RP Log: Yukimura and Kirihara
Rating: PG
When: Last Week
Where: Yuki's cabin
What: Akaya is bored. Really bored.
Snap!
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Kirihara loved that sound more then he should have. He twirled the flat iron in his fingers, much like he would a racket and snapped the two hot plates closed on each other again. Kirihara had been snooping in the maid’s quarters again looking for the naughty magazines his housekeeper had confiscated from below his mattress the first night of the cruise. Instead of founding his lost property he’d found an abandoned hair straightener.
Curiosity had gotten the best of him...or maybe it was more the lack of anything better to do that night on the ship and he now had a semi-decent excuse to spend time with Yukimura that lead him down a sideways corridor towards Yukimura’s private state room. “Buchou...” He stood outside the door, snapping the plates together as he waited.
The young devil paused, wondering if he’d look anything close to his fukubuchou with stick straight hair. He’d soon find out.
Yukimura put down his DS when he heard Kirihara’s voice outside of his room and an odd snapping noise. Curiosity striking the best of him, he switched off his game and padded over to open his door. What met his eyes was....unexpected to say the least.
“Akaya,” Yukimura greeted with a soft smile. He glanced towards the hair straightener but said nothing. “How nice of you to come visit me.”
“I visit you every night, Buchou.” A smile that looked more smirkish then he intended it to painted his features. “Look what I found.” He presented the straightener to the taller man expecting Yukimura to put it all together.
Reaching out, Yukimura ruffled Kirihara’s dark curls. “An appliance our sisters are fond of.” He quipped before stepping aside to let the younger teen in. “Are you that bored with your video games already?”
Kirihara looked grumpy for a moment. “My PSP won’t charge anymore.” With how rough he was on it, it was no surprise. He was on his third one because of abuse. “Amaya-chan doesn’t need a straightener.” It was no secret Kirihara thought Yukimura’s little sister was beautiful, he’d only gawked at her every time she made an appearance during matches.
Caught in lala-land, Kirihara slipped past Yukimura and flopped on the over sized bed in the middle of the room. “Wanna see what we look like with straight hair, buchou?” He snapped the device again, holding it above him.
He watched Kirihara basically waltz over to his bed and plop down. Somebody’s head was in another place. “People don’t need a lot of things, but they still want them.” Yukimura simply said as he shut the door.
Sitting at the edge of his bed, Yukimura laughed as Akaya snapped the straightener about. “I wonder what brought this phase about....”
“Bored.” Kirihara simply answered. Of course now his thoughts were occupied with a certain some one's little sister and her long beautiful straight hair. He held the straightener to his chest. He had been honest with his reasoning (partly).
Yukimura eyed the still slightly glazed over look in Kirihara’s eyes. It did not take a detective to figure out where his mind was as he took the straightener out of his hands. With his other hand, Yukimura smacked the back of Kirihara’s head. “Don’t think about my sister like that.”
“Ow! What the hell, Buchou!” Kirihara sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not!” He so was.
“Liar.” Yukimura looked at him knowingly as he put the hair straightener down at the end of the bed. “Your emotions read all over your face,” he teased as he scooted up on the bed and settled back against the pillows. “And anyways, you cannot hide from the child of god.”
Kirihara rolled his eyes jokingly and crawled up to sit closer to Yukimura. “Fine, I was a little bit.” He held his fingers up to show the size of how small he’d thought about it. “Not my fault shes hot.” He mumbled under his breath, inching closer to Yukimura.
Yukimura took advantage of Kirihara’s movements and smacked him upside the head once more. “I heard that Akaya,” he scolded. “Would you like it if I told you your sister was hot?”
Kirihara’s face screwed up immediately. “Gross, Buchou!” For good measure he stuck his tongue. His sister was a beast in his opinion.
The only thing Yukimura could do was laugh. “Now do you understand?” He asked, making himself comfortable. “It’s a very awkward thing don’t you think?” Especially since Kirihara apparently had a crush on him as well.
And Sanada. Who his sister liked. Oh what a complicated love...shape that would be.
“I guess so, if you put it that way.” Just thinking about his sister wanted to make him hurl. He supposed that was one really good thing about being stuck on this ship, she was far away and couldn’t tease, prod, poke or bother him while he was here.
The young demon scooted closer to Yukimura. “If we straighten your hair it’s gonna be long, Buchou.” He reached over, pulling one of the waves as gently as he could.
