💔Without You.. (UzuRen)

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!!THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SH AND MENTIONS OF CHARACTER DEATH, IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THAT THEN I HIGHLY RECCOMMEND SKIPPING THIS CHAPTER!!

With that, i hope you enjoy this chapter <3



A whole month passed after Rengoku's death, and Tengen had spiraled. He couldn't handle the pain that he was feeling, all the emotions flowing in him, because the feeling of losing the love of your life before they even knew you loved them was heartbreaking. He wanted to tell Kyojuro his feelings for him. It was just Right person...Wrong time..

He was bedridden, sleep deprived and starved. He couldn't bear to get up and live the day without his one ray of sunshine. He couldn't bear to sleep and end up seeing him in his dreams knowing that he wasn't really there. And most importantly, he couldn't bear the sight, smell or thought of eating without Kyojuro, who absolutely enjoyed eating with him.

To Tengen, this was worse than when he lost his siblings, and his wives could notice something was wrong. They tried their best to cheer him up and get him to show them some attention but all he did was roll over in bed and nudge them away

They'd try to persuade him to eat, beg him, and force him. But it was futile, he'd shut down completely. He had lost a lot of weight from this, his muscles which were once prominent were slimming down, both from poor nutrition and low physical activity

They ended up begging him to cook for them, just to get him out of bed and moving. After a lot of begging and persuading, he reluctantly got up and agreed. His long unkept hair was flowing all over the place and all up in his face and his clothes hadn't been changed since he fully shut down.

In this whole month, he'd only got up to cook for his wives 8 times, and this was not gonna be the only month of this..

He had started to chop ingredients, trying his hardest not to break down into tears midway, and to do other stuff with that knife in his hands..

It had come time to heat up what he was preparing...

He stuck out his arm and held it against the hot metal. Then he counted, wincing in pain.

"5...4...3...2...1..."

It was a whisper under his shaky breath, tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes. He had a couple burn scars on his arms and hands, around the same number as the times he got up for his wives to cook.

The newly acquired burn was already red and swelling and a small amount of blood was coming from the wound. Most of these burns were on his wrist, so it was easy to cover up with his gloves.

He used this to concentrate the emotional pain he was feeling into a physical pain, to prevent him from reaching his breaking point quicker.

It helped him, even though he knew it wasn't healthy, he did it anyway. He continued to prepare what he was making, holding in his strong emotions.

After he was done, he served it up in three separate dishes and gave them to his wives, then headed back to his room.

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