The sound of the sliding door creaking open signaled Kyojuro's return, and as you looked up from where you were sitting, you'd see him standing in the doorway, a sheepish grin spread across his face.

His uniform was a mess- torn in a few places, dirt smeared on his sleeves, and his usually pristine hair sticking up in odd angles. He looked like he had just come out of a brawl with a dozen demons, which wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary.

“For you!” Rengoku declared, his voice booming with confidence despite the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. It was a small, crumpled bouquet of wildflowers clutched awkwardly in his hand. The petals were a bit crushed, the stems uneven, and some dirt still clung to a few leaves, as if they had been hastily plucked from the ground.