Yukimura sighed. “I suppose if we do yours first, then we will have to do mine hmmm?” He took Kirihara’s hand out of his hair. “You’re turning into a girl Akaya.”
“I am not!” Kirihara was quick to protest against Yukimura’s last claim. “It’s just for lack of anything better to do right now.” The idea of Yukimura’s hands in his hair that was something other then a nuzzle wasn’t so bad either. Green eyes narrowed in a glare that didn’t last long. The demon ace pushed himself off the bed and got down on his knees, searching for a plug so he could heat up the flat iron.
“Do you have a brush?” He asked, popping back up.
He stared at Kirihara for a long moment. “How do you think I brush my hair Akaya?” Yukimura teased with a light laugh. He got up and went to the bathroom before coming back with the brush in tow. Choosing the best spot, Yukimura sat down on the couch and gestured to the spot in front of him.
“Ready?”
“With your fingers, that’s what I do.” Needless to say Yukimura had a job in front of him with tangles of ebony that needed some serious taming. Kiriahara came over to Yukimura, bringing the flatting device with him before plopping between his knees
“Do your worst, buchou.” He tilted his head back to look up at Yukimura, a stupid look on his face.
Shaking his head, Yukimura pushed Kirihara’s face back down and stared at the nest that needed untangling. “You had better not think any more inappropriate thoughts about my sister,” he mentioned, half-teasing, half-not. He brushed through the first section of curls and winced at the knots the brush encountered. “We wouldn’t want my hand to accidentally slip with such a hot object in it.”
“You wouldn’t.” Oh yeah, Yukimura would. Kirihara looked forward, brinign his arms up and over Yukimura’s knees. Green eyes watered when Yukimura pulled at a knot in his hair. “Ow! Come on I’m not thinking about her!” He mistook the pull as a punishment for whatever naughty thoughts might have or might not have been filtering through his brain.
“That one was your own fault,” Yukimura murmured. He brushed through the rest of the locks and attempted to not so gently tug out the knots. “If you actually brushed your hair, you would not be hurting so badly.” Sometimes lessons had to be learned the hard way.
Kirihara grimaced as Yukimura worked the rest of the knots out of his hair. “Ah, fuck! Buchou don’t pull so hard.” He reached up to rub at his sore scalp. It was a few more moment of tugging and pulling until Yukimura seemed satisfied with the state of waves that resembled something more of a small afro now.
“I brush it...every now and again.” He reached up to wipe at his eyes.
“Language,” Yukimura scolded, tugging one more time as punishment. “What would Genichirou think if he knew you couldn’t take a little pain?”
As he let that thought sink in, he placed the brush on the couch and picked up the hair straightener. Yukimura racked his brain from how his sister did and slowly took a small section of hair. He pulled it all the way out and smiled as it came out straight. This wasn’t that hard.
“I can take it!” Kirihara quickly assured his captain and leaned back on him, fingers walking across the skin of Yukimura’s knee. It seemed like Yukimura had gotten through the worst of it now though. “I wonder if Fukubuchou and Yanagi-senpai ever do this to their hair secretly. Both of them have pretty straight hair.” The idea of either of them sitting in front of a mirror bothering with this was almost laughable.
Yukimura laughed. The image was utterly ridiculous. “I would never let them live it down if they did that.” At Kirihara’s adventuring fingers, however, his laughter was subdued, and he snapped the straightener behind his kouhai’s head to make him jump.
“Do I need to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?”
“I’m not doing anything!” Kirihara protested righting himself as he recovered from the snapping near his ear. He dared to bring his arms back over Yukimura’s knees again, slouching as Yukimura yanked and pulled more gently now at some small sections of his hair.
“Next time I won’t miss” was all Yukimura said in reply. He bit his lip as he focused, attempting not to miss any of the crazy stray seaweed-like hair. Akaya could definitely afford to put more conditioner in his hair as well.
A few moments of comfortable silence fell between the two buchous and Kirihara, for once, relaxed. Yukimura’s fingers even with the small pulling sensation felt good and put him at ease. “There won’t be a next time.” He laughed. “How does it look so far?” He asked.
“Interesting,” Yukimura replied mysteriously. Finishing up the last strands, he surveyed his work. Not too bad for a first time. “Are you ready to see?”
Kirihara didn’t like that tone but he wouldn’t show Yukimura the he was feeling leery about the idea of straight hair now. “Che, I bet it looks good.” He reached up to touch a part of his hair, it felt awkward that it wasn’t gnarled and messy.
