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When he spotted his reflection on the surface of the water, it made him step back, nearly stumbling on the bank. The sharp lines of his brow and jaw look familiar, but uncanny. He doesn’t resemble himself, not really. He doesn’t know what he looks like outside the context of the face that came before his. All he can see is the cruelty and pain and evil incarnate that has haunted him all his life. The hurt of every scar that still aches as he remembers it all.
Kyojuro tilted his head in Tengen’s direction, probably thinking he misheard something Tengen didn’t actually say. “Huh?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Tengen pressed the heels of his hand to his eye, trying to expel the image from his mind. “I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing!” Kyojuro pressed himself to Tengen’s side, kissing his jaw.
“I just— every year, every time I see my face, I look more and more like him,” Tengen whispered, daring himself to look out at the water again. “It terrifies me.”
“Well I don’t— I don’t know what he looks like,” Kyojuro said gently. “But all I see is you. And I love you.”
“He looks like this.” Tengen said, waving his hand around his face. He saw the brief worry in Kyojuro’s eyes, the one that reminded Tengen that when he was younger, he’d say it to Shinjuro and he wouldn’t say it back. “And I love you too. Always.”
He smiled at that, squeezing tighter around Tengen’s torso. “Thank you. I know it doesn’t feel like it to you, but you’re the furthest thing from him. I promise. I know it’s not the same at all, but I don’t really like having my dad’s face either.”
Tengen nodded in agreement. He knew the resemblance couldn’t have always been easy for him, but Shinjuro was different. Complex and short-tempered and the farthest thing from perfect, but Tengen loved him like he was his own father. He saw how he’d turned himself around for his kids, and maybe it had taken a particularly bad night that involved Tengen screaming at him for more than a couple hours, but it happened.
He’d made Kyo leave with Senjuro so they wouldn’t hear what he said. And he wasn’t a monster, he gave the guy water and held his hair back while he puked, but there was no way he wasn’t going to lay into him when he had the chance. Tell him he had two perfect kids that had managed to raise themselves, and take care of his sorry ass, and that he was a dick if he couldn’t find it in himself to be proud of them. Asked him what kind of human trash rejects his kids at every turn, belittles and insults two people that are so fucking easy to love. How the person he loves more than anything in this stupid, fucked- up world had been hurt by him over and over. That if Tengen was his kid he would’ve gotten tired of this bullshit years ago, how goddamn lucky he is those motherfuckers still love him. That the very least he could do was love them back. That they were his kids, he put them here, born with the purpose of adding another rung to a ladder of Rengokus born to die for the cause, and doesn’t he think he owes them something?
Maybe some of it would’ve been better suited for his own father, but Tengen would never pass up his opportunity to yell at a shitty dad, even if it wasn’t his own. And something he said that night must have gotten through to him, because he never drank again, not even when he was sick with withdrawal for days and Tengen offered him a sip of something just to stave off the shakes. He figured he’d keep it around in case the guy started dying, but he never did. Kyojuro came back a day into the detox, his face more removed than Tengen had ever seen it as he went through the motions of taking care of him. Detached from everything but the task at hand, unable to meet Tengen’s eyes, mentally gone to preserve the parts of him that hadn’t already been worn down over the years. And when they were alone, Shinjuro promised Tengen he’d never put Kyo through this again. You better mean it, old man, Tengen had said, and he did. When they got Senjuro back from Tanjiro after a week and a half, it was like he’d stepped into another universe. The house was clean top to bottom, mostly due to Kyojuro’s efforts, and his father was sober for the first time he could remember. Seeing the way the kid realized immediately, how he looked up at Tengen and Kyojuro like they’d done some act of magic. How he hid behind Kyojuro when his father approached him.
It took them both a long time to trust him, to figure out what their relationship looked like now. But everything had been settled for years, and they were as close as they’d been when he was a little kid. When Kyojuro and Senjuro told him he loved him, he always said it back, might even say it first on a good day.
