Gifts and roses..-*

Chapter 29 -

Sanemi arrived at the training grounds just as dawn bled over the horizon, well before the time he and Giyuu had agreed upon. But could you blame him? Sitting at home, restless and teetering on the edge of his own nerves, had been unbearable. He'd needed to get here, to be somewhere he could let the nervous energy bleed off, even if it meant pacing around an empty training ground for an hour.

The sun was still low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grounds, stretching like ghostly arms over the dirt. The faint pink light clung to the horizon, and in its quiet embrace, he forced himself to take a deep breath. It didn't do much to settle him, though. The air was cool, the world still waking, but his thoughts- rushing and unsettled- were already burning hot.

With each restless step, Sanemi felt an excitement tighten within him, colliding with a weird frustration. Mitsuri had told him that it was natural to feel conflicted, that it was all part of "figuring things out." He tried to believe her, forcing himself to push forward, hoping the tangled shame and discomfort gnawing at him would fade like she'd promised. But every time he caught himself thinking about Giyuu in that way, that treacherous, insistent feeling would crawl up his spine, leaving him at war with himself.

He wished desperately for it to go away. Needed it to go away. This dissonance that made him feel somehow wrong, that branded every warm thought about Giyuu with guilt- it frustrated him almost as much as it hurt. But he couldn't keep running from it, either. He wanted to overcome it, to finally let himself breathe in whatever this was, to stop seeing it as something shameful. Maybe today, being around Giyuu, he'd get a chance to sit with these feelings, let them settle in his mind until they felt... less alien. Until, somehow, he could see himself feeling this way without flinching.

He continued pacing, his feet crunching softly against the earth as he walked a restless, looping track. Every slight noise from the gate snapped his gaze back to the entrance, his heart stuttering as he anticipated seeing a familiar figure. But each time he looked, disappointment tumbled around his insides; it was either nothing or a faint trickle of morning breeze, rattling the branches above.

Sanemi turned on his heel, trying to work off the nervous energy. He'd carved a rough path into the dirt by now, back and forth, back and forth. He stopped, shot another glance at the gate, and- attempting to calm his fraying nerves- forced himself to stand still.

He lifted his hands and tugged at his haori. He adjusted it over his shoulders, ensuring it was perfectly even, though he'd already checked it half a dozen times. His fingers worked the fabric, twisting and pulling, before he straightened it again, dusting himself off in an attempt to look at least somewhat put-together.

'Why am I acting like some damn teenager? This is idiotic' he thought, a flicker of irritation rising before the anxious buzz overtook him again. 'It's just Giyuu. It's not like he'd even notice if the haori was crooked.'  But he continued fussing, knowing full well he couldn't shake the impulse.

He cast a glance skyward, squinting against the pale light creeping in, his brow furrowing as if he expected the dawn itself to tell him the time. How long has it been? An hour? Two? It felt like more. He ran his thumb along his weapon's hilt, double-checking its position. He knew it was secure, he'd checked it a dozen times already just as he did his haori, but the ritual calmed him, if only a little.

His eyes darted back to the gate, the thought creeping in that maybe Giyuu had forgotten, or worse- changed his mind. But he quickly pushed the thought away, not liking the feeling that grew the longer he entertained it.

He began muttering under his breath, shifting awkwardly as he tried to piece together something decent to say for when Giyuu arrived. "Hey, Giyuu. No... that's stupid, not his first name. Just- 'Mornin'? Or... hell." He huffed in irritation, clicking his tongue. Nothing he tried seemed right, and he could already imagine how he'd trip over his own words the second he saw Giyuu, just like that time with the broom. He grimaced just thinking about it.