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cookiepie11 · 1 year ago

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Tickletober Day 13: Sneak Attack

Summary: When the Hashiras run into each other while returning from missions, Mitsuri is shocked Muichiro doesn't remember her and decides he deserves a tickly punishment.

Word Count: 2,088

"Who are you?"

Mitsuri didn't know what to say to that.

She was a friendly person, and she deeply admired her fellow Hashira. She tried to bond with them and greatly enjoyed the time they spent together. Admittedly, she hadn't spent as much time with Muichiro as she had with some of the others. Still, it should be enough for him to remember her!

She gaped at him, awkwardly floundering with her hands as she tried to overcome her embarrassment.

"Ah—well it's me… Mitsuri Kanroji… the Love Hashira?" She said with a confused tilt to her voice that made it seem more like a question. She kept talking until something like recognition bloomed in his cloudy eyes.

"Oh. Did you need something?"

Heat flooded her face as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. This wasn't going how she expected. She simply wanted to say hello to her fellow Hashira and perhaps share a meal, but she hadn't thought he would be so aloof!

"No! I was just—" She cut herself off, noticing the cut on his neck. His whole appearance was disheveled, his uniform was bloodstained, and his right leg was dragging slightly behind his left. She'd noticed it when she first approached him, but his response quickly distracted her from her worry. "Are you hurt?"

"It's only minor injuries. I was going to go to the Butterfly Mansion to be treated." He said, gazing up at the sky.

"Eh?! But–but that's so far from here! It would take days to get there! Especially if your leg is injured!" Mitsuri protested, frantically gesturing with her arms. "There's a house with a wisteria crest nearby! Let's go there instead!"

He stared at her for a long moment with a puzzled look. "What?"

She realized he must've spaced out again. It wasn't surprising; he had always been a bit scatter-brained. "Come on! Let's get you some help!"

The walk took longer than it should have with Muichiro's injured leg. Mitsuri had offered to help and crouched down. He hadn't understood why and stared at her until she stood back up, red-faced and talking rapidly. She was like a little chick that wouldn't stop chirping.

Finally, they arrived at a house and were greeted by an elderly couple. A doctor was summoned for him, and Mitsuri disappeared somewhere during his treatment. His injuries weren't severe. Some cuts and scrapes that were quickly dressed, and there was a break or a sprain or something that Muichiro had lost focus on when the doctor explained it. He was too busy trying to remember the name of a bird he saw through the window.

"Are you feeling better?"

Muichiro had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the doctor leave or Mitsuri enter. She must have been bathing because her hair was wet and gathered in rivulets around her, except for a section she was gathering and braiding together. It was pretty. He wondered why it was such an odd color.

"I'm fine," He said, standing up and ignoring the pain in his leg. "I'll be leaving now."

"What? But we just got here!" She cried, dropping the half-made braid.

"Our time is more valuable as Hashiras. Every second we waste leads to someone's death. You aren't even injured. Can you afford to waste your time lounging around here?"

Her mouth fell open, and her face turned red again. It took her a moment to compose herself before she spoke. "You're right… but I don't think that's fair! We're humans, not demons! We need to rest and take breaks, or else we can't perform! We'll make mistakes and get hurt!"

Muichiro stared at her, unconvinced and blank-faced, so she continued to blabber on. "Besides! It's morning so no demons are out! And–and I haven't received a new mission yet, so I have nowhere I need to go! And I don't think you've gotten one either!"

He sighed. It was early. It would be at least half a day before the sun set and demons could hunt; his crow hadn't alerted him of any other pressing matters, and the throbbing in his foot worsened when he walked. He supposed he could spend a few hours eating and resting before he pursued his next mission. It had been a long time since he'd had a proper meal, or rest for that matter, but he doubted he'd have enough time for that.

Tilting his head at Mitsuri, he asked, "Do they have food?"

Her entire being brightened. She was radiant. Smiling and laughing, she clapped her hands together and ran out of the room, promising she'd return with food. He sat back down in his provided bed, toying with a few stands of his hair as he tried to replicate her braid.

After a few failed attempts and getting distracted by the chittering of his crow, Mitsuri returned with the couple, carrying a table and large portions of food.

He didn't need to be confined to his bed, but they insisted on bringing everything to him. They probably would have fed him if he'd let them.

Mitsuri proved to be a surprisingly voracious eater. He didn't expect such a dainty girl to eat so much and lost count after her sixth serving.

The food was good. Warm. Oddly nostalgic. It happened quite often. He'd recognize something familiar. From his old life. The fog around his memories receded just enough for him to recall it without being able to place it; there was never enough to remember anything of value—to unmuddle his mind.

She couldn’t stop talking throughout the meal, either. Mindless chatter and tirades that Muichiro found himself enjoying when he could focus on what she was saying. She didn’t mind when he spaced out and continued on, filling the silence or repeating the question a few times until his attention returned.

“Hm?” He asked, noticing her expectant stare as he tuned back in.

“Do you have any family?” She repeated. She was nice—patient. He knew how easy it was to be annoyed by him. Most people, that he could remember, were.

Before he completely lost focus again, he shifted his gaze back towards Mitsuri instead of the wall it was veering towards.

“I don’t know.”

