on equal terms

A/N: Sad and sentimental adults are sexy adults. I'm pushing this as long as I can, so feedback is always appreciated, thanks for reading!

Genma notices sixteen things when he is allowed to stay past morning.

Post-war. Mild AU. A ninja and a samurai try the "lovers" thing, hoping for things to go awry.

Smelling salts.

Genma notices she has them, lots of them, in her bathroom. They're all different kinds, but they're all from the same store. That much he can tell from the packaging boxes stacked on the shelves. He's heard of these before, when the spring season would come around and the specialty stores in Konoha would have these shipped all the way from Hana no Kuni. Smelling salts aren't exactly cheap, but then again the woman who owns them isn't exactly from the worker class.

Another thing he notices in her bathroom are the towels. Yes. Plural. All neatly folded with the crest of her family embroidered on each and every one of them. This feels too much. Being in her personal bathroom feels too much. He should have asked to use the one downstairs, but now that he's here and–

That's right. He's here… taking a piss… in her bathroom with all her things… because… Because what?

Because she offered and he took it, just like that.

So he shouldn't feel so awkward taking a piss in a woman's bathroom, a nice-smelling bathroom too… Is there a reason why she has all these smelling salts? Why there's so much flowers on the windowsill and too many bath products… everywhere?

What– What does he care, anyway? Why was he even looking? It's not like he feels this is… something important between them. After all, their relationship is professional, between sparring partners, between samurai and ninja, between… equals?

Is it?

It's their fifth sparring session, and this is starting to become routine. On Tuesdays, Genma spends his afternoons sparring with the samurai. He doesn't ask much about her and neither does she. It's a physical language, he knows. Sparring is already conversation enough between two strangers like them. But Genma understands a little now, why Raidou blocks his Wednesday and Saturday mornings to do katas with the samurai, why Gai and his team spend what free time they have learning about the foreign practices, why Kakashi takes lunches with her.

The samurai is a nice person.

When she pushes him a little too fast or kicks a little too hard, she is quick to apologize, to ask if he's alright, if he wants to stop. She's a little too nice, he thinks, to be part of the supposedly formidable military force. Samurai should be harder and sharper than steel, stricter than anyone else, and firm believers in fair fights and just causes. This samurai might be the same, but as she is dressed plainly and simply, and looks, acts, and talks like nothing he thinks samurai ought to be.

So when their eighth session ends, he almost expects her parting words to him.

"I really am grateful you accepted my request, Shiranui-san," she says after wiping the sweat from her face.

He feels that she's going to continue, but when she doesn't and just smiles nervously at him, he replies honestly, "I have nothing else to do, anyway."

She chuckles slightly, "I feel bad hogging your time like this."

"It's no problem, really," he starts to think of something to avoid the awkward moment between the end of their session and him leaving, but he just looks around the wide space.

"So…"

She suggests, "Would you like to wash up?"

He knows she doesn't mean anything rude. She isn't implying that he's starting to smell or he's dirty, even if he can feel his clothes sticking to his skin and his hair to the back of his neck. It's particularly hot today and the way she's still wiping her face tells him she already wants to take a cold, cold shower.

"Sure, if that's all right," he nods, knowing already here the washroom is.

"Oh, there's an issue with the sink there," she says when he's already making his way towards it, "you can use the one upstairs."

Upstairs. He hasn't been upstairs. That's her living quarters, isn't it? Wouldn't that be… intrusive? He could just wash up when he gets home…

"It's the door, when you go up," she points up the narrow stairwell, "well, it's the only door there, so…"

He follows her hand and looks up the stairs, then at her. She looks like she's expecting him to go up anytime now.

"Okay, sure," he nods and takes the first step up, "thanks."

The stairwell is narrow and the steps are steep, something one can either appreciate or dislike about older architecture. Genma thinks the samurai chose this building, out of the many others, because it reminded them of their home. From what little he knows about the architecture of samurai buildings, the elite's homes are mazes of paper walls, painted doors, narrow passageways, and rock-and-bamboo gardens. What could hers be, then?

When he reaches the last step and turns toward the living space, he's almost surprised by how lived-in it already feels.

Which leads him to this situation; just having taken a piss in the samurai's personal bathroom filled with smelling salts and towels he feels are somehow patronizing him. He should leave, he should be on his way out by now, and maybe she's wondering–

When he opens the door, she's standing in front of him with a plate in her hands.

"There's food this time," she says suddenly, "would you– would you like to eat here?"

He looks to the dinette in the middle of her space.

"Uh…"

This feels a little too quick, doesn't it? He thinks he should tell her no, but there's something in him that wants to tell her yes.

And that thing's his nose– What was she cooking and why does it smell so…

Damn it.

And there's another thing that wants him to say yes, and that's his stomach. But he looks out the window, and she has lots of them here, all big and wide and very… open, and sees that it's still early in the afternoon. It's still hot outside.

Da-a-amn it.

"Sure."

The only reason he says yes is because it's a free meal and doesn't have anything else to do for the next hour. He doesn't have anything to do at all. On Tuesdays and Thursdays it's just this thing with her in the afternoon, the rest of his day is up to whatever he feels like. Whatever he eats depends on what he feels like eating. And right now, seeing her set the table and grab with eager hands a really nice-looking pot straight from the stove…

It makes him pause to think about how… domestic this all feels. Does she do this with everyone? With Raidou? Kakashi? Gai and his students? Everyone else? Her easiness with all this tells him she does, so this isn't anything done special just for him. Why would he think that? She isn't– They aren't–

It's almost unnerves him how this is one of the endings he thought about when he was much, much younger. Now, he's thirty-three years old and has two wars' worth of experience, and Genma can say that this is the least expected ending he'd have in the post-war. Ending? Was that what this is called? For him? For her? Is this going to be what it's like until… Until what? The next war? And– And how long does she plan on staying here, anyway?

