#i love his editing and earnestness and humor and all his silly words

[unohanadaydreams]

This was originally an ask I answered quite a while ago that I’ve gone back and edited. It went from 1k to 1.6k words so it’s been significantly reworked, so much so that if you’ve read it before, it’s enough of a new piece that you’ll hopefully enjoy reading it again! I’ve edited the original ask to reflect all changes, but believe me--it’s been through a transformation.

But, yeah, I’ve gotten quite a few asks for hurt/comfort Ukitake so this is an offering for all of you!! He only suffers a lil bit. <3

so close and yet so far from death [1.6k]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

“Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

[ohayohimawari]

And Everyone Else Knew It

A drabble for Day 5 of @kakaobiweek Blue | Safe | Mutual Pining

Brief mature humor, romance, and fluff. I hope that you enjoy reading it!

And Everyone Else Knew It

Kakashi combed his cowlicks with his fingers and tried to steady his heart as he hurried to meet with Obito.

It was part of the latter’s conditional release to have regular meetings with a member of Konoha’s security force. As Hokage, Kakashi was not only the top of the law and order food chain in the village, he was also the only one with authority to pardon anyone for war crimes. As such, the Council of Elders decided that he would be the one assigned to supervise Obito’s rehabilitation and integration back into society. But there was a problem with this arrangement.

Obito was hot, and Kakashi had it bad for him.

His attraction to his old teammate and hero set in almost the exact moment they were reunited on the battlefield during the Fourth Great Shinobi War. The shock over the fact that Obito was most certainly not dead lasted for a fraction of a second, replaced by the shock over the handsome man he’d become. Kakashi barely had an opportunity to make sense of his conflicted feelings before they fought in their Kamui dimension, where he wished they were exchanging blows of an entirely different variety.

But that would be impossible, even after the impossible became possible.

Just because Obito was alive didn’t mean he could return Kakashi’s feelings. Any daydream in which the Rokudaime might indulge quickly ended with the cold, hard fact that a man who would start an international war over a female was probably, most likely, definitely not into dudes.

Even though he wore a watch these days, Kakashi checked the sun’s position in the sky to determine the time. He quickened his pace when he realized he was running late. Running late was Obito’s schtick, and now that he was back, it seemed silly to Kakashi to mimic the habit. At least, that’s what he told himself to explain why he would always hurry to their meetings, not because he was excited to see him or anything.

The funny thing was, was that Obito wasn’t arriving late to their meetings, either.

Kakashi attributed Obito’s punctuality to his desire to make a good impression on his parole officer instead of desiring his parole officer. But what a delicious fantasy that was; it was one that Kakashi turned to often in private and one that he shook clear from his mind as he opened the door to the restaurant where they agreed to meet. They had important things to discuss this time.

Obito said he'd undergone many changes recently, so Kakashi suggested they'd meet in a more casual atmosphere than his office. That way, it could be more like two friends having a conversation instead of abiding by the guidelines of Obito’s punishment.

However, when Kakashi spied Obito waving to him from where he was already seated in a booth, the Rokudaime wondered if he’d set himself up for additional hurt by arranging what could feel more like a date to him than a meeting.

Kakashi nodded a curt greeting at the three remaining members of Team Ten, who enjoyed their weekly dinner together in the booth next to Obito before joining his unrequited crush.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m starving, so I already ordered for us,” Obito said as soon as Kakashi sat down.

“That’s fine,” Kakashi was too nervous to have an appetite, anyway. “So, you mentioned that a lot has happened since the last time we met,” he folded his hands in front of him on the table, “you should be moved into your new apartment by now.”

“I am,” Obito nodded.

“How do you like it?”

“I mean, it’s an apartment,” Obito looked down at his lap. “It’s small, but it’s bigger than my prison cell and comfier than a cave.”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully in response, quietly considering how Obito lived for so long in hiding and doing his best to ignore how his heart ached for the man.

“My neighbor is a kind woman,” Obito continued, briefly meeting Kakashi’s gaze. “She’s elderly; her eyesight isn’t great, and I don’t think she knows who I am,” he smirked sheepishly. “I help her carry her groceries up the stairs, and she brings a plate of whatever she bakes that day, which is really nice.”

This sent Kakashi’s aching heart into somersaults, and he figured he better say something while he still could talk. “Are you forming connections and friendships with others?”

