who needs help tokens? [private]

[munechika]

 

Ah, for all he could do during the day, night battles certainly wore him down. It'd been the last fight of the area, and all of his troops had been taken out before a wakizashi dealt him a severe blow. It was only fate they never targeted him again, and Ichigo only had his little brothers to thank for the victory they'd accomplished.

 

"Ichi-nii, will you be okay?"

 

"Do you need any help being repaired?"

 

"I'll get your futon ready!"

 

Perhaps embarking on a sortie right before the sun goes down had not been the wisest choice. Ichigo's body ached, and he was thankful that the darkness of both the sky and his clothes hid the stain of blood seeping through the fabric. It wouldn't do to worry his precious siblings more than he had to. His smile was strained and tired, but it wasn't an effort he was reluctant to make.

 

"No, I'll be fine. I can't tuck you all in tonight, but I'll be better by the morning. You need your rest, run along to your rooms or you'll worry Master too." They protested of course, he could see the concern as much as he could hear it, but that meant he could detect the fatigue as well. One by one they eventually filtered out to their rooms in the citadel, and Ichigo was finally free to head towards the repair room.

 

Normally Master helped with the process, but they seemed exhausted tonight as well. It would be best if he handled this on his own, even if it might take longer than he'd anticipated. First came stripping off his armor (he winces, a muscle strained where skin was broken). Then unclipping his sash...

 

The sound of the partition sliding open caused Ichigo to look up immediately.

 

"Who's...?" And then the figure became clearer. "Oh, Tsurumaru. Are you in need of repairs as well?" He was certain they'd been on the last sortie of the day, but it wasn't unheard of for swords to wait to tend to their injuries. It got quite full throughout the day, especially when tachi like themselves were in need.

[Cyncii]

 

As the last sortie of the day passed by, Tsurumaru out of all the swords left relatively unscathed - he wasn't targeted as much, he supposed, as he felt as though he had to engage others in battle himself the majority of the time. Sure, there was a strong oodachi that got in his way, but he managed to slip by and defeat them with only a decent slash to his left arm as a parting gift. The white-haired tachi thought getting repaired was unnecessary, as his health was still in reasonable shape. He remarked to himself that the blood staining his normally pure white attire made him look like a crane.. he wished he could stay like that, but in a less painful way.

 

Tsurumaru intended on traveling to his room following the sortie, but seeing a couple young wakizashi scuttling away, he picked up on an interesting tidbit of information.

 

"I hope Ichigo is gonna be alright.. he should've let us help him."

 

"I'm sure he'll be okay, he said so!"

 

From what he could hear, it seemed as though Ichigo had sustained some rather serious injuries. Tsurumaru grew concerned, as he should be, but as the other male was a friend he felt the obligation to walk towards the repair room and check on him to see if he was in good enough shape to be by his lonesome. He could use some company, he thought, so he was convinced that he should stick around anyways and help him out in any way he could. If Ichigo was healthy enough, he supposed he could have a little bit of fun with him as well, to loosen up the other tachi and make him feel more relaxed.

 

Sliding open the partition, Tsurumaru stepped inside the room and slid it back to a close behind him. "Mm? Oh, no, I don't require any fixing up. You look like you need it, though," he responded softly, a smile creasing his face. The white-haired male stepped closer to Ichigo, bringing up a hand to his own neck to fidget with his hood. "Do you need any help there?" Tsurumaru asked, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly.

[munechika]

 

Ichigo had been insistent on refusing the help of his brothers—they needed their rest and seeing him in his condition would surely worry them too much to allow for sleep. And he supposed a part of it was his own brotherly pride, unwilling to let himself reveal such a weakness to the small swords who looked up to him. In that sense, a polite refusal was working its way to the tip of his tongue, thoughts of not wanting to burden Tsurumaru or take away from his rest either floating about in his head.

 

But then, if the other sword wasn't here for his own repairs, why was he here?

 

"I'm glad to see you in optimal condition," he began. "I thought I would fare well enough in Ikedaya, but I ended up being more of a burden than help. It's a relief I didn't break." He thought of the maintenance needed for his injuries, the clothes he'd have to shed then the cleaning and bandaging. And then he imagined doing it all on his own. Perhaps in his bravado, he'd overestimated himself.

 

Hoping Tsurumaru could see, Ichigo flashed a sheepish smile back. "If you could help, I would appreciate it." He ran a hand down the front of his jacket, and then looked back at his companion. "It's a bit embarrassing, but my clothes have copious amounts of buttons. Could you...?" His injuries hadn't spared his shoulder, which made self-care increasingly more difficult. He must remember to thank Tsurumaru later, this might not have been possible without him now.

