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Every morning, as soon as the clock handles settled on five, Giyuu heard a bell ring three times. The sound was gentle, a simple greeting, as much as it was a warning. Giyuu had only let it ring past the count of three once; the repairs that had to be done to his house, then, were not only expensive, but a permanent headache for the entirety of the week the procedure had taken to be done. Simply put, Giyuu wasn't interested in seeing that much water in his living space any time soon.
So, when the third ring of the bell sounded, penetrating the depths of Giyuu's sleep-addled mind, he was out of the bed and opening the door to the corridor before even waking up fully. He found the familiar sight of Iguro, sitting just past the door frame, vacant eyes fixed on him. Giyuu didn't bother suppressing a sigh, even when Iguro narrowed his eyes at him. Stumbling a bit every few steps, Giyuu padded to the kitchen while yawning widely.
He made quick work of setting water to boil, and while he waited for that, Giyuu found a plate and some fruits, spending minutes trying to arrange them in a way that would be pleasing. Not that Giyuu actually understood what Iguro considered pleasing, if anything at all, but at least he couldn't be accused of not trying.
Once he had the plate filled and the water had been poured to make some tea, Giyuu walked back the same corridor to enter the room across his own. Said room was actually the best one in the house, being more spacious than the one Giyuu kept, and having an extra set of sliding doors that granted access to the garden. Giyuu had long given up on trying to claim it back from Iguro.
"Took you long enough," Iguro said as a way of greeting. "Thought you might have slipped and hit your head. Or accidentally stabbed yourself with a spoon." He scoffed, full of disdain. "I wouldn't be surprised, coming from you."
"Good morning," Giyuu said in reply, setting down his offerings in front of Iguro. He didn't join him, right away, instead going to one corner of the room to light two incense sticks.
"You don't need to burn incense every morning, I'm not a god or any kind of spirit protecting your house," Iguro told him dismissively.
"You like the smell."
Iguro huffed and didn't reply, instead busying his mouth with chewing on a grape. Once he had swallowed that, he looked up. "Fruits and tea?"
"I forgot to buy the mochi."
"Do that again and I'll make sure next time there'll be more than just flooding wrecking your house," Iguro threatened, voice low and ominous.
Giyuu settled down across from him and nodded. "Okay."
As far as spirits went, Iguro was pretty easy to appease: as long as Giyuu kept Iguro's room clean and gave him a small meal early in the morning, he could avoid the misfortune that just Iguro’s presence in the house brought along. It was almost like having a low maintenance pet, except said pet had a penchant for insulting Giyuu every two sentences.
"If you were an animal, what animal would you be?" Giyuu asked just as Iguro swallowed a piece of a strawberry.
"Are you missing a brain cell or a million?"
Like so.
Giyuu shuffled his crossed legs, waiting for Iguro to be done—that was also a habit developed by harsh punishment in the past, Giyuu had learned to just be patient until Iguro said he was allowed to leave. He felt a little strange like this, like he often did when in Iguro’s presence. It was bound to happen, with Giyuu dressed in sweatpants and Iguro clad in full ceremonial kimono , the folds of it pooling at his knees and elbow as he ate his small plate of fruits. Giyuu watched the way Iguro raised his cup with a hand under it and the other around it, the action careful and polite, and he felt questions burning at his tongue.
“Were you always a spirit?” Giyuu asked, pausing when Iguro looked up with the sole intent of fixing a glare on him that asked if Giyuu was incredibly stupid. “...Or were you human, before?”
“I admire your ability to ask questions without thinking even once,” Iguro said. He sipped on his tea, set the cup down, traced the edge of the plate. Iguro thought to himself, folding his arms into the long sleeves of his kimono . “Why do you care?”
Giyuu shrugged, knowing he didn’t quite have the answer to that. Iguro, leveling a cold stare, remained silent, to the point where Giyuu was sure he wouldn’t get a response to his question. He resigned himself to counting the lines of the tatami flooring.
“If you want to know so badly,” Iguro started, after a long moment of absolutely nothing. His voice was just loud enough for Giyuu to startle in surprise. “I can’t remember it at all. That’s your answer.”
Giyuu frowned. “You can’t remember where you came from?”
“No.” Giyuu tilted his head, making Iguro click his tongue, but he added, “I can only remember being in this house, already as a spirit. Nothing farther back.” It was said in an unhappy tone, Iguro’s face distorted in distaste, but it was said nonetheless, and that was all that mattered to Giyuu.
Giyuu hummed due to a lack of substantial response, letting Iguro finish his meal in peace. Though, he didn’t need much more time, as the fruits had all been eaten, and he was drinking the last of his tea. Giyuu waited for him to set his cup down before speaking.
“May I leave now?”
“Yes, get out of my sight,” Iguro ordered, and Giyuu took that as his cue to retrieve the crockery and leave the room, now free to get on with his day. And with good timing, too, Giyuu realized as he glanced at the clock. With a quiet sigh, he went to get ready for work, not wanting to be late yet again.
