#saigonotsuru

Her question is an innocent one, perhaps understandable. Her memories didn’t exist after all, or at best were hazy from that time — before everything. When she wasn’t among those who had died, at least not among those they could recognise in the charred remains of their village, he’d held out hope. 

“As if I would forget.” He mutters quietly, “not your name nor your face.” Years had put a space between them, missing memories causing a rift — a void —  that may never truly fill, but he alone had never forgotten the time they’d spent together as children. “However it wasn’t until I heard your name, spoken among the Shinsengumi, that I could piece together that it was truly you — even then I had to see it with my own two eyes. You’d changed, if only a little, and didn’t even know you were a demon. And, nor did you remember me.” 

He’s come to love anytime she takes charge in the kitchen. Sure, a meal’s a meal and certainly filling when you’re running and growing, but there’s something... really special about Chizuru’s cooking, although maybe that’s just him getting ahead of himself.

“You may as well have, Chizuru!” His enthusiasm matches well with his grin. She’s been such a big help, and man, oh, man is it always good. “There’s nothing more energizing than a good meal!”

“... Why are you still alive?”

The specter stood in front of Chizuru with dull eyes. There was no love in them. No hatred in them. Just a sad resignation from a past full of losses and disappointments. The difference between her and the girl in front of her... she wanted to know.

Her cries beside him stir him awake. He moves quickly to lean over her (mildly startled, though he will never admit so out loud), and she wakes with the movement. Her wide eyes stare up at him, words stuck in her throat as she forgets she’s supposed to breathe.

“I’m here.” he states firmly, “I’m here,” he repeats, softer as he places his hand gently against the side of her face. He uses his fingers to brush aside sweaty bangs, and keeps his eyes locked on hers from above. The relief washes over her (he can see it in the way her shocked expression quickly turns to tears). He manages a small smile and a sigh. “That dream again?”

She nods. It’s small and feeble, and it makes him almost feel bad for dragging her back into this world. But even so, it’s where she belongs. Even if the past is only recollected in fragmented memories - dreams and nightmares alike. “It’s okay.” he assures. “It may have happened in the past, but it won’t happen again.” He won’t let it. No village of demons under his watch will ever have to go through that trauma again. 

“Chizuru.” he leans down and places a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she takes the opportunity where the gap between them has shortened to wrap her arms around him tightly. “Clingy.” he mutters, shifting so his head is beside hers (he receives a mumbled ‘shut up’ of some sort) and chuckling. With Chizuru still firmly attached, he does his best to move into a position where he is laying beside her - where in return he can hold her just as close. 

“Chizuru.” He calls for her attention, waiting for her to look up at him before he chuckles. “Some things really never do change.” he unfolds one of his arms from across his body and rests his hand upon her cheek. It always feels large compared to her; but maybe she’s just small. 

His thumb wipes the tears from her cheek before they can dry there, and he leans down to kiss her other cheek.

When he pulls away, he licks his lips. 

He unfolds his other arm, and it replaces where his mouth pressed lightly to the tears. “You’re irresistible.” he mutters, and Chizuru’s face goes through a phase of shock to puffing out her cheeks 

“I’m upset.”

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to say things like that. It’s not suppoed to be cute!”

“I didn’t say it was cute.”

“...”

Now it was a glare? He can’t help the grin crawling across his face as his hands resting on her cheeks use thumbs and fingers to grasp at them and tug. “Are you being dishonest with me?” he asks, “you want me to say it’s cute, really, don’t you?”

“I do not.”

Splash. 

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” he asks the rhetorical question lowly, smirk already formed on his face. “I’ve seen much more already, you know?”

“That’s not the point! You can’t just walk in here and–”

“It’s my home.”

“Our.”

“Point taken. It’s our home, and I can go where I please within it.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Her comment was far more feeble though - a resignation that this stubborn man-child of a demon wasn’t going to budge, and it’s not as though she could just get up out of the tub to shove him out of the room, either. 

“Let me join you.” he says, already shrugging off his haori. “I’m wet anyway, thanks to you.” Chizuru shoots him a glare, to which he only laughs at. “What?” he asks, “do you not trust me?”

“You know that’s not it.” 

He laughs, “yeah, yeah,” a hand waving in mild dismissal. “At least let me wash your hair. It’s always pleasantly soft to touch. Like a cat.” To that, she sighs, and lets out a resigned, drawn out, ‘fine’. Chikage’s victory. The best he can get for now; he wouldn’t go against her wishes after all, no matter what he wanted. Of course that won’t make him stop making what he wants quite clear, but he’ll never take or do what he wants without her approval. 

The only reason he persists in removing at least the top half of his clothing, is the fact it will be a hindrance as he tries to wash her hair - but as he is wearing a kimono, he has to compromise with taking his arms out of the sleeves and simply letting it hang at the waist over the tie. It would be indecent otherwise. Of course that also means he has to be careful with how he positions himself - getting the sleeves in the water would completely defeat the object of taking them off. 

He perches himself on the edge, careful to ensure the sleeve of his right side facing the water is caught on his lap and between his legs. “Come here,” he states, reaching for Chizuru (who upon request does in fact scoot backward) so that he can run his fingers through her hair. Wet, it isn’t quite so soft to touch, but it doesn’t bother him - since regardless of his comments this is just something he wants to do. 

“What were you going to use?” 

She reaches and hands him a small bottle. 

“I bought it today. When we were out.”

“Oh?” She was sneaky with that one then. He looks down, and reads the fragrance of the vial. Forget me not. To many it probably seems trivial, or maybe strange, but with what the pair of them have been through it’s more the words than the scent itself that has meaning. He wastes no time in making use of it, either. 

He massages the suds into her hair, feels her steadily relaxing more into his touch - until he chuckles, and she’s immediately on edge again. “What?” he asks.

“You’re up to something.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Is that so?” he questions with a false air of innocence, “close your eyes.” he commands, and in that instant she’s shooting him that look of ‘this is exactly what I’m talking about’. “Do you want the soap in your eyes?” And she shakes her head and relents just as quickly. He doesn’t doubt her suspicions still linger - he’s a mischievous devil and he knows it, and it’s why he’s always getting into trouble with her. 

With her eyes firmly closed, Chikage makes the effort to wash her hair out with the water - continuing to run his hands through the strands. But, of course, he can’t resist the temptation, and while she is leaning back takes the opportunity to lean over and while upside down press his lips to hers. He laughs quite blatantly when he knows she’s realised, and pulls away enough to look down at her pouting at him. 

“I knew it.”

When he hears her voice, he turns to meet her gaze. She is dressed up nicely for meeting him, and it pleases him to see. He expects that is why she took so long, disregarding the fact he was ludicrously early (he had little else to do to pass the time beforehand). He smiles, to show his appreciation and contentment, and then replies. 

“An eternity.” He jests, of course. “But it was worth the wait.” And that is no glorified lie; she has been worth waiting for all this time, now, and in the years that have passed. He unfolds his arms and extends a hand so that she may take it. In truth, he has little in mind in regards to plans for the day - none can predict what a day will bring on its own, and it was mere coincidence and turn of circumstance that allowed them to meet in the past. Leaving things to chance isn’t always the worst of ideas.