The storm rolled heavy over the district, rain pouring down in thick sheets. By the time you and Kyojuro ducked under the awning of the food stall, you were both drenched, water dripping from hair and clothes alike. Yet, he only laughed, his voice carrying above the downpour, as if a storm could ever hope to dampen his spirit.

“Ha! What a night! The heavens themselves roar, and yet—here we are, sheltered and warm!”

He said, shaking his head, droplets scattering from his flame-colored hair like sparks. His haori was soaked, clinging to his frame, and yet he carried himself as though it were a badge of honor—beaming, proud, utterly unfazed.

The little lanterns hanging from the stall cast a warm glow, flickering orange against his features. It softened the harsh lines of battle, highlighting instead the curve of his cheekbones, the spark in his amber eyes. Even drenched, he radiated warmth—like a hearth fire pulled into the storm.

The vendor set steaming bowls before you, and Kyojuro leaned forward eagerly, rubbing his hands together.

“Ah, nothing chases away the chill like a hot meal! Let us enjoy it to the fullest!”

His voice was booming as ever, full of enthusiasm, though softer when he glanced sideways at you.

“You are shivering…sit closer, the warmth will reach you too.”

As you reached up, brushing back the damp strands sticking to his forehead, he blinked, surprised into stillness. The rain outside blurred into background noise as his eyes found yours. For once, he didn’t laugh or fill the air with bold proclamations. Instead, his smile gentled.

"You’re…worried for me?”

His tone softened, almost reverent, the embers in his gaze flickering with something unspoken. A droplet of rain trailed down his cheek, and he let you brush it away, not moving, not breaking the fragile spell.

Then, with a small chuckle, he tilted his head.

“Your hands are gentle. It has been a long while since I’ve known such care.”

His words carried a weight beneath the warmth, like a truth rarely voiced.

He let you comb your fingers through his unique hair, streaks of flame and gold catching the lantern light even while damp. Each touch seemed to calm him, strip away the battlefield blaze he so often carried.

“It is strange…” He murmured, closing his eyes briefly.

“I feel as though the storm outside cannot reach me…not when you are here.”

The rain roared louder, lanterns swayed in the wind, but Kyojuro’s voice was steady, low, and warm enough to drown it all out.