Synopsis | A touch-starved Giyuu lets more than just his shoulders down as you massage your way straight to his aching heart.
Content | giyuu x g/n!reader, no sex, but still a lil' spicy, fluff
"If you're going to insist on sparring me, don't be so half-assed about it you idiot!" Sanemi's voice rang out over the training grounds between the smack of wooden blades.
"I'm not," Giyuu grunted as he blocked another near-miss. You were perched under the shade of a nearby pine, waiting your turn to spar with the victor who, by the looks of it, would not be Giyuu.
The wind and water hashira clashed with impressive speed and force, but it was evident even from your vantage point, Giyuu was holding back.
"Fight me you bastard!" Sanemi growled.
"I am!" Giyuu retorted, sweat forming on his brow. He dodged another glancing blow.
"Then put your back into it, dammit!"
At those words, Giyuu flinched, losing his footing and taking a direct hit to the ribs. The match was over. You stepped up to take his place, facing the wind hashira as Giyuu slinked away- a slight limp to his gait.
"What's his deal?" Sanemi snarled.
"No idea," you lied, watching him leave. But you had a hunch.
Over the next few days Giyuu wasn't at breakfast. He was late for your briefings with Master Ubuyashiki. You spotted him nodding off in unlikely places. And, once, you even saw him sneaking away from Butterfly Mansion.
Rumors began to spread in regards to his odd behavior.
"He thinks he's better than all of us," Obanai spat one night at the dinner table. Sanemi nodded in agreement.
"Perhaps he's been cursed," Gyomei offered.
"Wouldn't we know if he'd been cursed?" Muichiro mused.
"Sometimes one's burdens become one's curse," Gyomei said wisely, tears in his eyes.
"I saw Mister Tomioka stretching in all sorts of weird ways the other day!" Mitsuri chimed. "Maybe he started a secret yoga club!"
Shinobu quirked an amused brow. You could tell she was eating this up.
"Well I saw a certain water hashira sneaking away from Butterfly Mansion early one morning," touted Tengen. "Know anything about that?" He raised a brow at Shinobu. Suddenly she was not so amused.
"Must be imagining things," she sniffed haughtily.
“Whatever it is, I'm sure he has his reasons,” Rengoku finished kindly.
And so, the following morning you set out to Giyuu's estate to see exactly what those “reasons” were for yourself.
“Giyuu?” You called to him through the sliding shoji paper. Shuffling footsteps dragged over the wooden floor, coming to a halt as the door slid open. He looked terrible. Eyes heavy with dark circles beneath them. Hair unkempt and half undone. You could tell he hadn't slept.
“Just checking in,” you said with a smile he didn't return. He turned to close the door, but you shot out a hand to stop him. “We're worried about you, Giyuu,” you said earnestly. He tried to force it shut. “I'm worried about you…”
Heavy blue eyes met yours. His gaze lingered there for a moment. “I'm fine,” he said finally, pulling his haori tight around him and turning on one foot to retreat into his house, leaving the door as it was. When he turned, something fell to the floor with a metallic clatter as it slid from his pocket. You snatched it up before he could grab it.
A small tin with a Butterfly Mansion label rested in your palm. A strong herbal smell tickled your nose as you looked it over.
To be used once per day. Apply to sore areas for moderate to severe muscular pain as needed. Rub thoroughly.
“I knew it!” You blurted out, your suspicions finally confirmed. “Your back is killing you, isn't it?” Giyuu shuffled awkwardly, but didn't answer. Turning the tin in your hand, you noticed it was still sealed. “Then why aren't you using this?” You prodded.
“I-” he stared at his feet, a rush of scarlet flooding his cheeks. “I can't reach…”
You stared at him- a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You what?”
“I can't reach, okay? Satisfied?” He turned away, leaving you with his tin of would-be comfort.
“You know there's a simple solution here,” you teased, tossing the tin in the air and catching it again. Giyuu froze with his back to you, ears burning red beneath his messy hair. “Let me put this on for you.”
“Not necessary,” he muttered.
“No. You're right,” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “And the next time you fight a demon, I'm sure he'll go easy on you if you tell him your back hurts.”
Giyuu didn't move- didn't speak. A war was waging inside his head. The thought of you touching him was more than he could handle. But the way things were going, he was one wrong flinch away from becoming demon fodder.
