Reassurance - Imanotsurugi/Hizamaru
2206.07.
Hizamaru is looking out the window again.
Imanotsurugi would understand if it had been a while, but it hasn’t. Higekiri only left this morning. And Imanotsurugi would understand if it was going to be a while before he returned, but he’s only going to be gone for a few hours, on a mission for the master. One that will net them something tasty, Imanotsurugi is sure, but that requires the absence of six of their number - including Higekiri. And Iwatooshi.
So maybe Imanotsurugi understands Hizamaru after all.
Still, it’s not like looking out the window like a beleaguered wife is going to help anything. Imanotsurugi flops down onto a futon - folded up but not put away. If he presses his nose against it, he can still smell Higekiri’s scent. There’s nothing wrong with his nose, after all.
It’s only been a few hours since Iwatooshi left, kissing him goodbye, but the memory of what he tasted like is already fading.
Imanotsurugi shakes his head. He’s been here before, mournful and waiting, except it was with Higekiri. Either way, though, he doesn’t want to do it all over again.
“Usumidoriiii,” he whines. “I’m bored. Play with me.”
Absently, Hizamaru’s hand finds Imanotsurugi’s head, petting him. It’s fine enough, as touches go, but it doesn’t really solve Imanotsurugi’s problem.
He tries again.
“You could ask the master not to send him without you,” Imanotsurugi says. “Or just not to send him. She’d listen, you know.”
“Yes, but Anija…”
Hizamaru trails off. Not that he needs to finish. Imanotsurugi knows what the tachi is thinking, because he’s thinking it too. Imanotsurugi could ask the master not to send Iwatooshi, and he wouldn’t be sent. He could order Iwatooshi not to go, and he wouldn’t go.
But that wouldn’t be fair, now would it?
Imanotsurugi sinks into the futon, thinking this over. He doesn’t want either Iwatooshi or Higekiri to be held back on their account, not that it would matter right now, since they’ve already been sent out. But he doesn’t want to see Hizamaru moping like this, either. Plus, he’s still bored, which is something he can’t stand.
He pushes himself up from the futon, and wraps his arms around Hizamaru’s shoulders, burying his face in the tachi’s neck.
“They’ll be fine,” Imanotsurugi says, his voice muffled by Hizamaru’s clothing. “They’re strong. They’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Hizamaru replies, his voice creaking like it’s about to break. “I know, but still…”
Imanotsurugi rubs his nose against the short, soft hairs at the back of Hizamaru’s neck, and feels a shudder run through the other sword’s spine.
“I-Imanotsurugi!” Hizamaru says, almost squeaking, and Imanotsurugi knows he has his full attention now, even as he tries to pull away.
Imanotsurugi grins at him, his amber eyes and flustered cheeks.
“What?” Imanotsurugi asks innocently, batting his eyelashes in a way Hizamaru finds irresistible. He knows, because Higekiri used that move on him all the time, and Hizamaru falls for it, every time.
Like now. Hizamaru is looking at him, the colour of his cheeks deepening, his throat working as he swallows. Imanotsurugi holds him tighter, tilting his head, inviting Hizamaru in closer.
“Aren’t I your big brother too?” Imanotsurugi asks.
“I-“ Hizamaru says, breaking off. His brain is in no situation to make a proper count, to evaluate if that’s true. Besides, it’s Sanjou against Mofusa, which is hardly a fair fight no matter what’s being measured. So Hizamaru looks away, his cheeks flooding crimson, and he nods.
“I guess so,” he says, and it’s all the invitation Imanotsurugi needs.
They may be without their other halves, and maybe it won’t be as fun without them. But Imanotsurugi isn’t going to sit around being bored, and he won’t let Hizamaru do that, either. Even if it takes a little reassurance to get him there.