She had to be the prettiest person he had ever seen. Period. Point blank. Full stop.
That he had turned at Kyojuro's approach and caught her gaping was not a total surprise; many people gaped at him. His mask, his eyes, his wardrobe all tended to garner stares. He normally took it all and flexed his spiked armor; a disdainful roll of his eyes or an ugly quirk of his eyebrow enough to send people scrambling. But her...oh, her… He hadn't been able to raise any defenses in time. It was a lead pipe to the brain.
So bright, so beautiful. Her long hair was voluminous, fluffy, almost cotton candy in its softness. Her cheeks stained a dull pink, her lips pillowed and glossed, her fingers elegant, her legs long long long loNG. And her eyes, her eyes…
Those lovely green eyes, fresh springtime new grass green, looking right at him.
Looking a little uncomfortable, probably because of him, she had slouched into her pink sweater and floated away.
But then...and then…
She had stayed. And continued to stay.
Now, Obanai could not help but stare at Mitsuri as she chattered away to Kyojuro, sparing him (him!) a glance every two minutes or so. She glowed in the bonfire's flickering light; her face, her hair, her eyes illuminated to a radiant shine. How was someone supposed to look away, least of all him?
After they had trudged their way down to Gyomei's fire pit, she had been immediately scooped up by an already blitzed Tengen. (How someone as big as he could be so easily tanked by a few mixed drinks was beyond Obanai.) She had squealed and laughed, shrieking weak protests, her smile lighting up the surrounding darkness like a star. A sharp, ugly thorn he had identified as jealousy had bitten into his side; the puncture wound still lingered there with a dull throb. That Tengen had so boldly invaded her space and boundaries, clutching his hands all over her despite a repeated chorus of "put me down, please!"s from Mitsuri, set Obanai's blood at a simmer. Mostly because he felt righteous indignation against anyone who did not adhere to the same manners that had been thrashed into him; but partly, a small part, an ugly twisted insidious little part, because he wished it was him with that gall, those hands on her.
But what was the point in entertaining that subtle cancer? He would never be that bold. He would never grow that large. Obanai tried to fight the rotten lot he had received in life on multiple fronts, but there were just some things one couldn't change. One's nature. One's skeleton. One's scars.
Currently, Obanai hovered near Mitsuri at the outskirts of the pit. It wasn't so much of a pit, more of a clearing than anything else. There was ample room for any number of people to gather, replete with felled logs to serve as benches and a shallow, blackened ring of the ghosts of fires past.
She and Kyojuro were engaged in a back-and-forth about alcohol tolerance. They had ample subjects; Sanemi, who drank for a hobby, was faring fairly well: an obvious increase in volume and a greater propensity to smile his only tells. Tengen was now one step beyond blitzed and one step closer to trashed, stumbling around with that huge, stupid grin on his face and complimenting the outfits of the people he'd deemed worthy to fuck. He was shockingly conversant when blacked out, so when he claimed a lack of memory the next day it only ever sounded like an excuse. Always on his bullshit, it seemed. And Tomioka, that idiot asshole, was definitely drunk. You just wouldn't know it if you didn't know him. He was sat on the ground some ways away, gazing upon them all with the blankest stare, imperceptibly swaying.
Oh yeah. He was gone for sure.
As for Kyojuro, he seemed pleasantly buzzed, radiating that engaging, open charm he was known for at a higher voltage.
And Mitsuri…
She had been nursing that mixed drink of hers for at least an hour. She was fully in her faculties.
And she was stunning. A vision. A beauty. She couldn't be real.
"Is Giyuu alright?" Mitsuri wondered aloud, leaning to look past Kyojuro at the village idiot, her breath fogging pleasantly.
Kyojuro's laugh was a rousing blast.
Obanai liked Kyojuro. He was upfront and friendly in a way Obanai found difficult to replicate, and was respectful, inclusive, and brimming with sincerity. This set him distinctly apart from Tengen, who could also be described as charming and charismatic but always gave the sense that there was an ulterior motive. Tengen seemed calculating, while Kyojuro led entirely from the heart.
"Who knows? Once Shinobu gets here, we'll be able to tell. She has the best read on him." Kyojuro turned to Obanai and, for his benefit, added, "I know you have only seen Giyuu as serious, but it is remarkable how he changes when Shinobu is near. The expressions she can wring out of him!"