It might be too small a town to get a bigger rush of customers than the usual five people who would come in—four of them being there to chat, while only one actually browsing the shop in search of something to buy—but working around the little convenience store still had Giyuu exhausted by the end of the day. He walked home with a kiss pressed to his cheek by the old lady that owned the store, and a horrible crick on his neck that Giyuu couldn’t wait to sleep through.
It was no wonder that, as soon as Giyuu changed into clean clothes, he collapsed on the futon without a second thought, blacking out no later than a second passed. With how tired he had been, Giyuu fully expected to only open his eyes again when the sun was up.
Despite his expectations, Giyuu would like to say he was surprised when, in the middle of the night, he felt a prickling sensation on his neck and heard the sound of bells, prompting his body to snap awake against his will. Giyuu was displeased, yes, but he knew Iguro had a tendency of doing whatever would cause the most suffering on Giyuu’s part. He could faintly see Iguro staring at him from the dark, and suddenly he felt more tired than ever.
“What?” Giyuu asked, half mumbling it as he turned his face to the pillow.
“It makes no sense,” Iguro said, without any elaboration.
Giyuu groaned. “What doesn’t?”
“You.”
That made Giyuu turn, enough so he could peer up at Iguro with an eye. The spirit was frowning down at his sleeves, instead of looking back at Giyuu.
“I am aware that part of what most people seem to think is a mysterious exterior is simply your incapability of expressing human emotions with your face, and a chronic case of being an idiot,” Iguro said. “But your actions don’t make any sense, either.”
Giyuu blinked at him. “Don’t they?”
“No,” Iguro replied firmly. “If they did, then you wouldn’t work at some old store for free, when it’s Summer vacation and most people would be resting instead.”
Seeing as he couldn’t escape this conversation until Iguro was satisfied with his answer, Giyuu reluctantly sat up, but rested his head on a fist, eyes battling to stay open.
“Is it really that strange?” Giyuu asked.
“You don’t need to work, and the old woman at the store isn’t your relative, you are under no obligation to help.” Iguro adjusted his sleeves, looking more fidgety than Giyuu had ever seen him. “Explain.”
Giyuu shrugged, but took a moment to find an answer that wouldn’t seem half-assed. “I just like doing it,” Giyuu said slowly. Iguro narrowed his eyes on him, and Giyuu heard the sound of wind, then glass breaking in the kitchen. Hurriedly, he added, “Isn’t it better than staying in the house all day, doing nothing?”
Gyuu winced immediately upon hearing his own words, and even more so when Iguro raised himself from the floor, padding silently towards Giyuu. He didn’t dare leave his place on the futon , but Giyuu did shuffle backwards when Iguro leaned down, getting into his space to more menacingly look down on Giyuu.
“Are you trying to irritate me, Tomioka?”
“Not deliberately.”
Iguro held his stare for a full minute, the silence between them a tense, palpable thing. Giyuu had to resist the urge to say something, knowing he would only make it worse. When he pulled back, finally, Giyuu felt himself breathe easier. As for Iguro, he had a hand to his forehead, like he was enduring some great burden and was very much tired of it—Giyuu thought that was unfair, given the fact that he was the one forced awake at absurd times of the day and the night.
“I can't leave the house in the first place, you already know that,” Iguro scoffed, though there was a hollow note to the way he said it. “And I wasted my time asking you questions. I don’t know why I bother.”
There was something more to that, something that Giyuu didn’t understand, nor did he know how to pry into, or if he even wanted to do such a thing. And yet, he still asked, “Does it get lonely in here?”
Iguro clicked his tongue and kicked Giyuu’s shin rather violently for someone of his size. “Know your place before I put you in it, Tomioka.”
Giyuu nodded and rubbed his shin. There was some advantage to the fact that he had an excuse not to look at Iguro’s face, and though he could still feel his piercing gaze, this was much better in comparison. “But you do want to get out, right?”
“I don’t see the point in discussing impossible things.” Iguro crossed his arms. “Unlike you, I’m not a masochist.”
“What if it wasn’t impossible?”
Iguro paused, his movements faltering for a moment. He frowned. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re tied to the house and its residents,” Giyuu reminded him.
“Yes, I am aware.”
“Well.”
“Well?”
Giyuu waited for it to click, but Iguro only looked more confused (and irritated) by the minute, so Giyuu pointed at himself. “I’m the resident.” He made a vague gesture in the direction of the exit. “So just come with me.”
Iguro’s expression distorted with disgust, rejection clear in his eyes. “That’s a stupid idea, it’ll never work.” Halfway through his sentence, Iguro had started pacing back and forth. He held a finger to his chin, pensive. “...But what if it does?”
There was no need for Giyuu to even open his mouth, as Iguro made the decision himself. Seeing his determined posture, Giyuu nodded to himself and figured that was that, lying back down to get some rest.
“What are you doing?” Iguro asked.
Giyuu flufflied up his pillow. “Sleeping?”
“I said let’s go .”