Hopefully it looked okay.
Kirihara stood, making his way over to inspect the damage. “Whoa...” was all that he could spout out. Not anything like Sanada like he had secretly kind of hoped for...well maybe if he pushed his hair over a little this way or kind of up.
Yukimura let Kirihara have a few moments to himself. Setting the hair straighener down somewhere safe so neither of them would step on it, Yukimura padded over to where Kirihara was currently oogling himself. From the back, the younger teen with straight black hair almost looked like....
Oh.
Suddenly it all clicked, and Yukimura felt quite like an idiot for not piecing it together sooner. “You have a different haircut than him,” he said softly as he leaned against the door frame. “Either of them actually.”
Kirihara flushed almost immediately. “Haircut like who?” He played dumb and brushed longer ebony stands forward to let them swoop over the front of his forehead. Maybe he kind of looked like Yanagi-senpai if he pulled them all forward. He did that but they were much too long. With a puff he pushed them out of his eyes. “Amaya-chan and you?”
“You know who,” Yukimura simply said before turning back into the room. He dug around on the dresser and pulled up one of Sanada’s hats. Returning, the navy-haired man plopped it on Kirihara’s head. He surveyed the younger buchou for a long moment before shaking his head.
“Better, but still not close to the same.”
It was the longest time Kirihara had been in contact with one of Sanada’s hats. Any time the young ace tried to swipe it during meditation it was quickly ripped out of his hands. Wide green eyes lifted to look at the dirty edge of a black brim.
“I don’t have the side burns...” It was a small and quiet admission.
Yukimura laughed and pulled the hat back off him. Somehow, he had a feeling Sanada would not be pleased if he ever found out. It would be their little secret. “Changing your hair won’t make you more like him,” Yukimura chided.
“You are who you are Akaya.” He put the hat on his own head as he came up behind Kirihara and rested his chin on his head. “You are rather dear to us because of that.” Tugging a lock of straight hair, Yukimura flashed him a sweet smile before disappearing back into his bedroom.
Kirihara stood there for a while staring at himself for a few moments. Yukimura had never said anything like that before, he knew he was spoiled but he always just figured that came with the territory of being the baby or whatever they called him.
“Buchou...don’t mess around.” He leaned in the door frame, arms crossed over his chest watching Yukimura perch himself neatly on the corner of his bed.
Yukimura just gave him an innocent look. He grabbed his brush and started combing it through his own hair. “Why would I ever do that?” Gesturing down, Yukimura pointed to the hair straightener. “My turn?”
“Yeah, yeah buchou.” Kirihara came over to sit behind Yukimura, taking the brush out of Yukimura’s fingers so he could continue the job. Yukimura had the softest hair, at least softer by leaps and bounds then Akaya’s ever was.
It felt like baby hair.
“Am I really dear or whatever?” He tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible as he brushed through dark blue waves.
“I already told you Akaya. You are what you are. It is as simple as that.” Yukimura tilted his head back to make it easier for Kirihara to brush it. A part of him worried Kirihara would be careless and burn half of it off. If that were the case, he would be sporting Sanada’s hat a lot more regularily than he would have liked to in public.
Hopefully, they would not reach such a stage.
“But dear, buchou?” Kirihara was being surprisingly gentle with Yukimura’s hair. He knew this was a privilege. He took a section of Yukimura’s hair, slowly sliding the straightener over it. Truth be told he’d watch his sister do this a million times over -- she’d been blessed with the same seaweed head he had.”
“You were chosen in our footsteps,” Yukimura simply replied. So far, so good. Perhaps Akaya recognized his boundaries for once. Yukimura considered that progress. “And I am done being sentimental tonight.” A not so subtle hint to drop it.
“Che, sentimental?” Kirihara’s face screwed up and he shifted on his knees to reach the other side of Yukimura’s hair. “You were the one who said it.” He pointed out, not only going against but completely ignoring the fact that Yukimura had basically told him to knock it off.
Yukimura just hummed. Kirihara had always been a child who took a mile every time you gave even an inch. Unfortunately, he was not about to tell Rikkai’s baby that the troika had a soft spot for him again. Content to sit in silence, Yukimura slid his eyes closed and waited for Kirihara’s careful hands to finish.
“Alright, Buchou. Lemme do the front.” He sat back on his butt and snapped the flat iron a few times waiting for Yukimura to face him. Yukimura’s slience told him he’d pushed just a little to far.