Obanai, looking for any excuse to tether himself to her longer, aimed an "Oh?" Mitsuri's way.
"Kyo means that there is a change of expression, period." Mitsuri smiled as if sharing a secret, and it hit Obanai in the face like a fist.
"If you say so. I'll only believe it if I see it," Obanai said. He shrugged a little deeper into his leather jacket. His aloofness was the thinnest veil; that he was able to recover from that knockout smile and respond in a reasonable amount of time was more than a feat of strength.
Mitsuri didn't seem to notice, blazing cheerily along. "Oh, Shinobu can do anything! She's amazing! I didn't know Giyuu's eyebrows could move at all until I saw them together!"
Her laugh was all-consuming. Obanai hadn't realized it was possible for a person's face to look that happy, how did she manage it? Oh God, she was so pretty. Her sweetly pink cheeks swallowed up her eyes as she smiled, her mouth all lips and teeth. Her laugh swelled out like bells. She was so...uninhibited.
Mitsuri Mitsuri pretty pretty she's so pretty Mitsuri's so pretty-
Her smile softened as her laughter slowly died before a darker thought crossed her face. "I hope Shinobu's alright, it's not like her to be this late," she said, squirming a little in Kyojuro's direction.
"Did she say anything?" Kyojuro asked.
Mitsuri pulled her phone out from her back pocket and glanced at it. "Just that something came up with Sumi and that it wouldn't take long."
"Would she text you that she got here?"
Mitsuri hummed a worried little sound, a 'she should have already' heavily implied, and sloshed the remaining ice around in her cup.
Obanai saw the opening and snagged at his chance. "Would you like another drink? We can go wait for your friend up at the house, if that would make you feel better," he offered lamely.
Fuck. He felt weak, puny. Stupid. Tengen could have offered this with ease; that galumphing moron always seemed so suave when he pulled shit like this, but Obanai very clearly was trying too hard, fuck fuck fuck what would she-
Mitsuri bounded closer to him and grabbed his hand in hers. "Oh, really? That's such a good idea! That would be so great! Yesofcourseplease!" she beamed at him, her green eyes bearing down on him like the sun. Obanai felt like his breath had been knocked out.
She must have acted entirely on impulse, because she briefly paused, looking at their conjoined hands, before blushing. She then looked up at him through her eyelashes with the shyest smile he had ever seen and murmured softly, "You'd do that with me?"
She was taller than he was, how did she manage that? That eye thing? How did girls do it?! This was why he normally avoided girls like the plague, because they pulled shit like this and expected to get everything they wanted, they swiveled and angled and swirled and then you were GONE.
It was involuntary, Obanai's breathless nod. With that look, he would have agreed to anything she said. He felt his palms sweat.
She made it all look so easy, so comfortable. That she had so effortlessly grabbed his hand, like it was nothing. Like she had wanted to touch him.
He was sorry when she released his hand, but the joy she shot him almost made it worth it. "Oh yay!" she crooned. With one final slosh of her ice, Mitsuri turned and said, "Come on, buddy!"
She tossed a look back at Kyojuro and announced plainly, "We have a buddy system tonight."
Kyojuro's laugh came, as expected, but the look he gave Obanai afterwards was not. It was an odd, assessing look; Kyojuro's eyes, almost owl-like, scanned him head on. "No one is more reliable than Obanai," was all he said in reply.
It felt cryptic as fuck. Kyojuro better not say anything else, like about before.
Kyojuro's stare must not have been abnormal for Mitsuri, because she turned a glowing glance on Obanai. "I definitely think so, too," she added.
This whiplash between mind-altering anxiety, heavy self-loathing, and his heart growing three sizes every few minutes was too much. How much stress could his body take before he had an aneurysm?
More, always more. He was a glutton for punishment. He'd always manage.
Once inside, back in the light, he found himself greedily cataloguing her, ravenous for any detail of her. That pastel hair, thick and reaching, her braids spun sugar landing midway down her back. He wondered if it might melt on his tongue. That distinct Cupid's bow, those succulent lips. Her sweet, round cheeks, needing to be either lovingly kissed or ...or… But why would he dare mar that skin? He, above all? It didn't matter; he felt a hypocritical, ugly, loathsome, disgusting, foul urge to bite them, wanted to know what that skin felt like between his teeth, what noises could be wrung from her.
For all that he locked his mouth away from the world, every single impulse he had now begged for no mask at all, just lips and teeth and breath and tongue.
