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So, all their attempts to make that stupid bastard smile are kaput.
Who knew what Oyakata-sama was thinking when he asked the hashiras to make Tomioka Giyuu smile, or what he was expecting out of it. As far as Sanemi knew though, it was doomed from the start.
He’s known the guy for just a couple of years, and he’s never seen the guy look anything other than a dead fish. Not once during their rare hashira meetings, nor during the few missions where they had to work together and Sanemi had to keep himself from beating the guy senseless just to see if Giyuu can look like something else.
(Not that Sanemi’s been staring at that guy’s stupid pretty mouth or anything. Because he totally wasn’t. He’d rather not look at prissy, perfect Giyuu and his better-than-you attitude if he can help it.)
Giyuu leaves that meeting as stoic and stone-faced as he’s ever been, if not looking a little more shaken than usual for being subjected to… whatever the hell that was. Sanemi almost can’t blame him for looking so confused, but how clueless can you be for not getting that they were doing all that stupid shit for him?! And while he wouldn’t put it past Kanroji or Rengoku to do that stupid shit without anyone telling them to, Shinazugawa Sanemi would never ask that guy out for a meal if no-one other than Oyakata-sama told him to do so!
But now that he thinks about it, Oyakata-sama didn’t really tell Sanemi to do fuck-all, it was Shinobu. Ask him out for salmon daikon, she said. It’ll make the bastard smile like no tomorrow, she said. It’s ridiculous that a trivial thing such as salmon would make such an emotionless bastard smile, but even if it was then why was Shinobu so insistent that Sanemi has to do it? If it was just salmon then she should have been the one to ask him out!
“Once is enough in this lifetime,” she answers vaguely, with an attempt at hiding her disgust.
Shinobu simply smiles darkly when Sanemi gives her a questioning look.
“Anyway, I thought my idea would work best with you, Shinazugawa-san. I apologize. I did not expect Tomioka-san to be so dense.”
Dense is a very kind way to put it. “That fucker, who does he think he is?! I’m gonna shove a live salmon down his throat next time I see him, see if he likes it--”
If he thinks that he’s too good to eat with Sanemi--if he thinks that he can just reject him after all his efforts to be nice and shit, even smile at him--even if it’s something Sanemi had to do because Shinobu tricked him into it--
“All due respect, Shinazugawa-san--all I asked was for you to ask him out for salmon daikon. The smiling part was just an improvisation on your part.” She giggles with a mischievous glint in her purple eyes. “A clever one, I must say. I was 90% sure it would work.”
Sanemi stops mid-rant to glare at her menacingly. “The fuck are you implying,” he growls.
“Nothing at all, Shinazugawa-san,” she chirps happily. “Still, it would be nice if we got him to soften up a little. Not that I want to see him smile again. I enjoy eating my meals at peace.”
Shinobu leaves Sanemi with those vague words, not helping him relieve his annoyance any. Well, not that he expected her to--at this point, what he needs is to see Tomioka Giyuu and give him what he deserves. Get that pretty face of his into his hands, physically push the apparent insurmountable straight line of his mouth into something that can pass into a smile, and then…
And then…
Sanemi shakes his head furiously, get back on topic, you stupid bastard-- and then beat that emotionless jerk’s face into the ground with his bare fists. There, that’s what he meant all along, that’s everything the fucker deserves and more.
After the long walk to the estate, Sanemi takes a deep cleansing breath and slides his front door open. For a stressful day like this, what he needs is to make something nice. Ohagi would be good. Or maybe he’ll try replicating that sweet Western shit that Kanroji showed him the other day. What was it called, ‘honey pancakes’? That would cool his head a bit--
--except someone is waiting for him inside, sitting prim and proper past the threshold next to the furniture like he belongs there.
“Ah. Shinazugawa,” the visitor greets quietly. “Welcome back.”
“Tomioka.” Sanemi almost crushes the edge of the shoji with his bare hands. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing.”
Of-fucking-course the reason for his awful mood and the bane of his existence is the one to greet him after their sorry excuse of an afternoon.
