Or, maybe, it was just that no one had the energy to move or speak enough to drown out the persistent bugs.
Sprawled along the floor, Ogata couldn’t even be bothered to take off any layers. Choosing instead to play dead at Hijikata’s feet, sweating in his uniform and cloak.
His breathing was slow, unnaturally so, as if his lungs were just as lazy as the rest of him. After listening to the turn of the newspaper page a few times, Ogata felt ready to take a nap until someone bothered him enough to make him move.
“You are wrinkling your uniform.”
“My uniform is in a trash heap by the Russian border.” Ogata replied with a scoff as he rolled onto his other side.
“Hm. Is that so.” Hijikata adjusted his grip on his newspaper after looking away from the soldier at his feet. There was a slight grin on his face as he went back to reading. “I couldn’t tell the difference.”
Ogata stayed still for a while longer, but his eye was open now, staring blankly at the bands on his sleeves. It got to him eventually and he sluggishly pushed himself up to sitting, directing that blank stare at Hijikata. Even if his face was currently behind the newspaper.
When the newspaper was lowered slightly to turn the page, Hijikata caught a glimpse of Ogata staring at him. He looked back at him with a rather amused expression before folding the paper and placing it back on his small table. Hijikata beckoned Ogata closer with a small hand wave.
Ignoring it at first, Ogata turned his head away. However, when he didn’t hear Hijikata pick the newspaper up again, he glanced back. The old man had that gentle, stoic expression he always did when the house was quiet. It was distinct from the determined and steadfast expression he had before a fight, this one missing that heat and quiet ferocity. This relaxed look was inviting enough that Ogata walked over on his knees and sat back on his heels once he was beside Hijikata’s lounge chair.
With a quiet chuckle, Hijikata reached out to the side towards Ogata, the back of his fingers touching the other man's sweaty forehead. Surprisingly, the soldier didn’t pull away or make a fuss and from his perspective, Ogata looked ready to collapse into a puddle from the heat. Seeing how placid Ogata was being for him, Hijikata kept his hand on him.
Well manicured nails scratched through Ogata's beard in a playful gesture, before the weathered palm smoothed over Ogata’s jaw down towards the collar of his shirt.
“You still remember how to fold your uniform, yes?” He didn’t need to elaborate, Hijikata could see in the way Ogata flinched slightly that the younger man already understood what he was asking for.
After taking a long second to consider what was being requested of him, Ogata removed his cloak, letting it pool on the floor before collecting it and rolling it up neatly. He looked back towards Hijikata, finding an expectant look on the man's face. Ogata waited for a response, but didn’t get anything.
The hand against his neck was so cool compared to his flushed skin and it made goosebumps shoot down his back when it shifted slightly. Ogata hadn’t realized just how much he’d been cooking in his uniform until now.
Now being aware of the heat under his skin, Ogata took off his belt then began unbuttoning his uniform jacket and shrugged it off. He folded it as he had been trained to and set it aside on the floor next to his other things. Without realizing it, Ogata was now resting his hands on his thighs, even if his posture was lazy and slouched.
Hijikata had kept his fingers down the back of Ogata’s shirt collar, thumb resting against the side of his neck. What a nice little display. Hijikata watched Ogata’s eye unfocus bit by bit the longer the older man kept his hand where it was.
“You’re overheating.” Hijikata spoke again after a moment, moving one finger away from Ogata’s neck under the collar of Ogata’s shirt so the fabric was pulled tight at the front.
“Mn.” Ogata’s eye closed for a moment, before sluggishly blinking back open. “ ‘s fine.”
Hijikata shook his head, sweat gathering between his palm and Ogata’s pulse point. “Wasn’t a question.”
Ogata looked up at him and then started to unbutton his dress shirt down to the end of the half-placket. Then Ogata methodically rolled up his sleeves, finally exposing his fevered skin to the cool breeze keeping everyone else cool. So far after each step, he had turned to Hijikata to see if it had been enough, but now Ogata felt a little too dizzy so he was simply gazing blankly ahead.
Seemingly content with what Ogata had done, Hijikata moved his hand back to the front of Ogata’s neck. His thumb gently tracing the man’s adam's apple before grabbing Ogata’s chin and coaxing him to sit up straight. Hijikata was in no rush, he knew even without a word, the other would understand him eventually. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing.
Without having to think about it, Ogata sat up, shoulders squaring as he subtly adjusted how his feet were so he was obediently sitting at attention. His back was as straight as a board, hands resting flat on his thighs.
Hijikata nodded, his hand finally leaving Ogata’s hot, fevered skin and wiped his sweaty palm off on his pant leg. “There you go.”
Sitting at attention like this, mind already foggy from the heat, Ogata’s eye glazed over and became even more distant. Wherever he was mentally, it was far far away from this room. Muscle memory was the only thing keeping him upright, his jaw clenched a little too tight to be comfortable.
“Even well trained dogs can forget their manners after being far away from home.” Hijikata left Ogata next to him like that, returning to his paper. “Good to see yours have been baked in, right down to the bone.”
It certainly wasn’t praise he was being given, but it didn’t matter since Ogata had stopped listening to the words and could only focus on the tone. “…mn.” Ogata replied, the sound of the cicadas ringing in his empty head.
Ogata sat like that for who knows how long. His thoughts eventually returned to him in a cooler, darker room with a half empty glass of water in his hands. He didn’t remember when he had been dismissed or who had moved him to sit in here. When he tried to get up, his legs were like jello and Ogata spilled the rest of the water all over himself. Luckily no one was around to see him, so Ogata just huffed and ran a hand over his hair.