His imagination readily supplied the sight of Mitsuri; hair loose, face flushed, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, hands outstretched, legs angled, horizontal in his room in his bedinhissheetsstickywithsweateagerforhishandsandbodyandMOUTH-
Obanai was momentarily overwhelmed by the raging, prurient scream his body had released upon seeing her in light once more.
Very rarely did anything like a primal urge rear its head for him, his self control ironclad and his self loathing even more powerful. He could normally stamp these impulses down before they took shape, but this one surged into a full physical need. He choked a little.
Mitsuri turned to him from doctoring up a new drink. "Are you alright?" she asked.
Obanai coughed, returning to full brain capacity.
"Uh," was all he was able to provide.
She smiled at him and he hated himself, despised himself.
"That happens to me all the time. Like, out of nowhere, or if I'm not paying attention, BOOM I'm like, choking on my own spit or something."
"Yeah, I just" Obanai managed, "swallowed wrong."
He was disgusting.
"Swallowed wrong? What a disappointment. Mitsuri, make sure you never take this one to bed, you need a man who swallows right and willingly." A thoughtful pause. "Or woman."
Fuck.
Tengen sauntered into the kitchen, hands clasped behind his head in a habitual stance, the hem of his shirt riding up a little to tease a view of severe V lines and abs made of concrete. That stupid fucking anime pose, Obanai thought viciously.
Mitsuri gasped and laughed a little out of surprise. "Tengen!"
"Hey, I don't know your preferences." He held his hands up in mock defense, that shit-eating grin ripping up any shred of decency he offered. "Just saying, if you're looking for someone who knows how to swallow, you've got my number."
"I think you're a little too busy for me," she replied, maintaining innocence. "You're already swallowing for three."
Obanai started, turning his attention back to Mitsuri. She stood there as mildly as if she had just commented on the weather, unaware that she was sending his mind reeling all over again.
Tengen roared with laughter and clapped her on the back with a large hand, his inebriation swinging him forward with too much force. "Atta girl, Mitsuri. But I'm gonna keep offering, there's always room for four," he said, the smarmy fuck.
Mitsuri laughed, taking it all as playful ribbing, but Obanai scowled.
When sober and on his own, Tengen was actually fine as a gym partner. He was knowledgeable about proper form and how to build muscle safely and correctly. Additionally, he would pepper in little encouragements that made you feel safe enough to open up, your insecurities ready to be addressed. But now…
Drunk Tengen was a shithead, plain and simple. Even in a polyamorous relationship with three women, he was insatiable. And he made this personality everyone else's problem.
"Shouldn't you be out back, harassing Rengoku?" Obanai all but snarled, and Tengen swiveled his head in a way that signaled danger.
"Oh, dear Kyo is the end goal, but right now I'm in here with the lovely Kanroji," Tengen purred, fingering the tail of one of Mitsuri's braids. "I'm just here helping you along, isn't that right?" he asked, tickling the end of her nose with her hair. She giggled placidly and swatted at his hand.
Tengen's narrowed eyes landed on Obanai again. "Is this the first time you've met Mitsuri? She hasn't ever come around the gym before, and I can't imagine where you would have met. Maybe it's good you don't come around, babe," he mused to her, "because every guy here would riot for you. We definitely have some guys who can lift almost as much as I do. No guys who are as flashy, though."
That asshole. Obanai fiercely regretted all those times he had shared something personal with Tengen. He knew, he knew, he knew, and he was still pulling this shit.
She smiled, angling back to the counter to pour some Diet Coke in her cup. "No one draws attention like you," she flattered. "I don't know, though, the way you all talk about the gym makes it sound a little too aggressive for me. What do you think, Obanai? Is it my scene?"
A flush of warmth spread in his chest. That was something to hold on to; Mitsuri wanted to talk to him at least as much as to Tengen.
Obanai sniffed. "I'm not sure. I have no doubt you could hold your own, but the Corps tends to get a little…gross."
"The Corps?"
"What we call our squad," Tengen interjected. "Me, Rengoku, Shinazugawa, Tomioka, Iguro here, and sometimes Himejima, when he doesn't have the teenagers' physical training sessions. I'm surprised Kyo never mentioned it to you," he said, quizzical.
