Well... [ without a doubt, there's no way that such a light sword like tsurumaru could carry hijikata? how much does that fine ass even weigh? still, tsurumaru's exceedingly insistent about this, about the fact that he can (even though he cant, but he likes to dream). ] You know what they say about trying! If I carry you while no one's watching, does that still ruin your reputation, oh-so fearsome demon vice captain?
[ but the first sparks of the firecrackers catch his attention then, as they light up the dark; there's amazement reflected in his eyes, and he's slowly reaching for a small piece of rice cake set down on the plate, squishing it between his fingers before he takes a bite, then two, then five, until the cake in his hand is gone in under thirty seconds, leaving his fingertips faintly powdered. ]
You know, Hiji... [ a pause. ] Humans love that, don't they? Everything that happens in springtime: flowers blooming, the cherry blossom viewings. I think that... when humans love something so much, we grow to love it too, just as much. [ although he gives a gentle, irrepressible laugh afterwards, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and it's clear that he's found this amusing, and a bit heartwarming, as well. his gaze will still rest on the water's surface, trying to see what hijikata sees: a splendidly saturated landscape of the colors that light up the night sky; in a sense, it's truly something.
and naturally, when hijikata asks him to look up, tsurumaru looks towards the sky, because that's what any normal person would do. where else is up??? still, even he surprises himself with how he doesn't flinch at his touch, allowing his chin to be lifted, though he voices some initial confusion: ]
What are y—
[ he doesn't have time to finish his sentence, as he's cut off— it takes him a second or two for his mind to catch up; but once it does, he finds that he's far from being opposed to it, tilting his head to the side, fingers slowly reaching to grasp handfuls of black cloth and to pull him closer. (and maybe, just maybe, it's because of the dango, or something else altogether, but hijikata tastes sweet, dizzyingly sweet— it fills his lungs and his mind like fire, and he wouldn't mind breathing this in and out for the rest of his life—)
he's almost a bit disappointed when they break away, eyes slowly lifting, resting somewhere beneath hijikata's gaze, because even with the light of the fireworks, he's grateful that the night hides the way that his cheeks have probably turned ten shades darker. still, he rebounds quickly — and there's soon a playful smirk that rests across his expression, pressing two of his fingertips against his lips, because even as he asks, he already knows the answer, and it's not down the path that he's purposely leading hijikata. ]
My, my— do most masters kiss their swords like this?
UGH I TURNED INTO A CHEESE how dare you
[ but the first sparks of the firecrackers catch his attention then, as they light up the dark; there's amazement reflected in his eyes, and he's slowly reaching for a small piece of rice cake set down on the plate, squishing it between his fingers before he takes a bite, then two, then five, until the cake in his hand is gone in under thirty seconds, leaving his fingertips faintly powdered. ]
You know, Hiji... [ a pause. ] Humans love that, don't they? Everything that happens in springtime: flowers blooming, the cherry blossom viewings. I think that... when humans love something so much, we grow to love it too, just as much. [ although he gives a gentle, irrepressible laugh afterwards, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and it's clear that he's found this amusing, and a bit heartwarming, as well. his gaze will still rest on the water's surface, trying to see what hijikata sees: a splendidly saturated landscape of the colors that light up the night sky; in a sense, it's truly something.
and naturally, when hijikata asks him to look up, tsurumaru looks towards the sky, because that's what any normal person would do. where else is up??? still, even he surprises himself with how he doesn't flinch at his touch, allowing his chin to be lifted, though he voices some initial confusion: ]
What are y—
[ he doesn't have time to finish his sentence, as he's cut off— it takes him a second or two for his mind to catch up; but once it does, he finds that he's far from being opposed to it, tilting his head to the side, fingers slowly reaching to grasp handfuls of black cloth and to pull him closer. (and maybe, just maybe, it's because of the dango, or something else altogether, but hijikata tastes sweet, dizzyingly sweet— it fills his lungs and his mind like fire, and he wouldn't mind breathing this in and out for the rest of his life—)
he's almost a bit disappointed when they break away, eyes slowly lifting, resting somewhere beneath hijikata's gaze, because even with the light of the fireworks, he's grateful that the night hides the way that his cheeks have probably turned ten shades darker. still, he rebounds quickly — and there's soon a playful smirk that rests across his expression, pressing two of his fingertips against his lips, because even as he asks, he already knows the answer, and it's not down the path that he's purposely leading hijikata. ]
My, my— do most masters kiss their swords like this?