He has too many questions all roving around in his head, but he still hears her talk, still sees her move. She's too comfortable with all this, with him seating across her and eating her food, and…

He dislikes how much he likes her cooking. He dislikes even more how he can tell she likes that he likes her food.

Oh, damn it.

"Is it– Is it any good?"

She sounds eager.

"Yeah, it's… it's, uh… it's good."

It wasn't supposed to come out like that.

"Oh," she sounds glad, relieved almost, "thank you, Namiashi-san recommended it."

What– He– Why would he– No, why would she–

"He mentioned your favorite food," and she adds hurriedly, "because I asked."

She did?

He doesn't know what response he could make, because she'd very clearly said that she asked his best friend what his favorite food is so she could make it just for him– Still, Genma refuses to believe any of it. There is way she would just do this, whatever this is, just for him.

"And I asked if you had a least favorite, and I knew a recipe with both and…"

She stops, and the abruptness of it all tells him that she's made a mistake, that she's done something she now regrets. She looks at his bowl and notices what he's purposely not eating.

He blinks at her.

Was this– Was this some part of a supposedly elaborate trick? Did she purposely put in spinach in this soup to see what he'd do? Was this just… for fun?

"…and he said that no matter how much it's dressed up, minced and mixed in, you'd still know."

So did Raidou put her up to this? Were they already that close? Did Raidou purposely tell her about his food preferences to… to what exactly?

"It was a bet."

Oh, so that's what it was. And he's just the unlucky one being bet on?

But then she laughs. Her posture tells him she feels defeated, but she's laughing; the entire thing tells him she's embarrassed, humiliated, she wants to dive into the soup pot and drown in it.

"He wanted to know if I could get you to eat it," she's still laughing, "if I knew a recipe that could get you to eat it. He was worried you weren't getting enough fiber."

Raidou, why the hell–

Genma doesn't understand why Raidou would do such a thing and get the samurai involved, or why Raidou thought it would be a great idea to have the samurai cook up his favorite food with his least favorite vegetable. It wasn't that Genma actively hated and opposed eating spinach. He doesn't have any bad or foul memories with the vegetable, it's just a matter of preference. If he had a choice, he wouldn't eat it.

And now she knows about it, which is… strange enough as it is. But what's even stranger is that she asked Raidou and not him. So what's that about? Why didn't she just ask him?

"I should have just asked you directly."

"So why didn't you?"

Genma doesn't regret asking her so plainly, and she isn't surprised by it either. The way she breathes through her nose shows a kind of poise, a kind of readiness. She didn't do all this just because, there is a reason, her actions are within reason.

"I asked Namiashi-san before our first session."

Oh, well she should have said so from the start.

"And I haven't made pumpkin soup before, so… so I've had to learn it."

Learn it? Was she– Did she make this from scratch?

He honestly didn't expect any of her answers, much less the fact that she and Raidou had that conversation before she even met him. Why would she need his food preferences? Is it really in her set of goals to impress her shinobi company? For what?

"So I understand if… I should have just asked you when we first met, but I didn't want to seem… imposing."

Why is she hesitating? Why does she sound so guilty?

"And you don't… linger as long as the others, and you always come alone, so I didn't…"

This is just food! This is just about food!

"I wanted to thank you properly, I wanted to thank you the same way I do the others."

She says it all without a beat, without a pause, and that tells him she's telling the truth. She's being honest. And if her earlier hesitation in any indication, it's because she was afraid of how he'll react– No, not afraid, she's cautious. She's already aware, the same way he is, that they're already such good… sparring partners. On the road to friends, or at least good acquaintances.

"Oh," he croaks, "thank you."

Buthe wasn't supposed to croak. He wasn't supposed to say anything to her explanation yet because he isn't sure how he is supposed to answer. Here he was, thinking in some small part of his mind, that she wanted to impress him, that she wanted to be good actual friends or something more, when in fact she was just being a good host. She was just being a good host by preparing his actual favorite food with his actual least favorite one.

And he can't admit, won't admit, that she's done an actual good enough job of hiding the spinach against all that flavor. He can almost commend her for it, can almost make him want to ask the recipe for it.

Damn it.

"But you didn't have to make this specifically," he feels bad for even saying it, "especially when you've had to go to all that effort."

"No, it's…" she turns away ever so slightly, "I've always wanted to try making this kind of soup, anyway."

He isn't sure what to think of that, but he'll take it.

"Is it truly good?"

Truly? Well…

He takes a spoonful into his mouth, this time with a piece of spinach. And he sees her expression the whole time, knows it means that she's surprised, she's elated, she's absolutely glad.

"It's not bad."

Because he doesn't taste the spinach that much.

"Thank you."

And she looks at him so gratefully that he almost– No, he won't think that, but he'll think that she's such an unexpected character that he's actually looking forward to what she cooks next. It's a free meal, how can he say no to that?

"So you can tell Raidou you won, by the way."

He smirks.

She laughs.

He– No, he doesn't like this kind of laugh from her. He doesn't like this kind of… new thing with her. It's far too comfortable than he thinks is acceptable between them. But, and this is important, he is starting to like… her.

As a samurai, of course.

"But I understand your aversion, Shiranui-san," she nods, "when I was younger, I disliked my vegetables too. But then there was this recipe… would you like to try it?"

Was that an… invitation? Was she asking him if he'd like to eat her cooking again? Why did she have to say it that way? It's like she's not giving him a choice to say no. Can he say no?

"When I find the time to learn it, of course," she adds quickly, "I don't know how it's made, but I can tell you that it's good. If memory serves me right."

Right.

"Okay," he says, "but just try."

She smiles at him and echoes, "Just try."

He refuses to think she means anything else but the food.