"I guess Kyo wanted to keep you all to himself. I hadn't even met all of you before tonight! Like Shinazugawa, and Obanai." An achingly warm little glance was spared in his direction. "He's been really nice and helping take care of me, since Shinobu isn't here yet!" she explained for Tengen's benefit.
The delighted smirk Tengen sent his way set Obanai's blood at its previous simmer. "Oh, he's taking care of you, is he?" The words almost curled out of his mouth.
Tengen took a staggering step closer to Obanai before stacking to his full height. The picture was impressive, though Obanai was loathe to admit it. Tengen had to be close to seven feet tall, and was packed with thick, corded muscle that sat right in all the right places. He filled clothes out to the fullest meaning of the phrase, and what was worse was Tengen knew it. Obanai barely made it above Tengen's pec line and he was small, wiry, little; in no way could he ever look more impressive than Tengen. And that Tengen wanted to have a dick-measuring contest in front of Mitsuri was more than usual drunk-Tengen bullshit; to even try to compete was an effort in pitiful futility.
Obanai slunk in on himself, his only option to glower searingly up at Tengen.
To his surprise, though, Mitsuri placed a hand on Obanai's shoulder and she stepped in as well. "Yeah, he is!" she chirped. "Obanai's been so sweet, making me feel welcome amongst the gym crew. Or, uh, the Corps. Kyo can get distracted when there's a lot of people around," she added. Her hand was warm, reassuring.
Tengen swayed a little, considering. "Well, that is very sweet of him," he conceded.
She then pointed a finger at Tengen, making him stand at attention. "So I think you should tease him a little less, okay? He's my buddy for tonight, and you're being all weird and gooey at him."
Tengen's smile seemed placating, but Obanai knew him better than that, had seen him drunk before. "Of course, Mitsuri. I'll lay off. I just like giving little Obie a hard time." Obanai wanted to kill him. Little Obie?!
A buzz came from Mitsuri's back pocket and she swiveled away to look at it. Her attention occupied, Obanai gave his iciest glare to Tengen and earned a cheeky wink in response. His hands almost quaked from resisting throttling Tengen.
"Fucking cool it," Obanai hissed.
"What?" Tengen whispered back. "I'm just helping you out a little, is all. She's amazing, isn't she? That she got all of this out of you tonight," he chuckled. "I've never seen you like this before."
Obanai was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
Tengen's answer was swallowed by a sharp, bright cry from Mitsuri. "Shinobu's here!" she squealed, and pranced away to the front door in search of her mysterious friend, not waiting for anyone to follow her.
Obanai hadn't even realized he unconsciously moved to follow her until Tengen's arm zipped out, making a partition in the door frame.
"So…" Tengen drawled, back to full volume. "Mitsuri, huh?"
Obanai's face flushed and he sunk into his leather jacket. "What are you talking about, you drunk fuck?"
Tengen ducked down to lean an elbow on the counter, bringing his face level with Obanai's. It was a wonder his spine didn't snap on the way down. "You know what I'm talking about. You have eyes." Obanai spluttered some weak retort, but Tengen continued. "I know I've told you about Kyojuro's insanely hot roommate before. And here she is, huh? I just think it's funny that as soon as she shows up, you don't leave her side. Rather unlike you, hmmm Obanai?"
"I don't know what you're-" Obanai tried to counter, but the excuse rang hollow in his ears before he could finish. "She doesn't know anyone here, so she asked me to help be a buffer."
"Oh yeah," Tengen smirked, bringing a finger up to Obanai's forehead. "You're her buddy. How's it feel to be her buddy?" he asked as he pushed.
Obanai snarled and shoved Tengen's hand away, spitting "fuck off" in his direction. Tengen only laughed.
"I can't say I blame you. I mean, if I was single and Mitsuri came up to me, squeezing her tits together, I'd be her bitch too. There isn't much I wouldn't do for a piece of that."
"Ugh, you're so crass." Obanai kept his gaze averted, refusing to participate.
"Come on, don't tell me you saw that hair and didn't imagine pulling on it," Tengen mimed his hands in handlebars, and Obanai had to lash out with a smack to prevent Tengen from seeing that image flash across his face.
He seethed, "Tengen, stop. I'm serious, you need to stop." Before I deck you across the face, maim you, skewer you, kill you floated in the air after it, unsaid. Obanai didn't know how to make it clearer, he wasn't going to tolerate this drunk monkey talking about Mitsuri any longer.