Giyuu blinks carefully, staring at Sanemi and then at his surroundings, as if gauging if he’s missing something important. “Waiting for you.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Sanemi says through grit teeth. God how can one person be so… so! “What I don’t get is, why the fuck are you here, where I can beat you up into a pulp without anybody knowing?”
Giyuu gives him a look that asks, why would you do that? in mild, neutral curiosity. Not even scared or anything, which makes Sanemi madder than ever. “It’s about what we talked about earlier.”
“ What are you talking about. ”
“The salmon daikon,” he replies. At the furious way Sanemi’s eyes widen, he adds, “Do you not remember? In the meeting at Oyakata-sama’s garden earlier this afternoon, you asked me to eat salmon daikon with you. However, I wasn’t hungry, so--”
Mocking him now, huh? Sanemi stomps to him, fingers itching to strangle him, but he looms over him menacingly instead. “Wha--you think I’m senile?! Do you wanna die that badly?!”
The guy has the nerve to look confused. “I don’t think you’re senile. I was just answering your question.”
Sanemi grits his teeth so forcefully, he tastes the powder of his teeth. “Get to the fucking point, pretty boy, so I don’t have to waste any more time before I kill you!”
Despite his very straightforward threat, Giyuu stares at him calmly, eyes shining like sunlight on still water. It confuses Sanemi like a punch to his brain, so that he barely registers the next stupid thing that comes out of Giyuu’s mouth.
“I’m hungry now.”
Sanemi stares at him, eyes wider than ever. “... hah? ”
Giyuu blinks, unwitting of the steady rise of Sanemi’s blood pressure. “I wasn’t hungry before, but I am now. Salmon daikon would be good.”
He thought he knew what blinding rage felt like, but in the next instant a white noise fills Sanemi’s head, temporarily shutting down all his senses. It’s so intense that he wonders if this is what Shinobu called a paroxysm. If a vessel really exploded in his brain, he knew who to blame.
This guy-- this fucker. Is making it hard not to commit taboo right now.
“--azugawa? Shinazugawa?”
Somewhere, Tomioka’s voice cuts through the haze, and Sanemi blinks to find himself staring at those clueless blue eyes up close. His hand is on Giyuu’s collar, grip so tight it must be suffocating, but the guy remains calm.
When he sees Sanemi snap back to his senses, he asks, “Are you okay? You weren’t responding for a while back there.”
“Just. Fucking. Peachy.” Sanemi bares his teeth with an uncontrollable ripple of his jaw. The other hand comes up to further crumple up pretty boy’s starched shirt. It’s all he can do to stop himself from strangling him. “Tomioka. I’m going to count to ten. If you’re not gone by then--”
Giyuu furrows his brow in confusion. “But you’re holding me close. How am I supposed to leave?”
“Fuckin’-- don’t say it like that!”
“It’s true, though,” Giyuu points out, staring at his fists. “Why are you so angry, Shinazugawa? Did I do anything wrong?”
Get a clue, you bastard! “You piss me off! That’s all you need to know! Now get the fuck out of here!”
He doesn’t, though. “I have no intention of leaving. At least, not without you,” he adds, pausing to stare at the worrisome shift in Sanemi’s expression. “You said you’d eat salmon daikon with me. Were you not serious when you asked me out?”
Stupid, stubborn, piece of shit. Sanemi should kick the guy out of here, beat him unconscious, chuck him out the window if he needs to. But he knows this fucker enough to also know that he’s just as strong as he is clueless, and that no amount of ‘convincing’ from Sanemi will get him out of here.
And so Sanemi counts from one to ten, using full-force breathing the entire time, until he calms himself down. “Don’t say it like that,” he repeats, voice not any less dangerous.
“Like what?” Giyuu asks.
Sanemi clicks his tongue severely. “Like I asked you out! Like it’s a date, or something--”
Giyuu’s face is incomprehensible for exactly a beat before he nods. “Okay. It’s not a date.”
Why’s he looking so dull all of a sudden? With a grumble, Sanemi adds, “And fuck you, I don’t just say shit if I’m not gonna do it, so get that through that salmon-filled brain of yours.”
