss. Just the thought of it had heat curling low in your belly, and against your better judgment, you gave him an honest answer.
“Yes. I would.”
His breath caught, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his cerulean eyes before the man looked away. Behind the soft locks of raven hair, it seemed his face was warming ever so slightly.
"You should not. Didn't I tell you, I'm not a man to be loved."
His lips set in a scowl. Tomioka shut the book in his lap, setting it to the side of the futon. Instead of taking the wiser choice, which would have been to nod and leave the man be, you inched closer-- tea forgotten.
The mattress dipped where you slid up against him, pulling the blankets over your shoulder to join him beneath them.
“As a husband, it’s your duty to keep your wife satiated.” You murmured. Was it love? Perhaps not, but that didn’t stop heat from building up in your lower abdomen. He’d awoken something last night, and while the consummation had been brief– and you had not even climaxed– it left a carnal desire for more.
He sucked in a breath, blue eyes widening as his bride pressed flush against him. A needy little thing, he had not expected this at all when signing the marriage papers. The Water Hashira assumed he would be uninteresting to a noble woman like you; his bedroom skills were abysmal, his social skills even worse. Yet here his young bride was, hands pulling her own yukata open.
Pretty tits spilling out from your robes made his Adam’s apple bob nervously. He’d mouthed those last night, inhaled the sweet scent of your skin, and as much as he had promised himself he would not touch the beautiful woman he called his wife again, his instinct rose above even that of his guilty conscience.
Tomioka Giyu, however, was a man of immense self-control. He was the water Hashira above all; discipline and duty were his gospel. There was no room for the softer, finer things in life. His was an existence wrought with hardship and sacrifice, and that meant that a woman such as yourself, soft and pretty and all the nice things that Tomioka knew himself to be undeserving of, would only distract him.
“Get off of me.”
Now that was unexpected. He spoke clearly, quietly, with an edge to his voice that startled you like a doe in the forest.
“What?” His response left you dumbfounded.
“I said get off.”
This time, your stoic husband snapped, sitting up and whirling around to face you. Cerulean eyes turned icy, brows furrowed, mussed raven hair giving him a wild sort of look. He wrenched your hand away by the wrist, fury written in his blue eyes in a way you’d never witnessed in your short time of knowing him up until this point.
“Are you stupid? I told you to get off.”
You shirked back, more at his insult and the icy tone of voice that had your hair standing on end. Though Tomioka would never dream of yelling at his bride, his desperation to hold fast to his stoicism had caused him to snap. He sighed, long and low, and far sadder than a man of his years should.
“I’m not worthy of a wife. Not worthy of being the water Hashira.” Perhaps, if he laid it out simply, he could convince her to stay away without actually hurting the woman. He’d explain, and she’d quickly conclude he was not a man worth pursuing; thus, their distant, duty-bound marriage would proceed.
“Not a single person I’ve loved have I been able to save from demons.” He admitted, with a raw tone to his voice. “It would do you well to stay away from me as much as possible. I’ll have a new futon arranged for your room.”
Words escaped you. This was not a situation you had been prepared for, and strangely enough, indignation reared its head. His words had not caused words of sympathy or understanding to rise upon your tongue; instead, what welled in your heart was… anger.
“So you will cloister me here? Confined to the Water Hashira Estate with not a single soul to interact with, including yourself?” You retorted, defiance burning clear behind your sharpened gaze. “If you were planning to keep away from me all this time, why would you have even signed those marriage papers in the first place? Why bed me last night? You spilled yourself inside me. Did you plan to ignore any children as well?” By this point, you’d sat up, looming over him.
Tomioka pushed forward, getting eye level with you, a hint of frost returning to his blue eyes. “At what point did I say I would cloister you here?” He retaliated, “Have I locked any of the doors? You’re free to come and go as you please.”
He looked away, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he reigned himself in. “What is it that you want from me? I won’t abandon you. I’m not so much of a fool as to not see how resisting this marriage would only spell more hardship for both of us. Yet that does not mean our lives must change. You live yours, I will live mine.”
You didn’t have a response to that, only stunned silence. So he would not prevent you from your usual work. You were free to go, free to work in the infirmary as always. Perhaps you had spent too much of your energy worrying over the books of marital affairs and Cherry’s words, then the man in front of you.
And yet, was there anything truly to be upset about? He wouldn’t touch you, a fact that burned at the back of your mind, but it was a fate far easier to deal with than being cloistered within the Water Hashira Estate for the rest of your days as you first expected to happen.
“Fine.” You forced out after the silence dragged on to an uncomfortable degree. “Please arrange for a futon for my own room.”
He nodded, face back to its usual impassivity. “Sleep here. I’ll be off for patrol soon enough.”
The blankets rustled as he stood, shedding his yukata to replace it with his uniform.
“You were given leave.” The words came timidly off your lips. Why would he push himself to work when leave was a seldom enough gift as it was? Even if the marriage were a farce, you couldn’t help the twinge of worry for his sake. You’d never met a man so unwilling to just rest.
He didn’t answer, keeping his back turned as he dressed. The broad muscles of his back were on full display as he did so. The water Hashira knew you were looking. He didn’t deign to comment.
“I will work tomorrow in the infirmary.” You tested. A man like your father would protest, demand that his wife be waiting with a meal prepared and the house in order. He glanced back, buttoning the polished brass buttons of his uniform.
“Then I will see you in the evening tomorrow.”
Without lingering a second longer, the Water Hashira finished dressing, buckling his belt, shrugging on his two-toned haori, and grabbing the blade he kept by the door.
You did not say goodbye. A good wife would have tugged him back for a kiss, perhaps wished him safety. A good husband would not leave his wife on the first day of their marriage. So you let him leave with silence hanging over the room, lying back within the blankets while his footsteps receded down the stairs and out the front door.
The raven-haired man stayed at the forefront of your thoughts, even as sleep pulled you from consciousness. What man pulled away, spoke cryptically of his shortcomings and those who had died long before she’d entered the estate?. What man did not take what his wife offered? What man entered a rigid, arranged marriage only to seemingly have no qualms over his wife’s freedom?
Tomioka Giyu was an enigma wrapped in the odd-patterned haori he wore. Not heartless, as evident by the way he had begun cleaning his estate gardens for a wife, and yet, wholly unwilling to do anything not required of him by duty.
None of it made sense, his actions clashed against his words, and yet, when the sun dazzled through the pane glass windows on the second day of your marriage, a determination had settled within your mind. Everything you had ever been taught as a woman had pointed to men being easy. Easy to please, easy to pacify– so long as you followed the prescribed behavior of a wife. Yet nothing about the Water Hashira had been easy, you had done everything by the book and he still didn’t budge.
Perhaps it was born of petulance over his earlier rejection, perhaps over an incessant burn of curiosity that plagued your mind, regardless, a goal had formulated in your consciousness. You’d have Tomioka Giyu around your finger by the end of the year.
⋆.ೃ𐦍:･⋆𐦍.ೃ࿔:･
AN- So happy I got this out on his birthday! Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated <3