With a pointed stare to the clock hanging on the wall, Giyuu raised his eyebrows. “Right now?”
“Yes, of course right now, you useless moron.”
Giyuu barely had the time to fetch a jacket before Iguro was dragging him out, with Giyuu still in his pajamas. He pulled on Giyuu’s shirt without once pausing, almost choking Giyuu a few times when he stumbled to keep up. Iguro only let go when they reached the threshold, at which point Giyuu walked by himself, resigned to his fate. He squinted at the moon, questioning why he had to be awake at two in the morning.
It took a second, but Giyuu eventually noticed he was alone, and looked back to see Iguro standing a few steps before the gate, not attempting to approach.
“You wanted to do this,” Giyuu said.
With a huff, Iguro looked away, burying his hands in the folds of his kimono —he looked impossibly smaller when he did that. Giyuu, unsettled by the unusual show of hesitance, as well as irritated from the lack of sleep, unceremoniously grabbed Iguro’s wrist to be the one doing the dragging this time.
“What are you doing, Tomioka, let me go —” Iguro protested, struggling in Giyuu’s grasp. When he saw the gate, he gasped and pulled harder, but Giyuu did the same, and Iguro came stumbling out of the house with a loud clatter.
He took a moment to steady himself, head snapping back to stare at the gate, which they had now walked past. “Oh,” Iguro said under his breath.
Satisfied, Giyuu went to release Iguro’s wrist, but the spirit was faster, and grabbed his hand before it could slip away entirely. “Don’t,” Iguro commanded. “We don’t know what will happen if you let go, and I’d rather not risk it.”
Giyuu nodded in understanding, then waited for Iguro to recompose himself before walking again, his steps slow to allow Iguro to take in his surroundings without a hurry. He wondered if this was proof that Iguro was a spirit by nature, and not by death, given the warmth of his hand in Giyuu’s.
This was the first time that Giyuu realized that, for as long as Iguro remembered, he had never seen anything past the gardens. He still had a perfect understanding of the world outside, somehow, but the names, the stores, the routine of it all… Those were all things Iguro was aware of only through Giyuu’s retellings of it.
Irrationally, he felt guilt wash over him.
“Iguro,” he started, voice heavy, “I’m s—”
“What’s that?” Iguro interrupted, finger outstretched and pointed to a very small house some distance away. It was the only one with the lights on, and he could hear faint chatter laughter from the direction of it.
“Oh, that’s a ramen restaurant.” Giyuu tilted his head. “Or a bar. Both.”
“And it’s the only thing open this late at night?” Giyuu nodded. “It’s probably full of old men who have nothing better to do with their lives. Pathetic.”
Though Iguro’s voice was cold, there was unbridled amusement clear on his face, his cheeks squished up and eyes squinting like Giyuu had never seen him do before. It looked like glee, but coming from Iguro, Giyuu had a hard time believing that was what he was seeing.
“It’s a small town,” Giyuu said conversionally. “There isn’t much to do around here, even during the day.”
Iguro hummed, eyes scanning the roads below, the neat rows of houses illuminated by the lampposts. The crickets filled in the silence whenever they went quiet. “It suits you,” Iguro declared. “This peaceful, nowhere town, full of uneventful things.”
“I don’t know if you’re trying to insult me or not.”
“What do you think?”
He didn’t know what to think, and that was exactly the issue, but Giyuu kept that to himself. He hummed. “I think we’re friends regardless,” he replied, even if it didn’t quite fit with the current topic. It wasn’t the answer to Iguro’s question, but it was Giyuu’s most sincere reply.
“You choose the oddest times to get sentimental.” Iguro looked taken aback, but he made no corrections to Giyuu’s statement. Giyuu wondered if it meant something, then decided it definitely did without needing much time to think about it.
After all, when it came to Iguro, all the important things were to be found in the things he didn’t say, in the cracks along the tone of his voice and the looks that carried too many words. Thinking of it all made Giyuu feel a bit more tired, a bit more lost. The cold sank in for the first time, his jacket doing little to keep it at bay.
He longed to get back to bed, where his thoughts could rest, where he could put it all away to think of when the morning came and he was alone in his room.
Just then, the wind picked up, blowing harshly enough for Giyuu to raise an arm to his face and squeeze his eyes shut, protecting himself from the sting of it. In the moment he spent in the dark, he heard the rustle of the trees and the leaves, the rising orchestra of crickets and cicadas singing in the night, the wind still rushing past his ears, and finally, the ringing of the bells, soft enough that Giyuu almost didn’t hear it. He peered his eyes open, chancing a look at Iguro, who was watching him with a sideways glance.
Iguro wasn’t saying anything, but his gaze held meaning, as it often did. He could still hear the bells, melodious and quiet at the same time. Giyuu briefly looked down the path that would take them home, but didn’t turn to follow. He gripped Iguro’s hand tighter, tugged on it until they were walking again
“Come on,” Giyuu said. “There’s still a lot to see.”
Iguro cocked his head, looking pleased, and Giyuu forgot all about the cold.