Turning so he faced Kirihara, Yukimura crossed his legs and neatly placed his hands in his lap. Calm, tranquil, almost as if he were meditating. Lavender eyes shot Kirihara a look as he smiled. “How does it look so far?”
“Like Amaya-chan’s.” Kirihara flinched expecting a bop on the head.
Yukimura said nothing, the look in his eyes said it all for him. There was little worse than being compared to one’s sister, especially when his looks were feminine enough as it was. One more remark, and Yukimura would have Kirihara running around the island for days straight.
“What, no! Not like that!” Kirihara back-peddled. He really hadn’t meant that Yukimura looked like a girl, it was just that Amaya had always worn her hair straight and it was the same shade so of course it looked closest to her’s.
Akaya only stared at Yukimura for a few moments before he reached forward to flatten out the last few pieces of his hair. “There. Very manly, buchou.” He reached up with the brush and combed some of Yukimura’s hair back. It actually looked really good.
Laughing, Yukimura simply shook his head. He could feel his hair brushing his shoulders now, and it already annoyed him. “Can I look now?” he asked teasingly. Akaya was staring at him. Yukimura was beginning to understand that look more than he ever wanted to.
Akaya nodded, jumping off the bed to unplug the hair tool. “It’s really long.” He was starting to feel like they were looking like a couple of those guys from those stupid boy bands his sister always listened to and reached up to tug at a lock of his hair as he followed Yukimura into the bathroom.
“Watcha think?”
Yukimura had not thought it possible to look more feminine than he already did, but this look had rapidly proved him wrong. Wrinkling his nose, the tennis player dug through drawers for a hair tie and pulled it up. “I think I will not be doing this again,” he admitted. Turning to face Kirihara, Yukimura poked his cheek on his way out of the bathroom. “Thank you for not burning me though.”
Kirihara only laughed. “That bad, huh?” He fluffed his own hair watching as it stuck up anywhere he pulled at it. “And I wouldn’t burn you, Buchou.” Sanada on the hand, maybe. He watched with amused eyes as Yukimura quickly scooped long blue strands into an elastic band then came past him and pushed his fingers into his cheeks.
“Buchou.” He whined a little but followed anyway, rubbing at the soft skin of his face.
“Akayaaaaa,” Yukimura whined back, mocking him. He would have to get a hair cut when he got home. Too much hair in his eyes could throw off his game, and Yukimura would not have such trivial things getting in the way. As it was though, his hair seemed far more trivial compared to problems such as getting off this damn island. Renji said they were close. Hopefully he would not have to wait much longer.
Kirihara only rolled his eyes at the whine Yukimura gave him back before a stuid grin settled on his features and he charged the bed, jumping up into it and rolling into Yukimura’s side. “For all my hairdressing work I think I deserve being here tonight.” Kirihara still would try at any chance he got to be close to Yukimura.
Who knew how long they’d be stuck here, and once they were rescued Yukimura would be busy and far beyond High School Tennis. Kirihara was going to live up and take advantage of every hour he had left his his senpai because secretly, way down deep, they were dear to him too.
“Successfully straightening my hair is the equivalent of beating me in a tennis match now?” Yukimura inquired as he rolled Kirihara’s body to the other side of the bed. Pushing down the covers, he looked over at the unfamiliar mop of hair. “How very interesting.”
“Not exactly.” Kirihara let him push him to the side. “When that happens I want all three of you.” Kirihara laughed, only half kidding as he helped himself under the covers and wrapped himself around one of the many pillows Yukimura had on his bed. Once Yukimura fell asleep the pillow would be replaced with the formally wavy haired captain.
Shooting Kirihara an amused look, Yukimura bundled himself up in all of the blankets surrounding him. Normally Renji or Sanada were there to keep him warm and from getting lost as well, but considering how busy Renji had been and the way things were with Sanada, he’d grown quite used almost getting lost every night.
“Be good Akaya,” Yukimura called out as he switched off the lights.
“When am I not?” Akaya smiled over the edge of the pillow, mouth hidden but every bit of it showing in green eyes. “Goodnight, Buchou.” Kirihara waited a few minutes after Yukimura said his own goodnight before he moved closer, testing the waters before he he finally decided Yukimura was indeed sleeping peacefully.
The demon knew this probably didn’t fall under the category of being good, but how mad could Yukimura really get at him for accidentally rolling closer in the middle of the night. Arms came around Yukimura’s middle as Kirihara snuggled into the warmth Yukimura had to offer.