Tengen was, truthfully, more than a little envious. He was grateful for Shinjuro, someone who understood his darkness and cynicism more than Kyo did. Who treated him like his own. Who just nodded and apologized when Tengen screamed the worst things he could think of in his face. But he couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t fair, like a petulant little kid. That he deserved to get this chance, to see his father through adult eyes and come to some sort of understanding.
Kyojuro jumped to his feet, though the process was far from quick, shifting to kneel at the right angle and grabbing Tengen’s arm to help him up. He’d long gotten used to it, focusing massages on his lower back and letting Kyojuro hold him to support his shuffling walk when he didn’t have his cane.
They walked back home together, not bothering to go faster than the leisurely pace Kyo was comfortable with. Tengen reached his hand down and found Kyojuro’s, latching on. When they stepped into the engawa, he pressed Kyojuro into the wall and kissed him, looping an arm around his back to support him.
He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat before kissing Tengen back. It wasn’t his fault that Kyo never stopped being hot a day in his life. He never tried to be, which made Tengen find him infinitely hotter. And despite the years he had hardly seemed to age, the weight he’d put on that stuck to his round face seemed to keep him looking perpetually young. He was softer all over now, thick arms and thighs and places for Tengen to dig his fingers into, layered with muscle underneath it all, warm and gentle and full of life no matter how many years passed.
Tengen was well aware of the dark circles stamped under his own eyes, every wrinkle settling in his brow. The hollow set of his cheeks and the erasure of his former jawline. Some part of him knew that to inspect his body and only be able to call it withered was likely a bit of an overstatement, but that was not his concern. He looked weak, his limbs turned long and bony, the gold arm cuffs he once wore pushed into a box that he’d buried in the back of a cabinet when he saw how they’d never fit again. The wrong angles showed his hip bones and ribs, his legs knobby and gangly, bile rising in his throat at the sight of a frame he couldn’t recognize.
Kyojuro’s knees buckled under him as he kissed back, giggling as Tengen caught him around the waist. “Woah there.”
“Easy, I’ve got you.” Tengen whispered against his neck, tightening his grip to keep them both standing.
There was little he loved more than how Kyojuro didn’t bother finding his footing in his arms, let his heels bump the wall where Tengen held him. Gave those moments to him, where he could be demanding and hungry and get trust in return. Kyojuro’s mouth was hot and sweet and every sound was one of uninhibited want, freely handing himself over.
Tengen guided him to the edge of the bed, felt him laughing against his chest as the back of his knees hit the edge. Kyojuro always laughed during sex, especially whenever Tengen was trying to be serious about it. He stifled his giggles in the front of Tengen’s kimono as he kissed behind his ear, said he loved him against the shell of it so he was sure he could hear him. When he fell backwards he made sure to take Tengen down with him, nose buried in his hair, every chuckle just fanning the flames between them. When they were younger, still confused and experimenting, touching skin they didn’t know yet, Kyojuro’s hands were so hot they burned, etching his touch into Tengen’s back. Kyojuro’s fingertips can still find footholds there, palms balanced on his waist. Of the array of scars that decorated his skin (which has taken on a horrifyingly leathery quality in past years), the ones Kyojuro gave him would always be his favorites.
He let those same warm hands guide him, pressed to his side and directing his back down into the mattress. His hands opened Tengen’s kimono, filtering over his chest like it was the first time he’d seen it all over again. Tengen was already breathless as Kyojuro’s legs settled on either side of him, weight resting against his hips.
“Hah.” Kyojuro chuckled, fingers pinching around Tengen’s nipples. He’d always gotten a kick out of touching Tengen here, admiring how soft he felt as Tengen fell apart under him, oversensitive and twitching.
“Oh, fuck, Kyo,” Tengen moaned, his body jerking involuntarily as his nerves frayed. “You always have to do this to me.”
