I've decided to give this challenge a try. Whatever. My OTP never gets any love, that's why. I'm still working on my other stories. They will get updated. This month (I actually hope it'll happen this week, but we'll see how it'll go) for sure. ALL THREE OF THEM. I'm not abandoning that Durarara! fic either ...

30 Day OTP Challenge, Day 1. Theme: Holding hands. (Or maybe rather a loose interpretation of this theme.)

I dedicate my efforts to Gin-Uzumaki from deviantART.

I still hope someone will enjoy this despite it being such an underappreciated pairing.

Edit: Oh my God, she drew an illustration for this story! I've set it as the story's cover, but please go to fav . me/d60anop to view it on deviantART! (Just remove the spaces before and after the dot.) QuQ

Warmth

The first thing which alerted Takasugi that someone was coming his way was the soft sound of feet tapping against the ground. Although he wanted to be alone at the moment, he made no move to stand up and walk away before he was found. He had remained in the same place for a while already and was not willing to change it merely because of an unwelcome intrusion.

After all, the shade of the tall tree the foot of which he was lying at was especially pleasant that scorching summer afternoon. Combined with a gentle breeze which caressed his face so lightly that it was barely detectable – and yet would be sorely missed if it were to stop blowing – it provided a much needed refuge from the heat.

Takasugi let his eyelids slide shut and inhaled deeply. Although it tickled, he chose to ignore the bead of perspiration rolling down his temple at least for the time being.

With his eyes closed, his other senses became more acute. He could hear the soft footsteps more clearly as they neared, and soon after he felt the minor disturbance in the current of air. It was then that he realised the person was already standing by his side, but he still refused to acknowledge their presence. Perhaps he would be left alone if he continued to ignore the intruder.

'My goodness! What happened?'

The familiar voice sounded surprisingly close to him, closer than he had expected it to.

Taken aback, Takasugi opened his eyes but averted his gaze almost immediately. 'Nothing did,' he muttered.

'I wouldn't call that "nothing". Your left wrist is completely swollen ...' said the male voice calmly, yet with concern. 'Shinsuke.'

There followed a short pause before Takasugi turned to look back at him and spoke again. 'It's nothing, Sensei.'

He saw that Shouyou was smiling – he almost always was. The fact always amazed Takasugi, to whom smiling did not come quite as naturally.

Not what could be considered a true smile, at least.

As he crouched by Takasugi's side, Shouyou asked, 'Were you practising?'

Initially, the boy did not reply, looking up at the firmament instead. 'It's all Gintoki's fault,' he muttered eventually. He extended his good hand, his fingers spread wide apart, and watched the few clouds gliding across the azure sky from behind the outstretched palm. 'If he hadn't played a dirty trick on me, I would've beaten Zura for sure.'

Shouyou gave a soft chuckle, but Takasugi knew he was not laughing at him. He never did. 'Kotarou's a worthy opponent, Shinsuke. You needn't be ashamed of yourself for losing,' said the man gently. 'Even if there was some foul play involved.'

Takasugi puffed his cheeks out almost indiscernibly as a trace of annoyance flitted across his face. He was about to curl the fingers of his raised hand when Shouyou took hold of it.

'Come,' said Shouyou and smiled kindly. 'Let's patch you up, shall we?'

The boy's expression softened somewhat and he stood up, holding onto his teacher's hand. Shouyou lifted himself off the ground as well and squeezed Takasugi's hand in a reassuring manner before letting go of it. 'But first ...' he began, 'you should probably return your shinai and bogu to the dojo.'

Takasugi had almost forgotten he was wearing the protective armour at all, although, admittedly, it was on the heavy side. Sighing, he picked up his bamboo sword from the ground and headed for the dojo where they practised swordsmanship.

After putting the shinai in its rightful place and taking off the bogu, he left the dojo. Still clad in his training clothes, he rushed to Shouyou's side. His bare feet were slightly sore, but he paid it no mind – it was usual after practice. He would put his socks and sandals on later on, when changing into his regular clothes.

With faintly reddened cheeks and panting softly, he appeared by the teacher's side and wiped the perspiration off his face with his right sleeve. A smile played on Shouyou's lips at the sight and they walked in the direction of his room.

When they arrived at the place, the pair entered and Shouyou suggested that Takasugi take a seat while he gathered everything he would need to tend his injury. Seated on the tatami-covered floor, Takasugi glanced around the neat room. It was like the rest of the house-cum-school: conventional, simple and orderly. However, something about the room still made it who it belonged to obvious, even though he could not quite put his finger on it.

A soft thud informed him that his teacher had returned to his side. Seeing the encouraging smile, he held out his left hand. The wrist was visibly swollen and it hurt him a little, but boys did not cry over such small things. They did not show weakness. They did not –

He hissed and winced when Shouyou's fingers came into contact with the painful area, even though the touch was most delicate.

All right, so perhaps it hurt more than just 'a little' when touched, but he wasn't going to cry because of something like –

The sharp pain that came next caused his train of thought to stop. Tears welled up in his eyes and he willed them away with all his might. Crying would be utterly embarrassing in this situation and he absolutely refused to tarnish his reputation any further!

'Like I thought, it's sprained,' said Shouyou with a sigh and reached for a bandage. 'Hold still.'

He started wrapping the strip of cloth around Takasugi's wrist, ensuring that it remained taut all the time. As he did so, the boy tried not to let any signs of pain make themselves known on his face.

The whole process did not take much time, and Takasugi noticed with relief that having his wrist bandaged made the pain much more bearable.

'Sensei,' he said quietly, holding the bandaged hand to his chest and feeling it with his right gently. '... Thank you.'

He was not good at thanking people and it made him feel uneasy, but Shouyou's expression seemed to soften even further at the simple words. An alien emotion stirred within Takasugi's heart at the sight and he averted his gaze quickly, suddenly finding himself unable to look his teacher in the eye. His parents never expressed much affection towards him, so he was unused to being treated so kindly. Only Shouyou seemed to care about him openly – others merely had high expectations of him.

'I'll have a word with Kotarou and Gintoki later. But, Shinsuke ...' he spoke in a soft voice, '... you shouldn't overwork yourself either. Injuries will only hinder your progress and I'm sure that's not what you're aiming for.'

Takasugi had been paying attention to his words only partially, but he nodded in agreement as he gazed at one of his teacher's hands absently.

The very same hand was offered to him mere seconds later when Shouyou lifted himself off the floor, and Takasugi blinked. He was quite sure he could stand up on his own, but he grabbed hold of Shouyou's hand nonetheless and looked up to see his kind, smiling face.

Shouyou-sensei's hand was warm.

No, it wasn't just the hand – it made his whole being fill with warmth.

And, for some inexplicable reason, that sort of warmth felt comfortable despite it being a scalding hot day.