His pulse quickened despite staying perfectly still. Blood rushing to his ears, face, and…other places. Actually, he thought, I'll take the demon. He turned to tell you to leave, but you were already inside, standing right behind him, sniffing curiously at the open tin in your hand.
Giyuu's shoulders rose and fell as he heaved a sigh. “You're not going to let this go, are you?” He asked with a note of resignation. You shook your head with an innocent grin.
Giyuu was tense- guarded. He clenched his jaw against his thickening pulse, shoulders creeping toward his ears as he held his breath. It was as though he believed if he didn't move, didn't breathe, you might forget he was there entirely. Your teasing smile faded.
“Giyuu…” your voice fell soft like cherry blossoms, yet still he flinched as if you'd struck him. You continued gentler still, “you're the strongest person I know. Always putting on a brave face. Never asking for help. But sharing your struggles doesn't make you weak. It makes you…human.”
His breath came in tiny gulps, bearing the look of a man with no walls left to hide behind. Silence surrounded you both, except for the small sound of his fingers playing nervously with the hem of his haori sleeves. He stared at your feet, chewing his cheek as a single word turned again and again in his mind.
“You think I'm…strong?” He said, barely above a whisper.
“Incredibly so,” you asserted, unwavering.
His shoulders came down as he allowed himself to exhale- a quiet tremor in his breathing. He felt exposed. Observed. His tokenistic nonchalance cracking like clay in the sunshine. Your eyes traced the knot in his throat as he swallowed. Looking everywhere but your face, he conceded.
“...The futon.” he murmured.
“If…if we're going to do this,” he pressed on in spite of himself, “I should probably…lay down.”
Your footsteps echoed as you followed him to his small nest of folded blankets in the corner. Between the rigid way he moved and the quiet, empty room, so unmistakably…Giyuu, you had to fight to keep a small smile tucked away.
You watched with a mix of amusement and pity as he lowered himself to the futon, arms stiff by his sides. Every bit the look of a man preparing for his execution- not a massage. You stared at his back.
You waited for him to notice.
“I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure this stuff doesn't work on fabric,” you waved the open tin near his face.
Giyuu froze, instantly going more rigid than he already was. He'd somehow forgotten that he'd need to be shirtless for this whole thing to work. Shirtless. In front of you. Your hands on his bare skin. Was it too late to turn back? What on earth was he thinking? Before he could formulate his escape you were already slipping him out of his haori.
“Here, let me help,” you said gently, sliding the fabric over his shoulders. He sat up slightly, robotic obedience overriding his desire to run. Heat crept up his neck all the way to his scalp as you hovered your hands over the front of his shirt. “May I…?”
Giyuu nodded, cheeks impossibly red, eyes fixed on the wall before him. He sat stark still and screaming internally, painfully aware of each button you unfastened. The cool morning air had no effect as you peeled back his final layer. He was a blazing inferno. Without even touching him you could feel the heat pouring off him in waves.
As he laid back down, still agonizingly stiff, you dipped your fingers in the fragrant salve, working it between your palms. It was surprisingly warm and tingled like electricity against your skin. Who knew what Shinobu had cooked up. You only hoped it would bring some relief to the world-weary man before you.
Meanwhile Giyuu was having his own internal thoughts.
Hands, hands, hands, hands.
The word looped uselessly on repeat. Your hands would soon be touching him- working him. He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought, bracing for pain rather than pleasure. But when your touch finally came it was with comfort, not cruelty. Still, he flinched, body betraying him.
“S-sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed.
You pulled your hands back. “I don't have to-”
“It's fine!” He said quickly, almost a tad too eager. Don't touch me, his body jerked away. Please, please touch me, his mind begged weakly.
He was anything but fine.
Your hands hovered before beginning again, dancing over the warmth of his skin before deciding where to land. Both palms pressed firmly, yet gentle on his upper back, the salve sliding languidly between you. Giyuu hitched violently, seizing under your steady touch.
“Shh…I've got you,” you assured him.
Got me? He thought his heart might stop.
You moved to work in steady strokes, gliding your thumbs along his spine, but he flinched again, pulling away in spite of himself.
“If it's too much I can-”
“Keep going,” he said through gritted teeth against the futon.
You tried again, more gently this time, but even at the slightest touch Giyuu lurched away from you, not from pain, but from sheer humiliation. It was too much. You were too close. His body was conditioned for combat, not comfort. Tension hung in the air between you as your hands hovered again, uncertain, salve tingling away between your fingers.
