#THE REOCCURRING FACE CARESS IS SOMETHING THAT CAN BE SO SPECIAL. SCREAMS AND BLOWS UP

[luxsea]

to the hells and back babey! ♡

[ikesenhell]

Shapes

This is Chapter 5 of I See Starlight. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR TO HONOR AND PROTECT. If you have not read it, please go back and do so before proceeding. THIS WAS A LIVEWRITE! … at literally three-four in the morning. A very special shout out to the trio that hung out and line edited my work: @velociraptor-detective, Brie, and @stardust-and-ashes​

Mitsuhide often forgot that he couldn’t open his eyes anymore. Masamune told him this might happen. In the first few moments of bleary consciousness, his first instinct was to try and crack those eyelids apart from his cheek and the jolt of pain as he rediscovered the fused skin. That woke him up pretty well.

But this morning was unique. A rumble of something against his chest roused him first, and then came the familiar ritual with his eyes. What the devil was that? He stroked his fingertips gently downward and explored the topography of this strange new land. There was the softened ridge of her shoulder. He felt the cool drape of her hair in his fingertips, working his knuckles through it, following the river over the valley of her waist. And there--there was the offending rumble. Hideyoshi emitted a soft snore again, rolling his head to the side. Mitsuhide nearly laughed. Instead he just cupped his hand around the man’s cheek and felt the sound with his own hands. It vibrated off his skin and up his arm.

And the weight was… comfortable. When was the last time he woke up with someone else, let alone two? The question took him back far enough that he stopped trying to remember and settled instead for nuzzling his mouth down into the cold silk of her scalp, resigning himself to the melody of breath and the calming cry of sea birds outside the window.

Mitsuhide was well acquainted with his own feelings. He’d been alone with them often enough to really dig in, to crush them and use them and manipulate them to his whims. In the fragile stillness of the morning, he allowed himself to really feel them. No one was awake to watch the run of thoughts on his face. Pensive and uncertain, he walked his fingertips featherlight down the length of her arm and Hideyoshi’s neck, relishing the weight of them on his ribs despite himself.

They deserved more than this. Didn’t they? He was only half-surprised at lumping Hideyoshi in with that particular train of thought. In retrospect it wasn’t that unexpected. Not that he’d spent much time courting the company of men, exactly, but he’d never shunned the advance either. Either one suited his purposes from time to time.

But he wasn’t using them--not for services he couldn’t get elsewhere, at least--and that part had him thinking more than anything.

Hideyoshi snored again, jolting him from his thoughts. That time he did laugh. His chest jostled her enough that she stirred in his arms, rolling against him and settling her mouth against the curve of his arm.

“Mitsuhide?” She murmured sleepily, and he wondered if he’d ever heard anything better in his life. He found the curve of her cheek with his thumb and worked his hand over her face, memorizing every curve and line. Her nose had a slight ridge, only upturned the tiniest bit at the end. Her mouth was full and small (which was a trend on her in general, it seemed), her jaw soft. Without prompting, she planted a kiss into his palm and his heart surged so hard it caught his breath in the crossfire.

“Hush, little mouse,” he managed. “Comfortable?”

“Mhmmm.”

Now Hideyoshi grunted awake. His awakening was far less graceful. A snort; the familiar inhale of someone who wasn’t quite sure where he was and a long stretch. Mitsuhide imagined he’d been sleeping in that distinct Hideyoshi way: arms crossed tight over his chest, head rocked back as if he were still the bandit sleeping against a tree. “Huh?”

“You hush too,” Mitsuhide snickered, his laugh jostling her head once more. Apparently that felt funny, because she giggled too. “You’re warming my legs nicely down there.”

“Hng.” Hideyoshi grunted and made to move, but Mitsuhide worked a languid hand through the other man’s hair and he stilled again, dropping his head back onto her waist. “That’s not fair. I’ve got PT.”

“Kenshin can come and get you himself. I’m quite content being here. As for fairness, I didn’t even realize you had a thing about your hair, my friend.”

Heat radiated clear up through Hideyoshi’s scalp and Mitsuhide tried not to laugh again, utterly failing. She twisted and tried to bury her smile into the cushions, but now it caught to Hideyoshi, the familiar puff of breath he always released when grinning despite himself floating in the air. “And you’ve got a thing for people laying on you. I guess fair is fair.”

“Do I? Do I have a thing?”

“I don’t know, Mitsuhide, you’ve got two people putting your legs to sleep, no doubt.”

But the three of them lay there a long while yet, stretching in turns and waking with gentle slowness. Mitsuhide wrapped one arm over her hip and the free hand through Hideyoshi’s hair, wondering if it was half bad that he only had the touch of them to luxuriate in.

---

The three of them walked the cobblestone streets to the library. Hideyoshi carried the braille machine in his arms, its weight barely anything to him--especially with all the wild thoughts circling his mind.