[Cyncii]

 

That soft smile remained, even as Ichigo told him how much of a burden he was and that he brushed by defeat in Ikedaya. "I suppose there weren't the right conditions for you out there - there's no shame in that. Perhaps tomorrow will prove to be more fruitful for you," Tsurumaru replied, batting his eyelashes for a moment. He didn't know what he would do if his companion broke.. he wouldn't have been able to manage it.

 

I'm glad you offered, Tsurumaru thought with a tiny, brief smirk as the other tachi requested that he unbuttoned his clothing. He would, gladly. Stepping even closer to Ichigo, deft hands began to work on the plethora of buttons of the other male's jacket. The whole time, Tsurumaru did not look up at Ichigo but instead focused his gaze on the buttons. Once done, he assisted him in removing the jacket, taking it in his arms and promptly folding it up. He set it down on the floor then returned to Ichigo, where Tsurumaru's eyes met with the buttons of his undershirt. Ichigo might be even more embarrassed by this, but the white-haired tachi didn't bother to ask for his opinion and permission.

 

One by one, the buttons of the blood-stained shirt were undone. Eventually, Tsurumaru could see in better detail the injuries that had been inflicted upon Ichigo. But more importantly, at least to himself, he could rest his gaze on Ichigo's bare chest and smiled to himself that he would have the honor of cleaning it up.

 

"I couldn't bear to let you suffer over here while I got my beauty sleep.. so I wanted to help you. Or, at least just keep you company," Tsurumaru explained, humming ever so lightly as he ran a finger over the skin just above one of the buttons to Ichigo's shirt. All the while, his gaze met up with Ichigo's.

[munechika]

 

Ichigo gave the other sword a grateful smile. While in the frontlines, it was easy to feel powerful and sturdy, swiping at their enemies one by one. But sitting in repairs covered in chips and scrapes and wounds, he found that confidence was harder to locate.

 

He was thankful Tsurumaru was willing to lend him a hand at all, such a simple task he should have been able to do himself. Ichigo was used to assisting his brothers with their uniforms, but having it done for him was admittedly more awkward than he expected. Should he... look at Tsurumaru? Maybe not? Gold eyes flickered back and forth, until the sword decided he might as well close his eyes all together. The press of Tsurumaru's fingers was perceivable through the fabric, and Ichigo had a general awareness of his progress.

 

The tachi took the chance to open to his eyes and assisted as he could in sliding his arms out of his jacket. The air was a lot cooler through the thin layer of his undershirt, but Ichigo suppressed the urge to shiver. Was Tsurumaru going to...? Yes, yes he was. Ichigo watched his progress this time, and eventually his gaze rose and Tsurumaru was looking directly at him. And they were very close.

 

Oh.

 

Ichigo could feel his face flush, but his mind grappled with the memory of what Tsurumaru had been saying. Wanting to help him... keep him company... "Ah," his mouth began moving, "h-how did you know I was here, by the way?" He'd been wanting to know earlier, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself to ask. And now... it had arrived. He just hoped the catch in his voice wasn't obvious.

[Cyncii]

 

That blush.. why, that was so cute. He'd expected as much to appear on Ichigo's face, what with them being in such close proximity to each other. Tsurumaru didn't appear to care about how close they were, as his face didn't flush and he continued to unbutton the other sword's shirt without his hands trembling in anticipation.

 

"Oh, ah, a couple of your brothers were scurrying off to their rooms when I heard them talk about you, that you needed repairs," Tsurumaru replied, undoing the last button of the undershirt. "I'm glad that I came, otherwise you likely wouldn't be in tip-top shape when morning arrives." With that, the white-haired tachi helped Ichigo slide off his undershirt and, like the jacket, folded it up in a neat fashion and placed it on top of it.

 

"Hmm, you're really cute, with your face like that," Tsurumaru commented, giggling quietly, regaining eye contact with the other male. He took one small step closer, getting to the point where they were mere centimeters apart. "Is there anything else that requires removal..? Or.. all you all set there?" In a way, the tachi was implying that he was willing to remove the other's trousers if needed. He wasn't at all embarrassed at the thought, but still, Tsurumaru's cheeks grew a barely noticeable shade of pink.

[munechika]

 

Ah, his brothers, of course. Ichigo felt a twinge of guilt at thinking a safe topic that he could think about to keep his mind off of the proximity he was painfully aware of, but he convinced himself he was simply worried for his siblings. Just as he usually was. "Were they okay? My brothers, were they worrying too much? I wanted them to be able to relax before bed so—"

 

"You're really cute, with your face like that."

 

Ichigo froze mid-sentence. "I'm what?"

 

He'd heard the other just fine, but somehow the words came tumbling out. He could feel the heat returning, and oh that was really close. Tsurumaru was only trying to help, he reminded himself; he had to pull it together. Composure composure, he dealt with tantous and wakizahis every day he could gracefully accept the assistance of another tachi.