Tengen considered him, narrowing his eyes. But then his hands softened at the wrists, offering mild penance. "Message received." He stumbled a little, reaching for a cup, and Obanai took this as his cue to intervene. "Oh no you don't," he said, swooping in to steer him towards the sink. "You're cut off, from here on out."
Only after Tengen had started guzzling water from the faucet did Obanai let himself mull over what Tengen had said. He hated himself as he tucked away each image to pull out later, tokens of lust and shame.
Even still...
"She didn't squeeze anything together," Obanai mumbled, inaudible over the running faucet. "You don't know what you're talking about."
XxX
Mitsuri raced to the door, almost skidding into a few people in her rush. This giddiness that had been rising in her all night now had an outlet; Shinobu was here! "Shinobu!" she shrieked as she bolted past the door into the front lot.
"Mitsuri!" came the bedraggled reply. Clad in some black stiletto boots, a pair of leggings that looked like they had been melted on, a flattering lavender crop top, and only a chunky librarian knit cardigan to keep her warm, Shinobu staggered her way across the gravel, spitting curses as her knees and ankles bent to and fro. With a very un-Shinobu-like "oomph!", she stumbled into Mitsuri's open arms, graceful as a newborn foal. "I'm gonna kill Giyuu," she said, her sweet smile unable to mask the vein that pulsed at her temple. "This is why nobody likes him."
Mitsuri laughed warmly and openly, enveloping her friend in a sound embrace.
"First, a chunk of Sumi's hair burns off when they're playing with my curling iron, so I have to fix that. Then the other girls want me to fix their hair too! Kanao is of course no help with that kind of thing. So I'm in a hurry to get out and grab the first shoes I see that match these pants. You'd think that moron could have said what the terrain was like; I dressed for a house party, I did not dress for a country stroll!"
"Oh yeah," Mitsuri said thoughtfully. "I forgot I was supposed to be mad at him too. He didn't say that it's mostly an outside party."
The color drained from Shinobu's face. "What?! What do you mean, there's an outside?"
"Yep. I've been sort of chilly all night. But at least you've got this!" Mitsuri took a dancing step back to admire the fluttering lavender. "It looks great! You look so beautiful, Shinobu! Like an edgy little Y2K fairy!" She found her adjectives as her eyes landed on the glittering butterfly clips pinning back Shinobu's bangs. She flicked at them to watch the wings move.
"Thank you! I'm glad it all comes together." Ire momentarily forgotten, Shinobu gave a little twirl. And then her crystalline eyes narrowed.
"Oh my. Where's your crop top, Mitsuri?"
Mitsuri's jaws clamped together in a grimace and she sucked air in through her teeth. Crap. Double crap. Triple quadruple gazillion crap. The only thing to do for it was admit defeat. "I ran out of time! This was the first thing I grabbed!"
Shinobu cried, "But we were going to match! How are we supposed to look like a girl group now?" She clutched at the fabric, her boucle sweater riding up, and huffed. "I'm going to be the only one with a frozen midriff!"
"I'll keep you warm all night! I'll hold you tight, like thiiiiissssssss" Mitsuri demonstrated with a squeeze "or, I could let Kyo do the job, he's always toasty." She pondered for a moment. "Tengen's been awfully needy tonight, maybe he should do it. You could bully him into getting some manners while you're there."
"Oh please. Tengen will get manners when you get brave enough to actually wear a crop top."
Mitsuri knew that she was joking, she definitely knew it. She even understood it. Shinobu simply did not say things to be mean to Mitsuri. And yet...it was hard not to receive that little joke with a dart of shock, a prick of hurt. A quiet voice inside her head whispered what would happen if Mitsuri ever did show some skin, show her shape, show those stripes. What people would say about her. What they probably already said. And Shinobu; beautiful tiny fairy person Shinobu, with those perfect thin legs, those narrow hips, that tiny waist, Shinobu who could wear a crop top every day and she would be adored Shinobu; she just didn't get it. It wasn't about bravery; it was about repulsion.
Mitsuri winced around a smile and clasped her hands in front of her chest. "Do I not look good tonight?"
Oof, no way to say that and not sound super needy.
"What? You look fine, Mitsuri. This sweater is cute; it's a soft, comfortable sort of look." Shinobu barely peeked at her, grabbing her phone to thumb through it on instinct. "You always look cute."
"Oh."
A moment of silence passed between them.
"What."
