"Where did you get this, Nuriko?" Hotohori fingered the delicate pattern on the back of the ivory hairbrush his friend held. Nuriko closed his eyes.
"It was my sister's...well, it was originally our mother's, but she gave it to Kourin as a birthday present," he said.
"Oh." Hotohori nodded sympathetically.
"They gave it to me after she died, and I used it the whole time I was trying to live as her," Nuriko continued. "But now that I've stopped it just holds too many painful memories." He smiled sadly. "She used it on my hair, and my brother's hair, more often than she did her own...it hurts to keep it, but I can't bear to get rid of it. I know it's silly, it's just a hairbrush, but still..."
Hotohori placed a hand on his shoulder, and Nuriko tried not to blush.
"I know how that feels. I still have many of my father's old heirlooms locked away," he said. "It's hard to get rid of certain things, even if they bring painful memories."
Suddenly, an idea came to Nuriko.
"Hotohori-sama," he said, holding the brush out, "I would like you to have this."
"Me...?" Hotohori blinked. "Nuriko, are you sure? This is a keepsake of your sister's, after all."
"I am. I know you have much nicer brushes than this, but...I just think you should have it. You're one of the most important people in the world to me." It was the closest he'd ever come to actually confessing his love. "So please..."
Hotohori smiled, reluctantly taking the brush from the smaller Seishi's hand and placing it on the table.
"Thank you, Nuriko. I do have several other brushes, but this one will mean the most because you gave it to me."
As Hotohori pulled him into a hug, Nuriko wondered if he was only dreaming.
If I am, I'll clobber whoever wakes me up.