Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

...

The hot water stung as it lashed across his back, washing away any impurities that clung to his skin from yesterday.

He lifted his face to the waterfall, steam filling the wooden room.

Grabbing a lavender scented soap, he slowly began to wash off his body, taking care to not miss a spot.

He turned, letting the shampoo be washed from his long silky black hair.

Running his fingers lightly through his hair, he let out a sigh, pulling his hair back and letting it fall around his shoulders as he leaned down to turn the water off.

The rain pounded heavy against the ceiling, the window panes rattling with the intensity of the wind. It was a strong winter storm.

He knew he wouldn’t get any customers tonight, as no one would brave a storm like this.

...

The cold rain stung as it lashed across his face, his vision blurring as the howling wind battered him. The world around him was pitch black, but he kept trudging on.

He had been separated from his squadron after a blockage in the path. He had tried to find a way around, but only managed to get himself lost in the unfamiliar territory.

The threat of wild animals lurking through the night had him on constant alert, even if he couldn’t see a few inches in front of his face.

In the long snowy distance ahead, he could barely make out the lights of a house. The thought crossed his mind of why a house would be up here in the bare mountains, and whether or not it was the storm playing tricks on his eyes. But either way, a small glimmer of hope lit up his cold heart at the lights, and he began to make his way up the steep rocky hill. Eventually he found a man made path leading up to the tall walls of what seemed to be a Japanese bathhouse. Large lanterns sat outside it’s walls, which swung violently in the wind, but gave off no sign of falling or breaking. The man sighed with relief, signs of life stirred in the paper thin walls. His legs buzzed with little to no feeling, his breath coming out in clouds as he persevered onward past the massive stone gates.

...

He sat in silence as the finely dressed woman combed through his long black hair, taking the utmost care and ease. He heard a quick rapping knock on the shōji, the woman getting up, letting in the guest.

One of the men on watch quickly entered, his voice frantic as he spoke.

“My lord, a stranger has appeared on our doorstep. He is close to death and freezing. He needs medical attention.”

He spoke in rapid Japanese, the man looking up from where he sat.

“A strange man, you say. Did you let him in?” The guard sentryman nodded, gesturing to lead out the man wrapped in silken robes.

The sentryman spoke more of the situation as they walked down the long corridor, “he appeared on the doorstep past the gate. His face was blue with frost, and we feared the worst. When the women were undressing him from his damp clothing, they uncovered many American weapons.”

Their pace was brisk, entering the main foyer. “Did he seem to be... hostile?”

The geisha spoke softly, never raising his voice, never showing a bit of emotion in his tone.

“No, my lord, only... cold and hungry. He seemed relieved when the guards answered the door, practically collapsing in their arms.”

They had finally entered the bathhouse, where the women stood around in fretted waiting, a pile of dark clothes and other items sat in the corner, the doors clouded with steam from the supposed hot bath they had pulled for the cold guest, in hopes it would prevent any further damage.

The women crowded around him, speaking in hushed and hesitant Japanese. He spoke in the same hushed tone, reassuring them with soft phrases said through soft lips.

They tugged at his sleeves, worriedly asking him questions like “is he going to hurt us?”and “what does he want?”

The geisha hushed them, saying “now now, my dears. This man is our guest. We mustn’t treat him any differently. Now please go fetch our delightable guest a warm dry robe for him to wear, yes?”

They nodded with respect, scurrying off.

He nodded to the watchman who stood close by, snapping his delicate fingers.

The watchman jumped, bringing one of the guns over to the man, who held it with a light touch, inspecting the darkened metal. He slid his hand up the barrel of the gun, eyeing the label on the side.

“It is indeed an American weapon. It is made of heavy metal, clunky and not very accurate. It would seem our guest is a lost soldier. Dealing with our policy, we mustn’t treat him any differently. But make note, we need him out as fast as possible.”

His tone had changed into one of seriousness.

...

The steamy water splashed over his head, the tingling sensation slowly leaving his body, the burning sensation of the hot water beginning to deep back into his skin.

He dunked his head under the water, resurfacing with a soft gasp of air.

He heard soft mumbles of a language he couldn’t understand outside, a soft voice catching his attention. It was different from the women’s voices he heard. It was calm and gentle.

He scoffed to himself, brushing the wet pieces of bleach blonde short hair out of his face. Slowly, he emerged from the hot water, pulling the soft towel around his body, drying off quickly.