What did last night mean? What did all that fond caressing mean? Was that just Mitsuhide being classic Mitsuhide, or was that something genuine? Had he overstepped his bounds with the half-awake Princess, or was she as unphased by it as she seemed? She blushed easier now. Was that good or bad? Was this going to be a reoccurring thing, or had it been a one off? If it was--

“Hideyoshi?”

He blinked at the hand in his face. She peered intently at him, her head cocked. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m just fine. Did you need something?”

“I asked if it was heavy. I can carry it a little.”

“Heavy?” He repeated, realizing he sounded less like a person and more like a parrot. “Oh, no, it’s not really heavy at all. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of making you carry it.”

Mitsunari was alone in the library today. He glanced up at the trio as they entered, a sweet smile on his face. “Hello!”

“Where are the glasses?” Hideyoshi asked, realizing all at once that the silver-haired man wasn’t wearing them. “Does the ocean suddenly have perfect vision?”

“Apparently!” Mitsunari grinned so wide that it made his eyes crinkle into little crescent moons. “I wouldn’t have guessed it myself. Maybe it’s less about being the ocean and more about coming back, but I don’t have any particular evidence either way.”

“See, this is why this whole ‘magic’ business completely throws me.”

Mitsuhide snickered and set his staff on the table, scooting it on his own toward the shelving for space. Hideyoshi almost went to help, but a gentle eyebrow raise from the Bookkeeper stilled him. The crash he feared never came; instead, Mitsuhide stopped just short of a collision, clapping his hands matter-of-factly. “Shall we?” “We shall!” Mitsunari flipped open a book, searching through the pages until he found something in particular. “And in fact, I think you’ll like what I’ve got in store today.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“Would you mind terribly if I didn’t tell you until after?”

Hideyoshi wondered for a long moment if he ought to press the issue, but Mitsuhide just shrugged. “I’m in your hands.”

“Aren’t you too tall for that?” The Bookkeeper quipped, realizing a second too late what she’d said. Her whole face turned a bright pink, but Mitsuhide laughed out loud.

“Such as it is. Shall we?” ---

Truthfully, he was a little anxious at not knowing exactly what he was doing. The bones of it felt the same: feeling his will inch through his body, taking charge of each muscle, the center of him surging like the glow of a lightning storm. Mitsunari guided him expertly through a world he didn’t quite understand with his words alone. All the sound of the library fell away, the familiar footing of ground lost to him.

It felt like infinity.

He’d been blind before, but it was so much worse now. Never before had he been so unseated. The urge to scream welled up in his throat, to reach out, to take something solid to moor him in this alien world. He wanted a hand. Desperate for a measure of comfort, Mitsuhide dug into the well of his memory and conjured the weight of her head on his ribs, Hideyoshi’s body draped over his legs, the ghost of a breeze over his face, the swell of his heart--

And then it was all over. Mitsuhide felt the floor beneath him again and he staggered, dropping to his knees and heaving. He felt Hideyoshi and her run to him--

Wait.

“Hold.” Mitsuhide waved his hand and they both stopped only feet from him. How did he know that? Curious and calm again, he reached out with his mind and groped along the floor, the table, the books in neat ridges along the shelving--

“I know where things are,” he gasped. “I know where everything is.”

“Uh…” Hideyoshi paused, then lifted his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four. Your left hand, specifically.”

A pause. Mitsunari knelt by his side and pat his back. “Are you alright? I know that couldn’t be pleasant--”

“Great.” Mitsuhide croaked, fastening that smile on his mouth. “I know where everything is. I’m bloody fantastic.”

“I’m behind you,” Hideyoshi muttered. “How did you know how many fingers? Can you physically see?”

“No.” He struggled to his feet and brushed himself off. “Hideyoshi, draw your sword.”

“What!?”

Mitsuhide reached to the side and stole Mitsunari’s with a long shnnk, raising it to a battle-ready stance. “I’m serious.”

“You’re--I--Mitsuhide.”

“If you don’t draw it, then this’ll hurt.”

The Bookkeeper gasped and dashed back against the table. Hideyoshi barely managed to parry the blow, the crash of steel on steel ringing through the library. Mitsuhide laughed with reckless abandon.

“I saw that,” he managed, “I saw that!”

Hideyoshi dropped his sword and closed the gap, wrapping him in a tight hug. Mitsuhide accepted it and they stood there a long while, rocking back and forth in the middle of the library, and for the first time in an eternity, Mitsuhide wondered if he might cry.

---

Kenshin put him through his paces with such gusto that Hideyoshi nearly ate his lip off with anxiety. Mitsuhide had never been their most stellar swordsman (though Mitsunari was always worse, despite their best efforts), but even with months off practice, he held his own. Every swipe, swing, thrust and riposte he anticipated, meeting the onslaught with a passable defense.

“You won’t die,” Kenshin pronounced at last. “Which is improved.”

Mitsuhide’s familiar smirk was a glory to behold. “Generous as always with your compliments.”