“Yeah, y’know, Gai comes around with his student, Lee, and they invite me to train with them. They, uh,” Obito chuckled, “gave me a matching leotard, and I like sparring with them, but I don’t think green is my color,” he laughed. “It’s nice to feel included, though.”

“Gai is pretty great that way,” Kakashi agreed, thankful for his old friend and rival.

“Kurenai smiles and waves at me when I see her at the cemetery these days, so I hope that we’ll become closer over time.”

Kakashi nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and ignoring how his stomach tightened.

“I dunno, there’s only one person that I talk to a lot since I’ve come back, and that’s, well,” Obito mirrored Kakashi’s discomfort across the table, “I mean, everything about my life is complicated, but that’s really complicated.”

“How so?”

“Well, they’re pretty great,” Obito’s sheepish smile returned. 

Kakashi noted that when it seemed that everything else about his old teammate had changed, that expression remained the same. Then he realized that he was lost in thought, not listening as Obito continued to talk.

“...And they make me feel safe. Which, after everything I’ve been through, that’s pretty important.”

Kakashi kicked himself for not paying attention to Obito because whatever he said made him blush.

“Anyway, that’s hopeless,” Obito muttered.

“Why?” Kakashi asked.

“Well, I was kind of a jerk to them when I was a kid, and… and then I went and messed everything up.”

Kakashi leaned over the table closer to Obito to emphasize his earnestness. “People are learning that you were taken advantage of, Obito. Yes, you did terrible things, but you were manipulated when you were vulnerable. Then, you fought alongside the Allied Shinobi Forces when we needed it, and most importantly, you aren’t running from the repercussions of your actions. That’s why I could pardon you, and it’s why people are able and willing to forgive you.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Here’s your broiled saury,” a waitress interrupted, and Kakashi sat back in his seat so she could set his dinner down on the table in front of him.

Obito thanked her and assured her that they had everything they needed before leaving them alone at their table.

“This is my favorite,” Kakashi muttered.

“Yeah, I know,” Obito replied off-handed, reaching for his utensils.

As casual as it seemed to Obito, the gesture touched Kakashi. He swallowed down the dangerous beginnings of hope before it could take hold of his exhausted heart and sought to encourage Obito in all of his pursuits. “If I’ve learned anything from being Naruto’s teacher, it’s that nothing is ever truly hopeless.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Obito spoke through a mouthful of food, and it amazed Kakashi that he could find even that attractive.

“They’re popular, like, really popular, internationally popular,” Obito’s eyes bulged as he stressed the point. “They could seriously have just about anyone they wanted, and I can’t exactly compete with that,” he finished, clearly crestfallen. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

Kakashi was not a romantic man, and he knew it, and he also knew that he didn’t have a chance in hell with the man that sat across from him, no matter how much he yearned to reach out and reassure Obito that he was worth loving, and—

Kakashi chewed his dinner and choked on the word ‘love’ when it crossed his mind. He was in way deeper than he thought and decided that a change of subject was probably best. “You mentioned that you found a job,” he offered.

“Oh, yeah!” Obito perked up at the opportunity to share his good news. “I may not be a ninja anymore, but I’m still in pretty good shape.”

Really good shape, Kakashi thought.

“So, I was offered a modeling contract.”

Kakashi dropped his fork in his surprise, and it clattered on the table.

Obito laughed at him. “I know, it’s unexpected, but,” he chuckled again and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Looks like I’m going to be the next bad boy in Blue Boy.”

“Blue Boy?” Kakashi repeated, astonished. “The gay men’s lifestyle magazine?”

“You know it?” Obito asked, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were into— I-I, I mean, I’ve bought a few editions,” Kakashi felt his mouth go dry, “for the articles.” And if Obito would be featured in its photo spreads, he’d be buying a subscription.

“Right,” Obito drawled sarcastically, and Kakashi felt seen. “Anyway, to be honest, I was amazed too,” he fiddled with the straw in his drink, “I don’t exactly consider myself to be fashion model material.”

“You’re hot!” Kakashi was juggling too many surprises, and as a result, dropped his filter. Then he did his best to pick it up and put it back on when Obito’s eyes snapped to his face. “I mean, that’s hot, I mean, good for you,” he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him, or for an assassin to show up intent on taking him out, or—

“You think I’m hot?” Obito asked quietly, tenderly, longingly.

Kakashi licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak but closed it when everyone heard Shikamaru’s groan from the table next to them.