 

Then Tsurumaru asked about the rest of his clothes, and Ichigo thought, Or maybe not.

 

"No—I mean, it was mostly my upper body." Which was still bleeding, actually, and the ache in his shoulder was staring to come back. "I've hurt my shoulder. If it's not too much trouble, could you help clean off the blood?" If he could get himself worked up over cleaning wounds, Ichigo felt he had a lot of self reflecting to do.

[Cyncii]

 

"Mostly, you say?" Tsurumaru murmured, taking a step back and listening to everything else Ichigo had to tell him. He held a somewhat disappointed look in his eyes, that he was unable to do what he wanted, but of course, the tachi's health took priority. Tsurumaru could see the blood, after all - that shoulder desperately needed some attention.

 

"Not a problem at all," he spoke in a more quiet tone, walking over towards a bucket filled with reasonably warm water with a dry cleaning cloth at its side. Tsurumaru's breath hitched a little as he picked up the bucket, seeing that his injured arm wasn't all that pleased by his actions. Whatever, he thought - he'd take care of that later. He'd also picked up some bandages, knowing he would have to wrap the other sword up once he was cleaned up.

 

Carrying the supplies over towards Ichigo, he set them down near the other's feet and the tachi moved directly behind him to begin the process of cleaning up the beaten-up shoulder. Tsurumaru drenched the cloth in the bucket, squeezing out the excess water. He straightened back up, gingerly running the cloth over the bloodied shoulder,

 

"Your brothers.. they seemed just fine. They were worried, of course, but they appeared to be confident that you would make it out of this alright," Tsurumaru spoke, addressing the tachi's worries concerning his brothers. Once done with the shoulder, he moved on to other areas without asking to do so first. Rinse, bandage, repeat.. he was taking his time, ensuring that his companion was well taken care of.

[munechika]

 

Ichigo's body tensed at the first contact of damp cloth against his torn skin. Honestly he remembered where this injury came from, and it was catapults rather than an enemy. His troops fended off the archers and the riflemen, but he was left to bear the rest of the initial assault on his own.

 

He couldn't possibly admit that to a fellow tachi though, even if it was Tsurumaru.

 

As much as his younger siblings came to depend on him, Ichigo was slowly realizing that he came to depend on them just as much. Thinking of their safety and wellbeing helped distract him from the pain, and he could even crack a smile in response. "Did they? I'm," a wince cut off his words accompanied by a grunt of pain, "I-I'm confident I will as well, with your help."

Gritting his teeth and bearing the pain worked for a little while, but by the time Tsurumaru set to bandaging his shoulder, Ichigo had resorted to bringing a fist to his mouth. He forced his jaw to relax however as the other moved on to his torso, and with his good arm he placed a hand over Tsurumaru's as he reached to wash a gash on his chest. "I'm sorry, but do you think we could continue sitting down...?"

[Cyncii]

 

Tsurumaru mentally winced at the other tachi's suffering, wondering if he was being too rough with his treatment of him. And so he tried to be more gentle, but he was still getting the same reactions.. he was upset, realizing the extent of Ichigo's injuries. It made him all the more determined to fix him up in the shortest amount of time possible with the least amount of time.

"Oh, of.. o-of course we could," Tsurumaru responded, helping Ichigo down to the floor and, afterwards, proceeded to sit down on his knees in front of him. There the white-haired male continued to work on Ichigo's injuries, washing the gash on the other's chest. He'd drawn himself closer to Ichigo than before, perhaps an inch or two, but even Tsurumaru did not take notice of it. In reality, he'd felt safer, warmer, the closer he was to Ichigo.

"This should be the last of it, from what I can see. Tell me if there's anything I missed," Tsurumaru spoke softly, bandaging up the chest wound. He tried to avoid looking Ichigo in the eyes, feeling a tiny bit awkward after his previous advance on him.

Finished, Tsurumaru drew back and placed his barely bloody hands on his lap. Finally he looked up into Ichigo's eyes, a look of pure concern as he asked, "Do you.. feel any better? D-Did I do alright?"

[munechika]

 

He winced and his breath hitched, but slowly Ichigo adjusted to the pain. If he closed his eyes and focused on the pressure of Tsurumaru's hands, the concern and care being plastered over his body tighter than any bandage, then he could even call it cathartic. His body began to relax, his shoulders sag, and golden eyes only blinked open once the other sword was finished.

 

Ichigo rolled a shoulder experimentally; he wouldn't get better instantly but it was evident his recovery would be swift. Perhaps his own optimism clouded his thoughts, but he truly felt it when he replied, "You did wonderfully—perfectly. Thank you, I really couldn't have done this without you, Tsurumaru."

 

Smiling, Ichigo reached out and rubbed the top of the other sword's head. For all his earlier embarrassment, the tachi swelled with affection and he couldn't help relating this to how he felt with his brothers. Patting their heads was something he did often, and—

 

It felt wrong.