“I just love watching you like this.” Kyojuro hummed, Tengen propping him up by the backs of his thighs as he unwrapped his fundoshi and let his kimono slip off his shoulders, watching patiently even as Kyojuro’s arms struggled to reach across his body and he leaned more and more against Tengen’s arms to support his weight. He was utterly breathtaking, graceful no matter how much mobility he’d lost, every second it took him was just longer for Tengen to watch.
When Tengen lowered Kyojuro onto his hips, his cunt was hot and wet against him, the sensation making his mouth water. He rocked slowly, smile playing on his lips as Tengen’s hand sunk into his hip. The whole world shrunk down to just the two of them, the heat growing between their bodies and the fire in Kyojuro’s grin.
Kyojuro didn’t need to ask when he wanted to ride him, not with anything more than Tengen’s name moaned desperately, a persistent rhythm of his ass against Tengen’s erection. Kyojuro slid onto his cock slow and steady, voice low as he sunk down, vibrating in Tengen’s hold against his sides.
“Wow,” Kyojuro sighed contentedly as he was filled. “I really love you so much.”
Tengen took a deep breath in through his teeth, adjusting to where Kyojuro sat on his cock. “Love you too.”
“May I?” Kyojuro asked, taking hold of Tengen’s left arm. Tengen didn’t use it for much during sex, and it often just hung uselessly next to him while he tried to pretend it didn’t exist.
When he nodded, Kyojuro pulled it in close, encouraging Tengen to touch his thigh, wide eyes blinking curiously. “I have wondered, occasionally, what this might feel like.”
“Never knew you were a secret pervert, Kyo,” Tengen laughed, but the warm, wet pressure against his arm as Kyojuro guided him to his clit was surprisingly pleasurable in its unfamiliarity. “You little weirdo.”
“You’re the freak between the two of us and you know that. I’d be happy to have totally vanilla sex like twice a month forever.” Kyojuro flicked his forehead with his finger, but when Tengen pressed his wrist just right he bit back a moan.
“That feels good, Ten,” Kyojuro sighed, his voice high and breathless, rocking his hips against Tengen. “So good.”
Tengen shifted to angle his arm just right, Kyojuro grinding against it in frantic, shuddering motions like his body was moving all on its own, blindly seeking pleasure.
“Mhm, fuck, ‘m gonna come,” Kyojuro whimpered, a high, desperate sound as he came undone against Tengen’s arm and around his cock, so tight and hot he can hardly stand it.
He just barely managed to catch himself on Tengen’s shoulder, shuddering for what felt like ten minutes. When he finally managed to wrench his eyes open, the look he gave Tengen was still full of unbridled lust.
“Good?” Tengen asked. He’d like to think he wasn’t quietly begging for approval, but that would be a lie.
“Amazing.” Kyojuro sighed, taking his thumb and running it along the end of Tengen’s arm, picking up the slick off his skin. “Didn’t think you would feel so good like that. Now I wish I’d tried it earlier.”
There were many things it had taken them years to discover about each other, the way Kyojuro’s tongue and fingers against his hole made him scream with pleasure or the wetness that gushed out of Kyo when Tengen pinched the softness below his belly button and bit at the flesh of his thighs. This was yet another thing to add to the list, and Tengen would be lying if he said the tender touch against a part of him he so often disregarded wasn’t comforting. With Kyojuro, arousal and solace and warmth and acceptance all came jumbled into one beautiful thing.
“Your turn?” Kyojuro asked, already circling his hips, grinding down on Tengen’s cock again.
“Mhm, Kyo,” Tengen moaned, his head lolling backwards against the mattress as the knot in his insides tightened.
“So beautiful like this.” Kyojuro said softly, leaning over to trace the scar that spanned the side of his face. “So good for me.”
Tengen could feel his face getting hot with even just that little bit of praise. He wasn’t sure he could take it today, and that’s how he knew Kyojuro wouldn’t stop giving it to him.
“There’s my good boy, can I hear you say it?” Kyojuro asked.