Mitsuri felt her face heat up and a thin sheen of sweat break out.
"Well it's just… I don't look good? Just fine?"
An extended moment of silence passed between them.
"What."
Oh, there was going to be no way around this. And even so, hadn't Mitsuri been brimming with joy about it not ten minutes ago? This is a bandaid, Mitsuri thought. Best to just rip it off.
"Mmmmmmuuuughhhhh…" Mitsuri moaned.
Okay, this band-aid maybe wasn't ready to go just yet. What if Shinobu made fun of her about him? WHAT IF SHINOBU DIDN'T LIKE HIM? Mitsuri hemmed and hawed and vocalized some agony, before JUST RIP IT soared through her mind and she admitted "There's a…. mmmmmuuuuugghhhhboy in there who I think-...who I think is-... … … I think he's rrreeeEALLY KUH-YUTE." Mitsuri then ducked her head, defending from an onslaught.
One delicate little crunch of gravel sounded as Shinobu approached. Woof, she was gonna get it for sure.
"Mitsuri, you better tell me who you met right this instant," Shinobu said, using her best soft little train-stopping voice.
Mitsuri felt like she went supernova, that small demand all the push she needed to release it all.
"OKAY! AAAHHH! Okay, ohmigosh, I can't. He's! Okay, so don't judge me. But! He's so cute! He's one of The Boys' gym friends! And! Okay so! I met two more tonight and he! He's so cool! He's like, alternative! And kinda edgy-looking! But he's with The Boys and! He has this jacket, it's amazing! He's like, thin. And all quick and skeleton-y! And! He has a mask on! He's so! Mysterious! But! He's amazing! He's so nice! He's so nice to me! He's been hanging out with me! He's so attentive and cool! And he says all these cool, funny lines! He's kind of sarcastic with people! And polite! With me! And it's so cool! And his eyes! He has these eyes!" Mitsuri reached her peak, or her breath capacity, and had to pause as she gasped for air.
Shinobu raised a shapely eyebrow. "...he has eyes?"
"Yes!" Mitsuri beamed.
Shinobu hesitated, trying to sort through the pile of compliments Mitsuri had dropped at her feet, but Mitsuri then proceeded to scale that pile and add its crown jewel.
"I think!" she declared at full volume, "he is a hunksicle!"
Shinobu's jaw dropped.
It took Mitsuri carrying Shinobu inside, situating themselves in the sitting room at the perfect angle, and literally pointing at Obanai before Shinobu could utter a full sentence. They were sat on one of the sofas and turned around to look into the kitchen, sinking low enough that they could hopefully spy without detection.
Mitsuri's hopeful wriggles could not be contained. Her face whipped back and forth between her friend and her buddy. "So what do you think?" she begged breathlessly.
Shinobu stared at him intently, quickly cultivating an aura of distinctly 'unimpressed'.
"Mitsuri," she managed through her teeth, "why is it, out of literal rooms full of the largest beefcakes you or I will ever see in our lives, you find the tiniest little man and declare him a 'hunksicle'?" She spit that last word out, syllabilizing it as if she would never be caught dead saying it under any other circumstance.
Mitsuri would not give ground on this one, even to Shinobu. Not yet, at least.
"No, look at him!" she whispered, glancing over her friend's head at the boy now sitting on the counter. He and Tengen were still sniping back and forth at each other, with the new development of Obanai holding Tengen's head and attempting to force it under the faucet. "He has those eyes, you know? Those eyes just go 'sshhnnk!' And and and! His hair is like 'fffwsst!' And! OH! He still has his jacket on, so you can't see, but his arms have muscles, too! He goes to the gym, too!"
Shinobu gave her a look.
"He is literally the size of Tengen's bicep."
Mitsuri was not going to let herself be cowed! She was determined!
"I don't think that's fair! You're the size of Tengen's below-the-elbow arm!"
Shinobu couldn't restrain the grin that unfurled. "...his forearm?"
Crap. It was hard to out-talk Shinobu.
Time for a different approach!
"Oof, no, listen!" Mitsuri's face slid to a pained expression. "Okay, yeah, he is a little smaller. But what am I supposed to do when every tall guy in the world wants to date short girls?" Shinobu straightened, and Mitsuri knew the bait was hooked. "I mean, Giyuu is how tall, 6'1"? And he only has eyes for you."
Shinobu's face dropped in horror and Mitsuri couldn't hide her glee.