He hated the prospect of spending more time than necessary with Giyuu, but he was really going to take the bastard out for salmon. Even had a place in mind and everything. He’s sure he won’t enjoy it, but if it will get them the results that Oyakata-sama wanted, Sanemi’s just gonna suck up all his distaste and do it.
“Okay.” Much to his disdain, all those harsh words do exactly nothing to Giyuu, who goes to stand behind him. “So. Shall we?”
Sanemi grumbles one last time before storming out of the estate in a huff.
And so Sanemi stomps his way out of the Ubuyashiki properties and into the nearby town with Giyuu trailing close behind. The place Sanemi had in mind is an ordinary diner with okay food and a staff that doesn’t ask too many questions. He comes back here precisely for the last reason, and also because they have decent oyakodon.
They’re taken to a booth for two and settle down across each other, right into a silence that’s both easy and awkward. Not a problem for Sanemi--if it were up to him he didn’t have to hear Giyuu’s deadpan after they give their orders. Maybe he can pretend that this is a normal dinner, even though the waitress’ curious smile makes the absurdity of this harder to ignore.
Plus, Giyuu suddenly decides to speak up, for once. “Shinazugawa. Sorry for saying this, but this is…”
Sanemi’s eye twitches. Oh, is pretty boy gonna complain now? He expected as much, to be honest.
Giyuu bows his head slightly. “... that is… Shinobu explained everything. Why Ubuyashiki-sama brought all of you together in the first place. It’s a relief to know that Rengoku and Kanroji weren’t just bullying me, although Iguro definitely looked like he wanted to kill me regardless. Um, so.”
Tch, Sanemi thinks. This fucker had some sense of self-awareness, after all. Maybe he isn’t as hopeless as any of them thought. He’s still horribly awkward about it though, that Sanemi’s tempted to kick him under the table just to save him from fumbling any further.
Just as he gets to it, though, Sanemi sees both corners of Giyuu’s mouth twitch upward and… and stay there. His eyes are still dead, but the change is there. Slight and barely there, but obvious.
Tomioka Giyuu is… smiling at him.
“So… thank you,” Giyuu says. “Even if you did it for Ubuyashiki-sama. I appreciate it.”
“Ah. Sure,” Sanemi replies, trying not to sound too awed. “Whatever. It’s not--”
Giyuu tilts his head, smile remaining on his mouth. Something about it makes Sanemi feel weird and anxious and slightly itchy, like there’s a tiny wave curling in his chest urging him to do something drastic. Like cut the table in two, punch a hole through the wall, kiss this pretty boy’s pretty mouth to make him stop smiling--
Fuck, Sanemi thinks in frustration. Just because this idiot’s a little cute--
Wait scratch that--cute is for dogs and babies, not water-breathing idiots with stupid hair and stupid eyes who think they’re too good for the rest of us--
As he sits there trying to shake the weird thoughts away, the waitress comes in with their orders. The salmon daikon is placed in front of Giyuu, while the oyakodon is placed in front of Sanemi. Giyuu stares at his food for a beat, sullen as the waitress pours sake for the two of them.
And this is where Sanemi decides to yell at Kochou Shinobu for being damn irresponsible. She could have given a warning better than the vague threats she said earlier. She could have told Sanemi that it’s dangerous. She could have told him to look away.
But she didn’t. And Sanemi has to suffer the moment that Tomioka Giyuu smiles with his eyes wide open and his heart unprotected.
He can’t ever put it into words ever, but if he were to try it’s like looking at the sun right after an eclipse--bright and hot enough to burn the insides of his eyes. The flat wasteland of Giyuu’s expression transforms into lushness; eyes glowing like the summer sea, pink lips gently parting to show pearly whites. There’s even a little pleased flush to his cheeks, usually clear and pale like untouched porcelain.
In an instant, Sanemi’s heart jumps so hard it punches a hole through his throat, and he forgets where he is.
It’s not just him. The waitress pales and almost drops the bottle of sake, while all manner of culteries are dropped behind Sanemi. There are choking noises and little gasps and worried whispers that sounded vaguely like is that guy gonna kill us? followed by a mild commotion and hurried requests for the bill.
“Shinazugawa?”