“I can’t,” Tengen whimpered. Part of him wanted to safeword it all away, tell Kyojuro he couldn’t handle it, but all he could think about was how overwhelmingly sad it would be if one of the only times he had to use it was for this. To get out of saying even two nice words about himself. He shouldn’t have to. He might anyway.
Kyojuro stopped moving and rested his hands against Tengen’s shoulders, taking exaggerated deep breaths and guiding him through it. “Just breathe, love. You’re doing great.”
He tried his best to get the words out through the knot in his throat and the tears falling down the sides of his face, voice small and raspy. “I’m good.”
Kyojuro’s smile was like pure sunshine. “There you go, I’m so proud of you.” He leaned forward to kiss Tengen’s cheek. “My good boy. Are you okay?”
“It’s hard,” Tengen admitted softly, feeling his cheeks redden.
“I know it is baby, but you can do it,” Kyojuro shifted gently on top of Tengen. “Can we keep going?”
Tengen sighed softly, trying to compose himself. Kyojuro was just getting started and he was already running out of tears to cry.
“You deserve to be treated with kindness. You are worthy of being loved just as you are,” Kyojuro said easily, fingers rubbing behind Tengen’s ear. “C’mon love, you can do it.”
Tengen tried to cover his face, but Kyojuro pried his forearm away from his eye. “I deserve to be treated with kindness.”
“There you go,” Kyojuro cooed, rocking back and forth on top of Tengen until the friction had him moaning. “Even on the bad days. Especially on the bad days.”
He couldn’t help the way his shoulders shook as he choked out a sob. Today was far from a perfect day for him and for some reason Kyojuro loved him anyway. Loved him when he woke up with nightmares and burnt dinner and broke the teapot.
“You can do this,” Kyojuro encouraged, even as his fingertips against Tengen’s nipple made him moan. “You are not him.”
“I’m not him.” Tengen choked. It didn’t feel like his voice saying it.
“You’re a good person.”
Tengen doesn’t want to repeat it, isn’t sure how he can force those words past his lips. But Kyojuro is smiling at him, that familiar, bright light like there’s no doubt in his mind that Tengen can do this. That what he’s saying is actually true.
“I’m a good person.”
Kyojuro clenched and squeezed against his cock with everything he had. “I’m so proud of you.”
For a solitary, blissful minute, they existed together in a place outside of space, outside of time. The battles that had taken their bodies and their health both hadn’t happened yet and were already won. Every mark of permanent damage, the loss of eyes and hands and balance not forgotten, but accepted. A truth of their lives together rather than a riptide to fight against. All the wrinkles and creaks of age blended seamlessly with the scars and violent blows of youth. It all brought him here, built out of the ashes of all the thousands of bad days before, and a million miles away from it all at once.
Tengen lets the wave take him from his body, savors it like the taste of Kyojuro’s lips still lingering on his tongue. Hears the high, pleased whine of Kyojuro being filled.
It feels like it’s been hours when he blinks back to consciousness, but it can’t have been more than a few minutes, come still cooking on the places their bodies had connected.
“Phew!” Kyojuro grinned, entirely unserious. “That was intense. Fun, though.”
Tengen nodded, incapable of doing anything beyond that.
“Need anything? Water? Food?”
“Stay like this for a little?” Tengen asked.
“Of course!” Kyojuro smiled, moving around Tengen to settle his head against his chest. He could feel Kyojuro’s heart beating under him, letting the steady rhythm calm his mind.
“I’m not him.” Tengen whispered, mostly to himself.
“No you are not,” Kyojuro said back. “Not even close. Never were, never will be.”
Tengen repeated the words in his head like a mantra, letting them lull him off to sleep.
He woke up in the middle of the night and stumbled on tired legs to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and downed it all in one go, drops trailing down his chin. Padded over to the bathroom, tiptoeing even when he knew Kyojuro could sleep through an earthquake. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, strung out, exhausted, the resemblance undeniable, he didn’t flinch.