If he did have one, he had no memories of them. The thought of it left him with a vague longing and sadness that accompanied every other mention of his past, but it made no difference. The fog never cleared.

“Oh,” For a moment, a remarkably sad look passed over Mitsuri’s face, but it quickly brightened again with an enthusiastic smile. “That’s okay! You can make your own family someday! Soon, I want to get married and have lots of kids! You can too, when you’re older!”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t know her well but couldn’t recall any mention of a partner. “Who are you going to marry?”

Another blush spread as she cupped her hands around her face, laughing nervously. “Well… I don’t know exactly who yet… but I want to marry someone who’s stronger than me. That’s actually why I joined the Corps…”

He thought for a moment. “Gyomei is pretty strong.”

“Yes, but he’s a bit too old for me. And I… already have my eye on someone else!” Her blush grew as she admitted it.

“Who?”

Shaking her head rapidly, she waved him off with a gasp. “No! There’s no way I could tell you that! It’s too embarrassing! And how come you remember Gyomei’s name but you couldn’t remember me?!”

He shrugged. He’d finished his meal and glanced at the bed, debating whether he should rest before he left for his next mission.

Mitsuri smiled, eyes twinkling. "I think I should teach you a lesson! One that you'll never forget!" She exclaimed, shuffling closer to him.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a method I've mastered over years of training. My—" She lunged at him, rapidly squeezing his sides,"—ultimate tickle attack!"

Muichiro gasped, his eyes widening as he burst into laughter, cringing away from her touch. "Whahat ahare yohohou dohoing?"

"I told you already! I'm teaching you a lesson!" She said, cooing at the adorable noises coming from the younger boy.

He squirmed at the oddly familiar sensation. He recognized it—tickling—but couldn't quite place it in his memories; there was only a vague sense of warmth and longing.

His instincts urged him to get away, but he was tired. He was tired, and his leg was injured, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant, and—and in his faint memories, there was only joy.

So he could let Mitsuri have a little fun.

"You're so cute! Cute! Cute! Cute!" She cheered, poking his ribs with each exclamation.

He squeaked, swatting at her hands as she poked him, making him slowly slink to the ground. With a laugh, she eased his fall, cushioning his head and continuing her attack.

A flush spread across his cheeks, an odd embarrassment coursing through him at her teasing. Cute certainly wasn't a word often used to describe him. He was a Hashira, after all, and not even one of the nicer, bubblier ones like Mitsuri; if anything, she was the cute one.

But her words didn't bother him as much as he thought they should. It made him oddly warm and light, almost as if he could float away, if not for the ticklish sensations keeping him grounded.

It seemed Mitsuri, who had been distracted by the adorable scene in front of her—Muichiro's reddening ears and cheeks, covered with stray strands of hair that splayed around him or the floor, face pulled into a bright, hesitant smile, his hands that clenched her sleeves, seemingly not intending to intervene with his torment, instead seeking to preoccupy themselves so as to not interrupt, his squirming was an unconscious movement, one that made him lurch and jump and squeak whenever she hit an especially bad spot, but never truly intended to get away—finally remembered what her objective had been with tickling Muichiro.

"Come on! Do you remember now? What's my name?" She cooed, digging into his stomach.

"Mihihi—" he let out a high-pitched noise, something like a squeal, when she moved closer to his bellybutton.

"MihihitsuhuHUHUHU," he tried again, but the rest of his words were drowned out in loud, surprised laughter as she used one hand to scratch at his belly button, the other scribbling around his torso. That warm feeling spread across his entire body, as if he was enveloped in a hug.

"Mimitsu? Nope, sorry! That's not me!" She teased, giggling to herself and moving her hands down to pinch at his thighs, not wanting to overwhelm the poor boy. "I guess I'll have to keep tickling you until you remember!"

He was back to high-pitched, soft titters at her gentle tickling. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he laughed; he was nearing his limit.

"Mihihitsuhuri!"

"Yes! Great job, sweetie! And who am I?"

"Thehehe Lohohove Hahahashihira!"

She grinned, quickly scribbling her fingers under his chin before ceasing her tickling. "Mhm! I think you finally learned your lesson!"

He released her sleeves, giggling quietly to himself for another moment before wiping his eyes and sitting up. Immediately, Mitsuri pulled him into a tight hug, unable to contain her excitement.

"That was so much fun!" She squealed, still holding him. "It wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No," he was smiling, but it was hard to tell if it was from her affection or a side effect of the tickling that had only just ended.

Her smile only grew. She tightened her grip ever so slightly, and they stayed there for a long moment, her arms cradling the smaller boy while his cheek rested against her shoulder. Until she began absentmindedly playing with his hair, making him perk up and lightly shove her back to remove himself from the hug.

"Can you show me how to braid hair?"

She gasped, delighted. "Of course!"

It was slow work, teaching him, but Mitsuri was patient and kind and a good teacher, and by the end of it, Muichiro could make a semi-decent braid that she was more than happy to wear. She even gave Muichiro one afterwards, kissing his forehead and allowing him to inspect his new appearance in the mirror.

Maybe, he thought, as Mitsuri happily chattered in his ear afterwards, surprisingly affectionate now that she knew Muichiro didn't mind, taking a break every once and a while wasn't a bad thing.

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