It was nights like these that being the baby wasn’t half bad.
When: Last Week
Where: Yuki's cabin
What: Akaya is bored. Really bored.
Snap!
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Kirihara loved that sound more then he should have. He twirled the flat iron in his fingers, much like he would a racket and snapped the two hot plates closed on each other again. Kirihara had been snooping in the maid’s quarters again looking for the naughty magazines his housekeeper had confiscated from below his mattress the first night of the cruise. Instead of founding his lost property he’d found an abandoned hair straightener.
Curiosity had gotten the best of him...or maybe it was more the lack of anything better to do that night on the ship and he now had a semi-decent excuse to spend time with Yukimura that lead him down a sideways corridor towards Yukimura’s private state room. “Buchou...” He stood outside the door, snapping the plates together as he waited.
The young devil paused, wondering if he’d look anything close to his fukubuchou with stick straight hair. He’d soon find out.
Yukimura put down his DS when he heard Kirihara’s voice outside of his room and an odd snapping noise. Curiosity striking the best of him, he switched off his game and padded over to open his door. What met his eyes was....unexpected to say the least.
“Akaya,” Yukimura greeted with a soft smile. He glanced towards the hair straightener but said nothing. “How nice of you to come visit me.”
“I visit you every night, Buchou.” A smile that looked more smirkish then he intended it to painted his features. “Look what I found.” He presented the straightener to the taller man expecting Yukimura to put it all together.
Reaching out, Yukimura ruffled Kirihara’s dark curls. “An appliance our sisters are fond of.” He quipped before stepping aside to let the younger teen in. “Are you that bored with your video games already?”
Kirihara looked grumpy for a moment. “My PSP won’t charge anymore.” With how rough he was on it, it was no surprise. He was on his third one because of abuse. “Amaya-chan doesn’t need a straightener.” It was no secret Kirihara thought Yukimura’s little sister was beautiful, he’d only gawked at her every time she made an appearance during matches.
Caught in lala-land, Kirihara slipped past Yukimura and flopped on the over sized bed in the middle of the room. “Wanna see what we look like with straight hair, buchou?” He snapped the device again, holding it above him.
He watched Kirihara basically waltz over to his bed and plop down. Somebody’s head was in another place. “People don’t need a lot of things, but they still want them.” Yukimura simply said as he shut the door.
Sitting at the edge of his bed, Yukimura laughed as Akaya snapped the straightener about. “I wonder what brought this phase about....”
“Bored.” Kirihara simply answered. Of course now his thoughts were occupied with a certain some one's little sister and her long beautiful straight hair. He held the straightener to his chest. He had been honest with his reasoning (partly).
Yukimura eyed the still slightly glazed over look in Kirihara’s eyes. It did not take a detective to figure out where his mind was as he took the straightener out of his hands. With his other hand, Yukimura smacked the back of Kirihara’s head. “Don’t think about my sister like that.”
“Ow! What the hell, Buchou!” Kirihara sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not!” He so was.
“Liar.” Yukimura looked at him knowingly as he put the hair straightener down at the end of the bed. “Your emotions read all over your face,” he teased as he scooted up on the bed and settled back against the pillows. “And anyways, you cannot hide from the child of god.”
Kirihara rolled his eyes jokingly and crawled up to sit closer to Yukimura. “Fine, I was a little bit.” He held his fingers up to show the size of how small he’d thought about it. “Not my fault shes hot.” He mumbled under his breath, inching closer to Yukimura.
Yukimura took advantage of Kirihara’s movements and smacked him upside the head once more. “I heard that Akaya,” he scolded. “Would you like it if I told you your sister was hot?”
Kirihara’s face screwed up immediately. “Gross, Buchou!” For good measure he stuck his tongue. His sister was a beast in his opinion.
The only thing Yukimura could do was laugh. “Now do you understand?” He asked, making himself comfortable. “It’s a very awkward thing don’t you think?” Especially since Kirihara apparently had a crush on him as well.
And Sanada. Who his sister liked. Oh what a complicated love...shape that would be.
“I guess so, if you put it that way.” Just thinking about his sister wanted to make him hurl. He supposed that was one really good thing about being stuck on this ship, she was far away and couldn’t tease, prod, poke or bother him while he was here.
The young demon scooted closer to Yukimura. “If we straighten your hair it’s gonna be long, Buchou.” He reached over, pulling one of the waves as gently as he could.