Pretty. Pretty, is all his mind is able to say.
The smile drops momentarily. “Are you okay?”
He blinks violently to reorient himself. “Yeah. Fuck. Just--” He picks up his chopsticks, gets a mouthful of chicken and rice, chews in a stupid attempt to get a hold of his senses. “Eat your damn salmon.”
Giyuu doesn’t have to be told twice. With a quiet itadakimasu, he gets right down to shoveling the food into his mouth like there’s no tomorrow. No manners at all, unminding of the bits of rice that stick to his smooth round cheeks which puff out with each chew, like a rodent munching through corn.
“You… you really like that damn salmon that much, huh.”
Giyuu nods happily. Fuck. Shinobu should have really warned him about this. This is all her fault.
Because at the face of all this--Tomioka Giyuu and his smile, his flushed cheeks, his oblivious ocean eyes that only see salmon and Sanemi--there’s no way that Sanemi won’t reach out to get the bits of rice sticking on his cheeks.
No way he’d let the touch linger for a little bit.
No way he’d watch Giyuu freeze under his touch, before warming up and quietly allow Sanemi to do all that, with a smile.
Pretty. Pretty.
Fuck. Isn’t Sanemi screwed?
*
After they finish their meals and pay the wary staff their due, Sanemi leads the way back home. Giyuu trails behind him, skin just a little flushed from the sake but otherwise steady. He isn’t smiling anymore, though, and Sanemi thinks he can recover from this strange night without any further problems.
They’re at the crossroads where their estates are on opposite ends when Giyuu calls out to him and breaks that illusion. “Shinazugawa.”
He clenches his fists at his sides. “What, Tomioka?”
Giyuu looks uneasy when Sanemi faces him. After an awkward stretch of silence, he says, “I’m twenty-one years old today.”
Ah, Sanemi thinks. So, it’s pretty boy’s birthday. Maybe that’s why Oyakata-sama made them do something so absurd today, of all days. He wonders if any of the other pillars knew. Sanemi sure as hell didn’t--the only living person’s birthday that mattered to him was Genya’s, and he’s lucky enough if he remembered his own birthday later in the year.
February 8th. Despite his best efforts not to, Sanemi’s betrayer of a brain files the day away for future reference. “That so? Congratulations,” he mutters.
“Thank you,” Giyuu says. Another beat of anxiously rummaging through his brain for words. “So when it’s your turn...”
He stops, suddenly realizing how naive his statement is. Nobody really counts birthdays in this profession. Nobody is really sure whether a longer life is better than a short one, living this type of life. Sanemi sure isn’t looking forward to any of that.
Still, Giyuu pushes forward. “It doesn’t have to be that long,” he decides finally. “We should do this again.”
Sanemi stares at him with wide eyes. “Hah?”
Giyuu nods. “Go out with me, Shinazugawa,” he says, softly. “... on another not-date.”
Sanemi stares for far longer than necessary. And then this situation becomes unfair, because Giyuu may not be smiling anymore, but his cheeks turn beet red and his eyes shine anxiously and his teeth bite down on his lip, as he waits for Sanemi to say something back. A wind blows between them and whips his raven hair about, causing him to raise a delicate hand to tuck an errant strand behind his ear.
The effect is as devastating as one would expect. Through the painful clench in his heart, Sanemi answers, “Yeah. Okay.”
Giyuu looks up and blinks prettily at him. “Really?”
Fuck. “Yeah.” Stupidly, he mutters, “Doesn’t have to be a… not-date, or whatever.”
Under the moonlight, Giyuu’s face transforms. Soft and gentle, slowly growing as bright as an electric light, he beams. Sanemi actually feels helpless under it.
“Okay,” Giyuu says happily. “It’s a date then.”
And so Sanemi has unwittingly accomplished a task that the other hashiras didn’t. Yet as he stumbles home to breathe behind closed doors, he wonders if this is something he ought to report to Oyakata-sama. He should, but it’s too fucking embarrassing to admit that he can’t stop himself from smiling, either.
And for the first time after a long time, he finds himself looking forward to surviving his next birthday, if only to see that pretty boy’s smile glowing in the dark night.