 

(He didn't want this.)

 

It felt too familial, and his chest began throbbing again. His wounds were no longer bothering him though.

 

The idea formed in his mind, and with it his expression melted from kind smiles to a heavy neutral. Ichigo's hand slowed, and it slid farther and farther down until he was cupping Tsurumaru's cheek.

 

Magnetism wasn't unheard of with steel swords. But in his human form, Ichigo swore he felt the same pull drawing him closer to his companion.

 

"I would say to push me away, but I don't think my shoulder could take it." His breath ghosted over Tsurumaru's lips as he whispered, "So tell me to stop if you don't want this." So close but so far, he'd taken ten strides but Ichigo wouldn't go further. The small space between them would be for Tsurumaru to close.

[Cyncii]

 

Tsurumaru sighed in relief at the other sword's response, happy that Ichigo genuinely appreciated his help. He seemed to have relaxed some time into being bandaged up, and that was all that mattered. Ichigo was going to have an expeditious recovery, he was sure of it.

 

The white-haired tachi almost flinched, however, as a hand touched the top of his head and began messing up his hair. Tsurumaru didn't mind it, really, and his cheeks turned pink and his lips formed into a soft little smile.

 

His eyes went wide and he blinked rather rapidly at Ichigo, however, as the hand slowly wandered down to cup his cheek. In turn, Tsurumaru's cheeks turned more red than pink and he almost wanted to back away at how sudden this change was. First, Ichigo was rather sheepish, but then he took quite the brave step by drawing closer, close enough to where their lips were so close to each other. Still, it wasn't brave enough, and Tsurumaru felt pressured to take that next step. He didn't mind doing that, though.

 

"I won't say a word," Tsurumaru murmured in response, his smile reappearing but soon fading as he leaned in closer. His eyes closed as his lips touched Ichigo's, parting them and hopefully encouraging the other male to do the same. He didn't think much of it, but quietly, Tsurumaru slowly and quietly wandered a hand down to brush its fingers against Ichigo's thigh. There, it rested, enjoying the warmth of Ichigo's leg.

[munechika]

 

Foolish thoughts were running through his head. A response along the lines of but you're using words right now threatened to leave his tongue, and it was a small grace Tsurumaru stopped him before he could say something so embarrassing.

 

And then he was thinking about how soft Tsurumaru's lips were, and how it was quite a strange description to use for a blade. Irony, he believed it was called.

 

Such useless wonderings floated around his head, and for a few drawn out seconds, Ichigo was static processing them all. He had made the first move, so why his heart racing? Why was he losing his head now? Maybe this was a mistake—

 

But Tsurumaru's hand was warm on his thigh, and slowly Ichigo forced his worries away. He let his eyes slide shut, and at the belated realization that the other sword had parted his lips, Ichigo hesitantly did the same. The feather-light press of his fingers against Tsurumaru's cheek became firmer, and it had as much to do with his caution ebbing away as it did with attempting to keep himself grounded.

 

Ichigo pressed forward, and he did his best to ignore the way his hand trembled as he softly deepened the kiss. He didn't want to go too far, he didn't want to make Tsurumaru uncomfortable, and while in hindsight his partner's willingness was highly transparent, Ichigo couldn't help but seek to ensure he didn't mess it all up.

[Cyncii]

 

It was adorable how shy and hesitant his partner was, with the trembling hand and the unwillingness to take the next steps. But Tsurumaru commended him for parting his lips and deepening the kiss, though it wasn't enough in his eyes. The white-haired male fantasized about being pinned to the floor and violated, but obviously Ichigo was nothing like that. He loved the innocence, however, so it was fine - more than fine.

 

Tsurumaru uttered a small, muffled, and pleasured noise as the movements of their lips continued, eyes open a crack and the fingers on Ichigo's thigh pressing down more forcefully on the fabric. They grabbed what they could of it with a rather tight hold, pulling at it as if Tsurumaru wanted more out of the other tachi. He was trying to egg him on, but he didn't think anything physical would do the trick. And so, he barely broke away and rid himself of the promise he made, quietly moving his lips to Ichigo's ear.

 

"Don't be so coy," he whispered, placing an affectionate little kiss upon Ichigo's cheek. Tsurumaru drew back afterwards, though he remained incredibly close and the grip on the other sword's trousers lingered but loosened a fair amount. "I need you," he continued quietly, cheeks flaring up with a deep reddish hue. Though he appeared embarrassed yet desperate, it was simply a ploy to hopefully achieve his desires, to get Ichigo to do what he oh so wanted.

 

Tsurumaru almost whined as he went in to kiss the other tachi once more, needy and passionate. He shifted a bit closer in the process, trying his best not to cause his partner any harm.