Yukimura sighed. “I suppose if we do yours first, then we will have to do mine hmmm?” He took Kirihara’s hand out of his hair. “You’re turning into a girl Akaya.”
“I am not!” Kirihara was quick to protest against Yukimura’s last claim. “It’s just for lack of anything better to do right now.” The idea of Yukimura’s hands in his hair that was something other then a nuzzle wasn’t so bad either. Green eyes narrowed in a glare that didn’t last long. The demon ace pushed himself off the bed and got down on his knees, searching for a plug so he could heat up the flat iron.
“Do you have a brush?” He asked, popping back up.
He stared at Kirihara for a long moment. “How do you think I brush my hair Akaya?” Yukimura teased with a light laugh. He got up and went to the bathroom before coming back with the brush in tow. Choosing the best spot, Yukimura sat down on the couch and gestured to the spot in front of him.
“Ready?”
“With your fingers, that’s what I do.” Needless to say Yukimura had a job in front of him with tangles of ebony that needed some serious taming. Kiriahara came over to Yukimura, bringing the flatting device with him before plopping between his knees
“Do your worst, buchou.” He tilted his head back to look up at Yukimura, a stupid look on his face.
Shaking his head, Yukimura pushed Kirihara’s face back down and stared at the nest that needed untangling. “You had better not think any more inappropriate thoughts about my sister,” he mentioned, half-teasing, half-not. He brushed through the first section of curls and winced at the knots the brush encountered. “We wouldn’t want my hand to accidentally slip with such a hot object in it.”
“You wouldn’t.” Oh yeah, Yukimura would. Kirihara looked forward, brinign his arms up and over Yukimura’s knees. Green eyes watered when Yukimura pulled at a knot in his hair. “Ow! Come on I’m not thinking about her!” He mistook the pull as a punishment for whatever naughty thoughts might have or might not have been filtering through his brain.
“That one was your own fault,” Yukimura murmured. He brushed through the rest of the locks and attempted to not so gently tug out the knots. “If you actually brushed your hair, you would not be hurting so badly.” Sometimes lessons had to be learned the hard way.
Kirihara grimaced as Yukimura worked the rest of the knots out of his hair. “Ah, fuck! Buchou don’t pull so hard.” He reached up to rub at his sore scalp. It was a few more moment of tugging and pulling until Yukimura seemed satisfied with the state of waves that resembled something more of a small afro now.
“I brush it...every now and again.” He reached up to wipe at his eyes.
“Language,” Yukimura scolded, tugging one more time as punishment. “What would Genichirou think if he knew you couldn’t take a little pain?”
As he let that thought sink in, he placed the brush on the couch and picked up the hair straightener. Yukimura racked his brain from how his sister did and slowly took a small section of hair. He pulled it all the way out and smiled as it came out straight. This wasn’t that hard.
“I can take it!” Kirihara quickly assured his captain and leaned back on him, fingers walking across the skin of Yukimura’s knee. It seemed like Yukimura had gotten through the worst of it now though. “I wonder if Fukubuchou and Yanagi-senpai ever do this to their hair secretly. Both of them have pretty straight hair.” The idea of either of them sitting in front of a mirror bothering with this was almost laughable.
Yukimura laughed. The image was utterly ridiculous. “I would never let them live it down if they did that.” At Kirihara’s adventuring fingers, however, his laughter was subdued, and he snapped the straightener behind his kouhai’s head to make him jump.
“Do I need to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?”
“I’m not doing anything!” Kirihara protested righting himself as he recovered from the snapping near his ear. He dared to bring his arms back over Yukimura’s knees again, slouching as Yukimura yanked and pulled more gently now at some small sections of his hair.
“Next time I won’t miss” was all Yukimura said in reply. He bit his lip as he focused, attempting not to miss any of the crazy stray seaweed-like hair. Akaya could definitely afford to put more conditioner in his hair as well.
A few moments of comfortable silence fell between the two buchous and Kirihara, for once, relaxed. Yukimura’s fingers even with the small pulling sensation felt good and put him at ease. “There won’t be a next time.” He laughed. “How does it look so far?” He asked.
“Interesting,” Yukimura replied mysteriously. Finishing up the last strands, he surveyed his work. Not too bad for a first time. “Are you ready to see?”
Kirihara didn’t like that tone but he wouldn’t show Yukimura the he was feeling leery about the idea of straight hair now. “Che, I bet it looks good.” He reached up to touch a part of his hair, it felt awkward that it wasn’t gnarled and messy.
Hopefully it looked okay.