"All the tall guys lose their minds for youuuuuu. That means only shorter guys are left for me! I have to make do where I can! And," she concluded, "I think Obanai is very very very cute and very very very nice, so it's not making do at all."
While Shinobu was certainly the smart one and could win any argument with logic, Mitsuri was not to be underestimated. Her powers of persuasion, when used, could knock down any barrier.
Shinobu grunted, acknowledging this little defeat. "Oh...fine. Fine! I'll reserve my further judgment."
"Yeeeeee!" Mitsuri shrieked, leaping up from the sofa and full-body picking Shinobu up in a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. She was so thrilled that she even spun them into the middle of the room, much to Shinobu's dismay. "Thank you thank you thank you!"
"Mi-Mitsuri!" Shinobu croaked. "T-too tight!"
"Oh! I'm sorry!"
Sometimes Mitsuri didn't realize how...much she was. Her grip was sometimes too strong, her voice was sometimes too loud, her body too...big.
This lapse of awareness had drawn the attention of not only the straggling few people with them in the sitting room, but in the kitchen as well. Tengen and Obanai both poked their heads into the room, Tengen with skeptical alarm and Obanai with surprised concern.
"Haha, sorry!" Mitsuri called out, absolutely mortified that she had been that loud; she let the small crowd disband before she turned again to Shinobu, wanting to bury her face under her friend's armpit.
He was going to think she was so weird.
XxX
It was late. It was very late. Many attendees had already left, so the party dwindled as the bonfire did. All remaining party-goers were sat outside around the fire pit, clinging to warmth; Gyomei floated from group to group, checking to see who had rides, who needed a couch to crash on, and who should already be downing water.
At one of the logs around the pit, Tengen had crashed within the last hour, falling asleep and snoring open-mouthed against a droopy Kyojuro's shoulder, who blearily struggled through conversation with Sanemi. Sanemi occasionally slapped his own face with force in an attempt to stay alert, and would gently pat at Kyo's cheeks or ruffle his hair if he started to wilt.
Across the fire, Giyuu, while clearly ready to leave, sat rigidly next to Shinobu, who shivered into his side and sniped little insults up at him when she felt like it. They had been creeping closer and closer together over the last hour, and they were only the fire dying away from Shinobu crawling into his lap and Giyuu wrapping himself around her like a blanket.
Mitsuri alone was upright and attentive, sitting at a log by herself. She gazed into the fire as her teeth chattered and she continuously folded her hands into her sleeves. The temperature had dropped as the evening progressed, and where she had managed to fight back chill earlier, she now succumbed. It was cold.
She bent her head over her knees and crossed her arms, shuddering. "Oh Giyuu," she mumbled to herself. "You big idiot."
She let gravity slip her braids over her ear, staring at the shiny material of the disco pants. What a night. It certainly hadn't been what she expected. Slinking through the kitchen without yielding to greater temptations had been a success. But there were other temptations that had presented themselves…
With surprise, her head jerked up as a weight draped itself over her shoulders. Obanai's pale arms glowed in the firelight as he stepped over the log to sit down next to her. Mitsuri stared at the black leather around her before turning to him. "Obanai!" she stammered. "Aren't you cold?"
It smelled like him. It was still warm from him.
He shrugged a little, his eyes smiling, as he readjusted his mask just below his nose. "I suppose," he said. "But I tend to not feel cold right away."
"Were you up in the house?" she asked.
"Yes. There was something" he hesitated "I had to check on."
Mitsuri gazed at him, his profile sharp as he looked into the fire. She wondered again why he didn't wear his mask over his nose. He didn't have a cold, and he didn't seem ill at all. Although, she amended to herself, there were plenty of illnesses that didn't make themselves known, and it wasn't her business to demand an explanation. Maybe it was just aesthetic. He definitely looked cool with it.
"Obanai, you don't have to lend me your jacket. I'll be alright," she pressed.
He shook his head. "I swear, I don't mind. You looked really uncomfortable, I'm not bothered at all. B-besides," he added, a little stutter creeping in to his voice. "I-it looks n-nice on you."
She felt herself blush for what must have been the thousandth time that night. He was so kind. He was so sweet. How could someone be this kind and this sweet to her? A brief, fierce thought flashed through her mind, that she wished she'd met Obanai before she'd ever gotten tangled up with him, but she stamped it out before it could take root. It was no use wishing for things like that.