“Hey,” you said finally. “Talk to me. What's up?”
“Just a little tense I suppo-”
“Not here,” you cut him off, poking him softly between his shoulder blades. “Here” you said, giving his head a playful chop with the side of your hand. He blinked, startled.
There was another moment of silence while he formulated his answer, thinking seriously about your question, while keeping his eyes on the mattress below. He shifted uncomfortably, willing the words to form themselves. They came slowly at first, hesitantly, and then all at once.
“It's just…I'm …supposed to be…” his fingers dug absently into the futon as he breathed each word to life, syllable by syllable.
“The Water Hashira,” he said finally. “Flexible. Adaptable. Steady.” They were coming faster now, flowing even. “But that's not who I am. Not even close. When the others all look at me, they see something I'm not. Something- someone I could never hope to be. I haven't earned the title,” He was practically panting as the truth poured out of him. “And I don't deserve your pity.”
You let his thoughts settle like falling snow. Watched his shoulders shift under the weight of his own impossible expectations. Only after playing with the salve between your palms for several grueling moments did you finally speak.
“I don't see you as the Water Hashira,” you said bluntly.
Giyuu coiled. Your brutal honesty far more jarring than your touch.
“No,” you said simply, looking away from him.
Another moment passed in painful silence. His skin crawled with discomfort.
“I see you as Giyuu.” His name fell like a pebble between you, ripples reaching him in gentle waves. “Just Giyuu.” You tapped his head again. Softer this time. Affectionately.
Relief hit him like a torrent. Just the sound of his name, so simple on your lips, was enough to rock him like the restless sea. It wasn't guilt or inadequacy he was feeling now, but something new. Something unbroken. As though here, next to you, he was finally- enough.
“Do you trust me?” You whispered.
The futon sank and shifted as you threw a leg up over him, straddling his lower half between your legs, thighs resting on his sides. His breath caught sharply in his chest with the sudden escalation.
“I can't have you squirming everywhere like you were,” you chided softly, leaning in with the heels of your hands to work his aching muscles.
“Ah! I-” he couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
“No.” He gasped. “Keep going.” His voice came as a low rumble you felt between your legs. It was hot. He was hot- body heat radiating from his lower back.
Get it together. Don't think. He pleaded with himself, desperate to hide the pleasure welling up inside of him. He forced his hips into the futon, urging his body not to react.
Shivers rolled through him as your thumb found a particularly tense knot in his lower back. There it is, you thought to yourself, shifting lower for better leverage. He groaned, desperate and visceral, the sound vibrating through you. You eased up a bit.
“H-harder!” He growled, surrendering completely to your touch. His toes curled into the blankets as blood pounded in his ears. He was sporting a raging hard-on now, thankful it was hidden firmly between him and the roll-out bed.
He wanted to apologize. To beg for more. He prayed for it to stop and to never stop coming all in the same cursed breath. Sinful moans and whispered indulgences escaped him, shamefully, as he bucked against the weight of you pinning him to the bedroll.
Your heart leapt in your chest at the way he came undone between your legs. You were drinking him in, the smell of the salve and his own feral musk making you dizzy with longing. You took him in in great handfuls, savoring the way he melted like putty in your fingers. He was wholly and devoutly yours.
Shallow motions gave way to long, steady sweeps over his rolling muscles. His shoulders dropped, his hands unclenched, even his yearning groans mellowed into muted sighs and eventually, deep rhythmic exhales.
Time passed in quiet longing as you watched his ribs rise and fall with every breath. Giyuu lay, half asleep, beholden to your sweet affection. As the minutes drifted, or maybe more, you felt his body sink into the futon- your queue to leave. Pulling his haori over him, you turned to make your exit, when a gentle hand reached out to grab the hem of your uniform.
Giyuu's voice was tentative, cautious, like he couldn't bear to be rejected, but couldn't live without the answer. “Could-” his voice caught in his throat. “Could you come back tomorrow?” For the first time all morning, he met your gaze directly.
With a tender smile, you pulled the small tin from your pocket so he could see. “I was already planning on it.”
He watched you leave. A quiet reassurance settling in your wake. The tingling of the salve still fresh upon his skin. And for the first time in a long time he felt happy to be just Giyuu.
