— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄
summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.
Your bones are tired.
Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on.
The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable.
Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission.
Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.
All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.
Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you.
It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.
When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.
Son of a —
There's Hashira abound tonight.
"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"
Did Tengen need to be so loud?
All the damn time?
The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain.
You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.
"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."
Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.
Then: the middle finger.
"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep.
"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up."
You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much.
"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."
Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.
That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open.
You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:
"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being.
Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—
"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"
You've got to be kidding me.
Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.
(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)
Finally, you speak.
"I'm fine."
You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow.
Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.
It's... pathetic.
"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.
Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—
Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku.
"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"
"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.
Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"
You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him.
After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush.
And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other.
Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.
Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen.
At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate.
You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.
You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo.
It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem.
...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness.
But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—
Having a heart attack.
He's having a heart attack.
I mean — it's you. And him. Alone.
...Naked. And alone.
He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon.
Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.
"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."
"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y.
Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.
He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more.
Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned.
Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night.
You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around.
"Better?"
All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.
That makes him laugh.
You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.
"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."
Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.
"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."
He's teasing you.
He's — he's seriously teasing you.
You're naked and he's teasing you.
You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way.
You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.
Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.
Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop.
You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.
"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."
"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.
"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."
Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones.
His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.
"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.
You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway.
You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.
The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."
You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."
He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest.
"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."
Ah.
Right.
Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself.
There's a history there, it seems.
"I apologize."
"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.
"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."
Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."
"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."
"And if I asked Tengen?"
"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice.
It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp.
Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled.
Second to tonight, that is.
The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"
Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—
Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.
"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."
"You really are in rare form this evening."
He's smirking. That's new.
"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."
"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.
"You haven't the slightest idea."
"Care to enlighten me?"
"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."
He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth.
"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."
Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm.
That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months.
"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit."
Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.
Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others.
Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.
He's still watching you.
Your eyes find his.
There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.
Then, he speaks.
Blurts, more aptly.
"You are beautiful."
...Did he just say that?
Your lips part in quiet shock.
Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure.
His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.
Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—
"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.
"Oh—"
"Yes, yes, I—"
"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.
"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."
Your laugh is like a balm.
"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"
"That I'm a fool? Of course."
You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing.
Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady."
Maybe you could drown yourself here.
You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.
You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—
Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu.
The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.
"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"
"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.
"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"
Kyojuro levels you with a look.
You offer a sheepish grin.
"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."
Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."
You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."
Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira.
He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare.
"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."
You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.
For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.
For now.
Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness.
When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.
"...What was all that?"
Nevermind. The crankiness is back.
"Shut up."