He heard more shuffling, the sliding doors cracking open as one of the females of the house slipped in, offering him a very expensive looking robe. Feeling very underwhelmed to wear such an expensive looking garment, he kindly tried to deny the offer. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, but no thank you. If you’d give me back my clothes-“

The woman cut in, gesturing very excitedly to the robe again.

“Onegaishimasu! Totemo sutekina nunodesu! Anata no tame ni!” She spoke happily, trying to hand him the robe again.

He figured trying to speak to her was useless and accepted the robe with a smile.

...

The two muttered softly to each other, the watchman still sporting a worried look.

They both turned to look when the shōji slid open, revealing their guest.

The man walked out in the silken robes, messily tied around his body. The geisha dismissed the watchman, who bowed lightly and ran off back to his post.

The dark haired man turned to the other, a warm smile gracing his pale complexion,

“Yōkoso, honored guest.” He extended his hands outward, taking a step toward the confused man.

“I take it you do not speak Japanese?” The geisha spoke again, his accent still heavy in his English, but it was better than most others who worked for him.

The man shook his head, a look of relief washing over his expression, “I only speak English. I uh... appreciate all you have done for me so far...” he chuckled nervously, running his hands through his still damp hair.

“My Gādo tells me you were in dire condition.” The geisha continued, tucking his delicate hands into his long sleeves, folding his arms. Before the other could reply, he spoke again, “tell me, soldier. What are you doing out on such a... dangerous night?” He tilted his head slightly, his body language showing no threat. Or any emotion at all.

“Now, hold on there. It’s not what you think-“ the man tried to approach the other, his hand raising in a poiniant manner, but he stopped when the geisha held out his hand, his gaze suddenly turning cold.

“You are tired, soldier. I will allow you to abide here tonight, but by tomorrow morning, You will be gone. The Ladies will lead you to your room.” He turned away from the man, glancing back only to say, ”and try not to be loud.” Before he walked away, his robe swishing behind him.

As if on que, the women from before entered, tugging at the other’s robe, leading him down the opposite hallway.

He glanced back, catching a glimpse of the black haired man, his skin prickling.

Chapter Text

He sat on the cot, staring out the fogged window, the rain letting up some. The wind still howled outside, rattling the windows.

He was beginning to worry. Worry for his watchmen, his women, his own genkan

(home). He worried constantly. For their safety and for the safety of those around him. The new guest was an additional problem. Eventually every child goes looking for their lost soldier boy. And when they find their toy in the hands of another child, there would be war.

He shook his head, clearing it of the awful thought. He would deal with the concequences later. Right now he needed rest.

He lay his head down on the soft plush pillow, gazing out the window again.

His eyes slowly fluttered shut, his mind wandering off into darkness as sleep fell over him.

...

When he woke up, his first instinct was to look out of the window. He glanced around the unfamiliar room, sitting up in the process. He rested his gaze on the darkened window, wondering what time it was. Rain still pounded on the window and the wind howled outside.

He gingerly stood up, suddenly crying out when his ankle gave underneath him.

“Shit...” he muttered softly, massaging the inflamed joint. He must have pulled it or something during last night.

He rubbed his chin, the stubble he seemed to gather overnight scratching loudly. He snapped his eyes to look as one of the women slipped through the sliding door, her hands folded neatly in front of her abdomen.

“The master of the house requests your presence.” She muttered in her best English, bowing her head steeply to the man. He nodded back, trying to get up again, but overall failing, only ending up upsetting the swolen ankle again.

Eventually he managed to get up and limp his way down the hallway, keeping a steady hand on the wall at all times. The woman moving ahead of him walked at a brisk pace, looking back every once in a while.

Eventually they reached the large sliding doors, images of koi and bamboo littered the paper thin lining. Symbolism of power that would go right over his uncultured head. The woman rapped against the wood, pushing the doors open when she heard a light call of “Hairu.” From inside.

He blinked, surprised at the state of the room he walked into. It was nice, to say the least. The floor was padded beneath his feet, the walls were covered in a large painting. A simple painted valleys and mountains stretched along its surface, leading up to large floor-to-ceiling windows, showing an equally black and dreary outside as his had.

The man from last night, as he blew presumed was the “master of the house” now sat cross legged before a table so low to the ground he wasn’t sure if it would be described as a table or a floor mat. He glanced up at the other’s entry, his face falling for a second at the sight of the guest limping, before its’ neutral facade returned.

“Kizutsukeru?” He turned to the woman, tilting his head in a questioning manner, before quickly dismissing her.

