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Genya tunes out at some point after the bit about Kanroji’s cats. Or maybe it was the part about her five siblings? He honestly isn’t sure. This conversation—or rather, monologue—has been going on for so long that he’s starting to feel like he knows more about Kanroji than he does about himself.
She had just shown up—saw them sitting together, complimented their food, then pulled out her own lunch and started eating. And talking. And talking. And talking.
Genya tries to keep up, he really does, but the way she jumps from topic to topic makes it impossible to focus. He barely registers anything, just nodding occasionally when there’s a pause that feels like she’s waiting for a response.
At least he’s trying. Muichiro, on the other hand, isn’t even pretending to listen.
Genya glances at him. His lover sits completely still, gaze blank as he stares somewhere past Kanroji’s shoulder. He hasn’t acknowledged a single thing she’s said, hasn’t so much as nodded. But Kanroji doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
She just keeps going.
Genya doesn’t know how she’s managed to put away six plates of rice balls while keeping up this endless chatter, but eventually, she claps her hands together.
“I’m gonna go check on my sword now! Thank you both for your company!”
Genya just nods, still somewhat dazed.
Muichiro doesn’t even do that.
Kanroji beams regardless, practically skipping out the door, and the second she’s gone, Genya exhales, slumping slightly.
“Well,” he mutters, “That was—”
He turns to Muichiro—only to find him already staring.
Genya blinks. “Uh—?”
Muichiro’s gaze is oddly intense, something unreadable in the way his pale blue eyes settle on him.
Before Genya can question it, Muichiro speaks. “I like Kanroji’s hair.”
Genya hums, caught off guard. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. It’s pretty.”
Muichiro stares at him for another beat, and Genya thinks that’s the end of it. It isn’t.
“I want my hair like hers.”
Genya blinks.
Muichiro’s face is as blank as ever, completely unbothered, completely serious. Genya isn’t sure why he does it, isn’t sure what possesses him, but before he even thinks it through, the words are already slipping out.
“I could braid it for you.”
For the first time, Muichiro’s expression shifts. Just slightly—his brows furrowing the tiniest fraction. “You know how to braid?”
Genya shrugs, his face heating up just a little. “Used to do it for my sister.”
Muichiro watches him for a moment, something flickering behind his gaze. Then, after what feels like a full minute of consideration, he nods.
“Alright.”
Genya stares at Muichiro for a second, processing. He hadn’t really expected him to agree. He had just offered without thinking. But now Muichiro is sitting there, completely still, completely serious, just waiting.
Genya swallows. “Uh…okay.”
His hands feel slightly clammy as he shifts behind Muichiro, settling into place. His hair is soft when Genya runs his fingers through it, fine strands slipping easily between his hands.
He gathers the sections at the nape of Muichiro’s neck, his fingers moving automatically, muscle memory kicking in. He hasn’t done this in years, not since he used to braid his sister’s hair, but the motions come back easily.
Genya swallows hard, forcing himself to focus as he begins weaving the strands together. He works carefully, making sure it’s even, pulling just enough to keep it tight but not enough to hurt. Muichiro doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even flinch, just sits there as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
A few moments pass in comfortable silence before Muichiro speaks.
“You’re good at this.”
Genya huffs, his fingers moving automatically. “Told you I used to do this for my sister.”
Muichiro hums, and Genya can feel his quiet approval. It does something to him, something that makes his ears burn, but he shoves it down, focusing on the braid instead of the warmth crawling up his neck.
He finishes the first section quickly, tying it off with a spare hairband. Then, without thinking, he moves onto the other side, starting the second braid.
Muichiro lets him.
It’s…nice.
The soft weight of Muichiro’s hair in his hands, the quiet sound of their breathing, the way Muichiro tilts his head just slightly whenever Genya needs a better angle—it all feels so natural, so easy.
When he ties off the second braid, he pauses, his hands hovering for a moment before he reaches for the last section of hair.
Muichiro tilts his head slightly. “There’s another?”
“Yeah.” Genya clears his throat, forcing his voice to stay even. “Kanroji-sama has three, right?”
Muichiro hums again, an acknowledgment rather than an agreement, but he doesn’t argue. Just stays still, letting Genya work.
Genya gathers the final section, his fingers moving slower this time. It’s the last one, the last part of this unexpected, quiet moment, and for some reason, he feels almost reluctant to finish. But he does, securing the third braid with a final, small knot before sitting back slightly, inspecting his work.
“There.”
Muichiro reaches up, fingers brushing over the woven strands.
He blinks. “It looks nice.”
Genya huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Told you I knew what I was doing.”
Muichiro turns to him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with no warning, he leans in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to Genya’s cheek before pulling back like nothing happened.
Genya short-circuits.
His whole body locks up, his mind blanking entirely. He must make some kind of noise—something embarrassing—because Muichiro tilts his head, blinking at him like he doesn’t understand why Genya suddenly looks like he’s about to die.
Genya stares.
Muichiro stares back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips.
“I like it.”
Genya is never going to recover from this.