Kirihara stood, making his way over to inspect the damage. “Whoa...” was all that he could spout out. Not anything like Sanada like he had secretly kind of hoped for...well maybe if he pushed his hair over a little this way or kind of up.
Yukimura let Kirihara have a few moments to himself. Setting the hair straighener down somewhere safe so neither of them would step on it, Yukimura padded over to where Kirihara was currently oogling himself. From the back, the younger teen with straight black hair almost looked like....
Oh.
Suddenly it all clicked, and Yukimura felt quite like an idiot for not piecing it together sooner. “You have a different haircut than him,” he said softly as he leaned against the door frame. “Either of them actually.”
Kirihara flushed almost immediately. “Haircut like who?” He played dumb and brushed longer ebony stands forward to let them swoop over the front of his forehead. Maybe he kind of looked like Yanagi-senpai if he pulled them all forward. He did that but they were much too long. With a puff he pushed them out of his eyes. “Amaya-chan and you?”
“You know who,” Yukimura simply said before turning back into the room. He dug around on the dresser and pulled up one of Sanada’s hats. Returning, the navy-haired man plopped it on Kirihara’s head. He surveyed the younger buchou for a long moment before shaking his head.
“Better, but still not close to the same.”
It was the longest time Kirihara had been in contact with one of Sanada’s hats. Any time the young ace tried to swipe it during meditation it was quickly ripped out of his hands. Wide green eyes lifted to look at the dirty edge of a black brim.
“I don’t have the side burns...” It was a small and quiet admission.
Yukimura laughed and pulled the hat back off him. Somehow, he had a feeling Sanada would not be pleased if he ever found out. It would be their little secret. “Changing your hair won’t make you more like him,” Yukimura chided.
“You are who you are Akaya.” He put the hat on his own head as he came up behind Kirihara and rested his chin on his head. “You are rather dear to us because of that.” Tugging a lock of straight hair, Yukimura flashed him a sweet smile before disappearing back into his bedroom.
Kirihara stood there for a while staring at himself for a few moments. Yukimura had never said anything like that before, he knew he was spoiled but he always just figured that came with the territory of being the baby or whatever they called him.
“Buchou...don’t mess around.” He leaned in the door frame, arms crossed over his chest watching Yukimura perch himself neatly on the corner of his bed.
Yukimura just gave him an innocent look. He grabbed his brush and started combing it through his own hair. “Why would I ever do that?” Gesturing down, Yukimura pointed to the hair straightener. “My turn?”
“Yeah, yeah buchou.” Kirihara came over to sit behind Yukimura, taking the brush out of Yukimura’s fingers so he could continue the job. Yukimura had the softest hair, at least softer by leaps and bounds then Akaya’s ever was.
It felt like baby hair.
“Am I really dear or whatever?” He tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible as he brushed through dark blue waves.
“I already told you Akaya. You are what you are. It is as simple as that.” Yukimura tilted his head back to make it easier for Kirihara to brush it. A part of him worried Kirihara would be careless and burn half of it off. If that were the case, he would be sporting Sanada’s hat a lot more regularily than he would have liked to in public.
Hopefully, they would not reach such a stage.
“But dear, buchou?” Kirihara was being surprisingly gentle with Yukimura’s hair. He knew this was a privilege. He took a section of Yukimura’s hair, slowly sliding the straightener over it. Truth be told he’d watch his sister do this a million times over -- she’d been blessed with the same seaweed head he had.”
“You were chosen in our footsteps,” Yukimura simply replied. So far, so good. Perhaps Akaya recognized his boundaries for once. Yukimura considered that progress. “And I am done being sentimental tonight.” A not so subtle hint to drop it.
“Che, sentimental?” Kirihara’s face screwed up and he shifted on his knees to reach the other side of Yukimura’s hair. “You were the one who said it.” He pointed out, not only going against but completely ignoring the fact that Yukimura had basically told him to knock it off.
Yukimura just hummed. Kirihara had always been a child who took a mile every time you gave even an inch. Unfortunately, he was not about to tell Rikkai’s baby that the troika had a soft spot for him again. Content to sit in silence, Yukimura slid his eyes closed and waited for Kirihara’s careful hands to finish.
“Alright, Buchou. Lemme do the front.” He sat back on his butt and snapped the flat iron a few times waiting for Yukimura to face him. Yukimura’s slience told him he’d pushed just a little to far.