She bowed shortly, gesturing to the table.

“Sit.” She ordered him, before briefly walking out.

He looked at the other, his eyebrows raising.

“Please, do not mind the lady. Sit, guest. You must be hungry.”

The dark-haired male gestured to the colorful pillows around the “table”.

(Don’t worry we’ll get names soon enough)

He plopped down on the pillow, crossing his legs, as it seemed proper.

“What is the matter?” He looked up at the addresser, wringing his hands in a nervous habit. “Hm?”

“Your leg. Not normal limp?” His words were placed out of order, and confusing.

“Oh, I guess I must have pulled something last night.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Another nervous tick.

“Pulled? You... pulled your leg?”

The other muttered in confusion,

“I mean, I hurt the muscle in my leg somehow.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the other’s confusion of American sayings.

...

He felt his facade give way to a scowl, stupid Americans. His ailment would only mean he had to stay longer. Not including the fact it was still raining hard outside, it would be a death sentence to send the soldier out into the elements in his current condition.

“Ah.” He muttered as one of the ladies slid open the shōji, carrying a platter of tea.

He felt himself relax.

“Would you care for some Tea, dear soldier?” He offered a forced smile, a trait he’d learned when dealing with guests. Although it wasn’t often he sat and talked with the guests.

“It’s Lewis...” he muttered, “and no, thanks. I’d rather prefer something stronger, like coffee if you have it.” His words were in a kind tone, but he didn’t like how “Lewis” spoke them. He had no authority here. Ordering the others around.

“I’m sorry? We do not carry such... drink, Lewis...” the name rolled off his tongue, feeling wrong in his mouth.

He took the tea from the lady, already to his perfected standards, and stirred it around slowly, the small metal spoon scraping around the fancy China piece. (China in Japan. Heh)

It was grating in the silence of the room.

Chapter Text

Dish after steaming dish was served before the two, bowls and plates of strange looking food laid out before Lewis.

Once it seemed everything was out, the other picked up one thing Lewis knew, chopsticks. Unluckily for him, he could not use chopsticks for the life of him.

He glanced up at the unnamed host, his hands pressed together in a prayer motion, muttering the words “ititakimas-“ quietly and almost to himself, before dropping his hands down and picking up His chopsticks.

‘Is... is that salmon? Salmon for breakfast? Japanese culture is so weird....’ he thought, now facing the dilemma of how he would eat any of this.

...

He glanced up at Lewis, the man in obvious distress. He sighed inwardly, stupid Americans.

“Is something the matter Lewis-San?” He picked up a piece of nori, scooping rice into the soy sauce soaked seaweed, with the utmost expertise.

“Uhm...” he muttered nervously, letting out a nervous chuckle, “I can’t use chopsticks...”

he sighed softly, standing up. He gingerly walked over to the other side of the table, his kimono swaying behind him gracefully.

He folded his legs as he sat down next to Lewis, the man shifting nervously, their legs brushing at the closeness for the situation.

“First of, you’re holding them wrong.” He motioned to how he was holding his, his thumb tucked neatly around the wooden stick.

“Take the bowl in the left hand,” he instructed, picking up the bowl of rice, and demonstrating the proper table etiquette.

He sighed in distaste as Lewis fumbled with the chopsticks, eventually placing his hand over Lewis’, the man stopping whatever he was doing immediately.

“You’re not doing what I’m telling you.

Your position is wrong. Which is why you’re struggling.”

He took the chopsticks from his hand, nimbly fixing his position and placing the wooden sticks back into a proper placement.

“Try it now. Bend your finger to pick it up.”

He demonstrated himself, picking up the bowl, bringing it to his face instead of leaning down.

He watched the other intently as he struggled to use the utensils. Eventually he was able to messily maneuver a piece of salmon into his mouth, giving a little fist bump as he did it.

He chuckled, covering up his mouth with a delicate hand, “see? It wasn’t that hard now was it?”

They sat in silence after that, using the chopsticks becoming easier the longer he tried. After a minute or so, Lewis turned to the unnamed man, contemplating whether saying what he wanted to would be a good idea. Placing the bowl he was holding down, he took a small breath, drawing the attention of the other.

“So. You keep mentioning these... guests? What do you mean by that?” He kept his voice level, trying to not hint at any underlying issues.

His dark eyes caught Lewis’ gaze, his expression calm and level again.