“Mendokusē! Would you two just kiss already?”

Both men sat in silence, staring at each other. Kakashi felt as flushed as Obito looked.

“Shikamaru’s right,” Choji agreed. “You two are worse than a one-hundred-thousand-word slow burn fanfic.”

“Oh, I love those!” Ino gasped.

“A what?” Kakashi asked.

“Who cares,” Obito answered, his eyes beginning to smolder in a way that Kakashi had only dreamed. “Let’s pay the bill and—”

“My place or yours?” Kakashi flagged down their waitress.

“How about ours?” Obito asked, his Sharingan eye already spinning.

[bmaxwell]

The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe

I’m a big fan of the late Terry Pratchett of Discworld fame. Underneath the silly stories about elves, a bumbling city watch force, a would-be wizzard, a trio of country witches and so much more, there is wisdom. And anger. Anger at a world that treats people as things, anger at a world that puts people in boxes, and anger at those who “think that serious is the opposite of funny.”

That last one stuck with me. Some of my favorite works manage to be funny while being rooted in decency and heart. It’s a tough needle to thread, and The Stanley Parable manages to do this in a rare way. To say it breaks the fourth wall would be a gross understatement. It’s a game about breaking the fourth wall. It is all the way up its own ass 100% of the time. It’s constantly huffing its own farts, then asking you how you feel about that, writing down your response, then laughing and throwing it away, then fishing it out of the garbage and crying because the writer doesn’t know how to make a great game and no one loves him, then writing that all into the game. 

Do you laugh? Cry? Get a little uncomfortable and wonder if the writer needs help, wonder whether they are actually, really happy or actually as tortured as this all seems to be? HA HA HA HA...?

If you played writer/developer Davey Wreden’s The Beginner’s Guide which you didn’t, you’ll know exactly what I mean. Mostly because if you’ve played The Beginner’s Guide then you’ve definitely played The Stanley Parable. TBG is a gut punch of an experience, about fraud complex and the torture that some creative types go through. 

The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe gets into this same territory. There are screenshots of actual, real negative reviews from Steam planted in the game. The narrator talks about trying to reach those people and make them happy too, but it’s impossible. Those negative views of his game reinforce the nagging voice inside that says “You can’t do this, you somehow tricked people into liking your last game but now they’re onto you, and your fraud will be exposed to the world.” Every compliment is out of pity, every criticism is deserved and justified. This is relatable to me. 

Look I made a thing, but I don’t want approval but please pay attention to me even though I don’t care about that, and I know that praise is all just pity, and silence is indifference or disgust. Please look at the thing I made and don’t compliment me, criticize me, or ignore me. Please?

I’ve managed to ramble on quite a bit about the game without actually describing it in any way. Well done, me. It’s a game about an office worker drone suddenly finding himself alone in the office, and a funny British narrator describing his every action. And every inaction. Someone took BioShock’s Would you kindly? and made a game out of it. It’s a raw, overshared earnestness thrown in a blender with funny writing.

And it is smart, and incredibly funny. I’ve largely misrepresented the game here as I’ve been playing the new content in The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe Edition™. There’s a lot of self doubt and conflicted feelings front and center in the writing. Even when it’s uncomfortable and sad, it’s still got a satchel full of dark humor slung over its shoulder. 

Comedy is hard to pull off in gaming, and The Stanley Parable does it better than any game I’ve ever played, and it isn’t close. If I’m being vague, it’s because the humor works in the context of the game in a way that typing it out would do a disservice to. WORDS. The narrator is constantly, uh, narrating. You enter a room with 2 doors in front of you and the narrator immediately says “Stanley walked through the door on the left” and you can do that, or not. You can linger in a supply closet for far longer than any human ever should, just to hear the narrator get increasingly exasperated with you. 

It subverts your expectations over and over again. It also has some great achievements, for those of you who celebrate:

It’s a unique experience, one that wouldn’t work in any other medium. Those are few and far between. 

[unohanadaydreams]

Happy birthday @tuliharja​! Last night I was deciding whether to answer thirst posts, hovered over yours, and saw today’s date for you b-day in your bio. I guess consider it payback for tagging me in that post, that one time haha?

May this humble offering of hurt/comfort be sufficient. I wrote and edited it all today so if my not-so-fresh eyes missed mistakes pls forgive me lmao.

so close and yet so far from death [1k+ words]

Jushiro Ukitake:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

 “Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.