Masamune snorted. “Well, fuck. Hit me up with some of this magic bullshit.”

Yuki scowled. “I still don’t like it. Are there drawbacks?”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Mitsuhide twirled the sword experimentally in his hands. “Mitsunari expects I’ll have terrific migraines from time to time, but we will have to see in the long run.”

“Is it reversible?”

“That I can’t say. For now, it works. That’s all I’m concerned with. I am the test subject, after all.”

Hideyoshi almost missed helping Mitsuhide navigate the world. It was bewildering to see him walk blind through the kitchen as easily as could be. There was plenty he still couldn’t do--anything flat still threw him through a loop. He was as reliant on his braille as ever.

“I can see the shape of things, not the texture or color or what have you. Even that is a little fuzzy. I have to focus.” Mitsuhide stretched in the library, playing his hand experimentally over the bookshelf a bit at a time. “And I still won’t be able to shoot. I can’t ‘see’ but a certain distance out.”

The Bookkeeper smoothed her satin skirts, settled in her desk chair. “And these… these migraines. How often do you think they’ll happen? How bad will they be? That would be a real drawback in a serious situation.”

“I’ve worked through some very severe circumstances before.” Easily as could be, Mitsuhide caught a chair under the lip and dragged it up beside hers to sit. “I can’t imagine a migraine that would put me out of commission so readily.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

Mitsuhide grinned and teased his fingers under her chin. “Little Mouse, you don’t need to worry about me so much. You’ll start getting Hideyoshi’s eyebrow wrinkle.”

All at once, Hideyoshi realized he was wearing that exact expression. “I mean, you can’t blame us for being interested in your well being.”

Apparently their Kitsune had nothing to say to that. He just paused, cocking his head ever so slightly. “We shall see, won’t we?”

Despite Mitsuhide’s confidence, Hideyoshi still settled into the library with them. He wasn’t as invested in reading as the other man, so he watched the Bookkeeper and learned his way around her blueprints, slowly getting the hang of the drafts and measurements. Afternoon passed into night. Content with her progress on the braille machine’s final draft, she settled onto the couch beside Mitsuhide with a book, and Hideyoshi decided to occupy himself with cleaning his sword.

“So,” Mitsuhide asked at last, his low voice soft in the library. “I’m assuming we’re not all going to form a puddle again tonight?”

Silence reigned again. Hideyoshi and the Bookkeeper exchanged glances, a creeping blush overtaking both of them.

“I mean,” she started.

“Well--”

They both fell quiet and tried again at the same time.

“I didn’t--”

“If you were suggesting--”

Mitsuhide grinned like the devil and the Bookkeeper dipped her face into her hands, too embarrassed to continue. He teased a hand through her hair. “I’m only asking because I was rather fond of the setup.”

“I--” She took a deep breath and blurted out the rest of her sentence as one run-on. “I’m very self conscious because I think I like both of you and I don’t know what to do about that and it makes me think there is something wrong with me.”

Well, there it was. Hideyoshi wondered if saying nothing or everything was safer. Throat dry as the desert, he looked at Mitsuhide and imagined what it would be like to admit it.

“Let’s say I feel much the same about that sentiment,” Mitsuhide crooned. Hideyoshi waited for his face to light on fire (which it didn’t, and he frankly wasn’t sure if the distraction might have saved him). “If that were the case, Hideyoshi, then might you be on board?”

“Yes,” he managed. “Yeah. Probably.”

And that curling smile emerged. “Then let’s figure the rest out later. For tonight, I’m content just to have a few accomplices in a good night’s sleep.”

---

Mitsuhide woke in what he assumed to be the middle of the night. No birds disturbed the sweet ocean air. The icy chill of the northern wind struck to the core of him, but her head on his shoulder and Hideyoshi on his other warmed him enough. If it were a dream, it was good enough for now.

Silent and gentle, he worked his thumb over Hideyoshi’s cheek. The other man roused ever so slightly.

“Mitsuhide?” He croaked. “You need something?”

“No. I was just awake.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything? You feel a little cold.”

A surge of affection took hold of him. He tapped a hand under Hideyoshi’s chin and guided him forward, half-expecting a fight or protest. None came. Instead he felt the warmth of lips against his, a brush of breath over his chin, the staccato shock of a man in the middle of a kiss and unsure what else to do aside from enjoy it.

“Nothing,” Mitsuhide murmured. “Nothing else.”

She stirred on his other shoulder. Obligingly, Mitsuhide combed a hand over her head and she tilted her face back. The same desire swelled inside him, and he planted a kiss on her forehead, nose, and mouth. She hummed against him and it felt so sweet that he caught the edge of her lip between his teeth, relishing the shiver of her spine.

“That was nice to wake to,” she sighed, settling back down on his chest.

“And nice to go back to sleep to.” Mitsuhide lay his head back against the pillow. “So back to sleep. Both of you. Tomorrow is another day.”