“This establishment is, what you Americans would call, a bathhouse. Our culture calls it an Okiya. It is a place where my guests come to get away from the bustling city. For entertainment, or perhaps a relaxing evening. It is usually a very busy place, but with this large storm rolling through, I doubt any guest would brave it.” He said poiniently, staring into the milky soup he held.

“You are my guest, Lewis. And I intend to treat you no different.” He made a statement to put what he held down as if to cut off the conversation. He stood at his words, turning to leave.

“Wait-“ Lewis called after him, standing up himself with some difficulty, “could you at least tell me what your name is?”

He paused where he stood, his gaze hidden again. “You may call me Ren. I shall send someone to help you with your injury. Good day, Lewis.”

With that he exited the room, leaving Lewis alone again.

Chapter Text

The woman pulled at his dark hair, paying no mind to the discomfort she may be causing Ren. With nimble fingers she flipped his hair up and tied it in a loose bun with colored cloth strip.
Since no guests would arrive today he took little precautions in styling his outfit or makeup, putting on little to none.
The rain still persisted outside, dripping down the glass panes. The electricity in the air took its toll on his body, making his joints and bones ache with stiffness.
Deciding a hot bath would soothe the persistent pain, he waved off the woman who fretted to fix his cuffs, giving her short orders to prep a bath for him.

His ankle throbbed continuously, putting him in a state of discomfort and annoyance.
He glanced around the room, shadows crossing the panes of thin paperlike surfaces of the women who were on a constant move. Soon his mind wandered until it could wander no further. He became restless just sitting around. From the look he got of the building, it seemed rather large, and he figured it would be in and of his best interest to explore around.
Grabbing the wooden crutch one of the woman had left him with, he pushed open the screen door and began his personal tour.

Steam blanketed the wooded room. Ren sunk into the lavender scented water, his skin prickling. He let a soft sigh escape his lips, feeling his muscles relax ten fold.
A sudden creak of the floorboards caught his attention, but assuming it was one of the ladies, he let his eyes slip shut, another sigh escaping his lips as he sunk down further, the water creeping up his neck.
He heard the shoji slide open, his eyes snapping open again. Instead of seeing one of the women with, say, a towel or perhaps some perfume, his eyes laid on the scraggly, disheveled guest, Lewis.
Ren felt his cheeks heat up under the man’s eyes upon his skin.

He blamed it on the bath.

“Uhm... hey.” Lewis cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. His face morphed into a quick grimace at the movement before leveling again. Ren snapped out of his embarrassment, quickly speaking up,
“You... aren’t resting.” He gestured to Lewis’ current state, his crutch he was holding. “Why are you not in your room as I instructed?”
Lewis tensed up, suddenly getting defensive, “well I must have missed the memo then. I don’t remember you saying anything to me.”
Ren made a noise close to a snort, which made his throat hurt.
“I thought my intentions were clear.”
Lewis opened his mouth to retort, then closed it, folding his arms over his chest.
He stood in silence for a moment, unsure of how to answer.
“I... got bored. Ya can’t expect me to stay in one place for long.”
They both fell silent, the sounds of lapping water and the rain cascading down the roof filling the stillness.
Ren spoke up first, straightening up in the bath, “How is it?”
“Pardon?”
“Your leg. How is it?”
Lewis shrugged, his eyes darting around the room. Looking everywhere but Ren.
“S’fine. Kinda sore. But fine, I guess.”
Ren nodded to himself mostly, his eyes scanning the uptight soldier. He noticed his hurt leg trembling slightly, locked in one place from where he stood.
“It pains you. Your leg.” Ren noted, gaining Lewis’ attention.
“The water is warm. It should soothe the stiffness. I will ask one of the maidens for something to help with the pain.”
He noticed the light pink tingeing Lewis’ cheeks at the suggestion.
Ren chuckled to himself at the man’s nervous behavior,
“I can leave, if you feel uncomfortable.”
“No-... no, it’s fine.”
Lewis still stood, unsure of what to do.
“So... do I just...”
“Oh.” Ren felt a smirk play across his lips. Silly foreigners.
“There’s a back room, just through those doors. You may change in there if you like.”
Lewis quickly hurried through the doors as fast as he could with an injured leg.
Ren watched him leave, slipping deeper into the water again, letting his eyes slip closed.

Lewis slipped off the robe he was given, along with his undergarments. He suddenly felt self conscious of his body, fighting against the urge to cover up again. Taking a deep breath, he mustered up enough courage and left the small back room.

He felt the water ripple around him, queueing that Lewis had entered the bath.