With the arrival of Shinobu, Mitsuri's attention had been more actively pulled in different directions; she hadn't been able to linger at his side as much as she had wanted to. Even still, it felt like she'd been playing tag with him all night, floating apart before reappearing near each other again. She wanted him to want to talk to her as much as she wanted to talk to him. Wasn't it best to play coy, or disinterested, for that type of thing?
Instead, she smiled toothily, feeling that snag for attention rising in her throat. "You think I can pull off a leather jacket? Aren't I a little too pink for that?"
Obanai cocked his head, a smirk evident from below his mask. "Have you seen your hair? You shouldn't be asking me for fashion advice, I should be asking you. You could probably wear anything and look cool."
A dark thought flashed across his face, and his tone became vague. "I'm kind of surprised you don't have a boyfriend here to give you his jacket, to be honest." He said it so casually, but Mitsuri felt like ice had spread in her stomach.
"Oh!" she breathed. "Ha!"
They both looked at each other, alert.
"I actually," she choked out, "am single now. I don't have a boyfriend."
Obanai's gaze shifted.
He mulled over a thought for a moment. "You say that like... it's new ...Are you okay?" he offered.
"I!" Mitsuri chirped. A wave of panic swelled in her, feeling that familiar, tiny scratch-burn in her throat. Oh no. Absolutely not. She could not start crying now. She coughed a little to swallow it down and barrelled on through. "I'm fine! It's been a few months now. So it's not new."
He leaned in, angling his knees towards her.
"I...um...I know we just met, so I don't mean to pry but...are you okay?" he asked again.
Mitsuri blinked. A smile cracked on her face and she started giggling quietly. Obanai sat up, alarmed.
"I'm sorry!" she said, still giggling, waving a hand to put him at ease. "I don't mean to laugh! It's just," she added. "You know what I was sort of hoping for tonight? When we were all invited? I can't believe I'm telling you this, but" more giggles "I thought. Tonight. I sort of thought that tonight, if I found somebody to kiss, that might be fun. That that might be a way to...I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking. Isn't that so stupid?"
Obanai's hands were clenched on his knees, nails actually scraping at his denim. It was strange; his face was momentarily yet deeply anguished.
"I'm so stupid," she murmured, smiling. "Like a kiss is going to fix aaaaalllllll that."
Mitsuri abruptly looked at Obanai and panicked, realizing what she had said out loud. "Oh my gosh! I! Oh gosh please don't listen to anything I just said! I'm so crazy. Oh my gosh." She placed a hand to her forehead. "You're going to think I'm some crazy girl, talking about kissing people and not able to move past old relationship stuff! Waahh! I promise-"
"Hey," he said softly. Obanai seemed to have come to some internal decision, because he set a hand on the log and leaned toward her. "I don't think you're crazy."
Mitsuri nervously cracked a smile. "Are you sure? I don't even think I've told Kyo about it. What's up with that?"
As he had when they met, he gave the impression that he was carefully and intently giving all of his attention to her. "Well, we're buddies. I'm your buddy. It's our system."
She looked on him with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Who was this guy? What perfect sky had he fallen from?
"And, I mean, buddies don't...don't k-kiss-but I'm-...I'm here for you. I just, I mean I think you're...cool and it-" he staggered to an end point. "I'm your buddy. I look out for you."
An eensy-weensy little sliver in her chest, buried way way way deep in her heart, felt like it shattered, but it was so small and so teeny that Mitsuri almost didn't even feel it, couldn't say where it had come from or why.
A smile bloomed instead. "Do you mean it?" she asked, shy yet earnest.
Obanai nodded, very serious. It felt like he was holding his breath. Or a shiver.
"I'm so glad I met you tonight," she beamed at him.
He shifted where he sat. "I'm glad I met you," he replied.
And then, in a flash of bravery, she aggressively scooted towards him, gluing their sides together, and she reached to perch the jacket over both of them. Her arm closest to him snaked around and gripped his further elbow, pinning him to her.
"So, buddy," she said, almost triumphant. "Because you're my buddy, I'm going to need your number!"
Obanai had briefly frozen at the contact and gazed wide-eyed at her, but complied without hesitation. He whipped his phone out of his pocket.
And as they swapped phones and typed and as the fire died and as their breath fogged, they grinned.
Buddies. They were now officially buddies. Set in stone. For better or worse.