Turning so he faced Kirihara, Yukimura crossed his legs and neatly placed his hands in his lap. Calm, tranquil, almost as if he were meditating. Lavender eyes shot Kirihara a look as he smiled. “How does it look so far?”
“Like Amaya-chan’s.” Kirihara flinched expecting a bop on the head.
Yukimura said nothing, the look in his eyes said it all for him. There was little worse than being compared to one’s sister, especially when his looks were feminine enough as it was. One more remark, and Yukimura would have Kirihara running around the island for days straight.
“What, no! Not like that!” Kirihara back-peddled. He really hadn’t meant that Yukimura looked like a girl, it was just that Amaya had always worn her hair straight and it was the same shade so of course it looked closest to her’s.
Akaya only stared at Yukimura for a few moments before he reached forward to flatten out the last few pieces of his hair. “There. Very manly, buchou.” He reached up with the brush and combed some of Yukimura’s hair back. It actually looked really good.
Laughing, Yukimura simply shook his head. He could feel his hair brushing his shoulders now, and it already annoyed him. “Can I look now?” he asked teasingly. Akaya was staring at him. Yukimura was beginning to understand that look more than he ever wanted to.
Akaya nodded, jumping off the bed to unplug the hair tool. “It’s really long.” He was starting to feel like they were looking like a couple of those guys from those stupid boy bands his sister always listened to and reached up to tug at a lock of his hair as he followed Yukimura into the bathroom.
“Watcha think?”
Yukimura had not thought it possible to look more feminine than he already did, but this look had rapidly proved him wrong. Wrinkling his nose, the tennis player dug through drawers for a hair tie and pulled it up. “I think I will not be doing this again,” he admitted. Turning to face Kirihara, Yukimura poked his cheek on his way out of the bathroom. “Thank you for not burning me though.”
Kirihara only laughed. “That bad, huh?” He fluffed his own hair watching as it stuck up anywhere he pulled at it. “And I wouldn’t burn you, Buchou.” Sanada on the hand, maybe. He watched with amused eyes as Yukimura quickly scooped long blue strands into an elastic band then came past him and pushed his fingers into his cheeks.
“Buchou.” He whined a little but followed anyway, rubbing at the soft skin of his face.
“Akayaaaaa,” Yukimura whined back, mocking him. He would have to get a hair cut when he got home. Too much hair in his eyes could throw off his game, and Yukimura would not have such trivial things getting in the way. As it was though, his hair seemed far more trivial compared to problems such as getting off this damn island. Renji said they were close. Hopefully he would not have to wait much longer.
Kirihara only rolled his eyes at the whine Yukimura gave him back before a stuid grin settled on his features and he charged the bed, jumping up into it and rolling into Yukimura’s side. “For all my hairdressing work I think I deserve being here tonight.” Kirihara still would try at any chance he got to be close to Yukimura.
Who knew how long they’d be stuck here, and once they were rescued Yukimura would be busy and far beyond High School Tennis. Kirihara was going to live up and take advantage of every hour he had left his his senpai because secretly, way down deep, they were dear to him too.
“Successfully straightening my hair is the equivalent of beating me in a tennis match now?” Yukimura inquired as he rolled Kirihara’s body to the other side of the bed. Pushing down the covers, he looked over at the unfamiliar mop of hair. “How very interesting.”
“Not exactly.” Kirihara let him push him to the side. “When that happens I want all three of you.” Kirihara laughed, only half kidding as he helped himself under the covers and wrapped himself around one of the many pillows Yukimura had on his bed. Once Yukimura fell asleep the pillow would be replaced with the formally wavy haired captain.
Shooting Kirihara an amused look, Yukimura bundled himself up in all of the blankets surrounding him. Normally Renji or Sanada were there to keep him warm and from getting lost as well, but considering how busy Renji had been and the way things were with Sanada, he’d grown quite used almost getting lost every night.
“Be good Akaya,” Yukimura called out as he switched off the lights.
“When am I not?” Akaya smiled over the edge of the pillow, mouth hidden but every bit of it showing in green eyes. “Goodnight, Buchou.” Kirihara waited a few minutes after Yukimura said his own goodnight before he moved closer, testing the waters before he he finally decided Yukimura was indeed sleeping peacefully.
The demon knew this probably didn’t fall under the category of being good, but how mad could Yukimura really get at him for accidentally rolling closer in the middle of the night. Arms came around Yukimura’s middle as Kirihara snuggled into the warmth Yukimura had to offer.
It was nights like these that being the baby wasn’t half bad.