Kokutan || Aftercare

Setting: Kokushibou and Demon King Tanjirou take a bath after a some love-making.

Kokushibou found it unnecessary at first. Binding and repairing oneself was common, of course, but even he did not bathe his wife when he was human. Why is it then that Tanjirou insisted, with bated breath and a valorous declaration, that it was required for the two of them to do so?

He remembers the day Tanjirou said that; he was redressing himself to depart after they had finished another session of lustful proclivities. Slipping on his zori, his King decided to step in front of the sliding door to stop him.

The image of Tanjirou wearing nothing but his Kokushibou’s kimono was still burned into his retinas.

“Where are you going?” Tanjirou demanded. Kokushibou stood and slipped his scabbard into the side of his sash.

“…A bath.” Kokushibou replied.

“I’m coming with you.” Tanjirou told him with puffed cheeks, “Let’s go together.”

If Tanjirou declared it be so, Kokushibou had no retort. He said nothing as Tanjirou led the way.

They arrived shortly after to a private bathhouse behind a temple. The space was small, but intimate under its gabled roof; Kokushibou maintained his demonic face and Tanjirou marvelously displayed the flame markings all over his skin while stripping himself again. When Kokushibou too takes off his clothing and leaves the anteroom, he did not expect for Tanjirou to be sliding the hinoki bath stool in front of him.

“Let me wash you.” Tanjirou beamed while patting the vacant seat, “Is that okay?”

“…Is that required of me?” Kokushibou asked, perplexed. He’d have thought they would go their separate ways. “I am capable of doing it myself.”

“It’s not.” Tanjirou said, unaffected by the implied rejection, “But, I want to wash you. Sit down, please?”

Kokushibou sat down.

He secured the towel over his waist and leaned forward when he felt two hands run over his scalp. A pleasant current of warmth makes him a prisoner to this seat, growing more defenseless as Tanjirou calmly poured steamed water on his red tipped, black hair.

“Are you okay?” His King asked unprovokedly; Kokushibou, in this utterly relaxed state, smiled as he replied.

“I am fine, Tanjirou.”

Now the image of Kokushibou smiling wasn’t ever going to leave Tanjirou’s mind. “Do the marks hurt at all?”

Because Tanjirou loved to mark Kokushibou as his, as did Kokushibou. “They do not.”

That was all that needed to be said. The rest of his cleaning is spent in silence; Tanjirou carefully undoes the knots in Kokushibou’s hair. He treads carefully with each digit to ensure that once it was dry, there would be no soap left in it. It’s hard to maintain these long locks, Tanjirou thinks, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he pushes Kokushibou’s hair to the side to scrub his back, the long lashes, which were Tanjirou’s doing, were still sore and voraciously red. Tanjirou pushes the sponge against them gently. Kokushibou growled when Tanjirou exerted more force to remove the dried blood, though no complaint fell from his lips.

“All done.” Tanjirou said, handing the sponge to Kokushibou. He took it and washed the rest of his body.

Koksuhibou sat Tanjirou down next, and kneeled.

Tanjirou’s hair was deceitful; while looking easy to maintain, it was anything but that. Its length may be less than Kokushibou’s, yet it had double the amount of knots and tangles it could get itself into. Tanjirou whined loudly when Kokushibou was pulling against them; he almost missed the question Kokushibou asked him.

“…Are you okay?”

Ligature marks spanning from Tanjirou’s back down to his wrists, Kokushibou was never known to hold back his feral desires.

“Yeah!” Tanjirou turned around and pointed to his neck. “Do you think I’d be able to hide it well with a scarf?”

It’d be more conspicuous if anything; spring was here and the scarves Tanjirou had were all for winter. His King is intelligent, honest, bright and young, and…

sometimes a comedian, like now.

“…The sakura have just bloomed.” Kokushibou lifted up his hair, “That attire will not suit you. Your hair will conceal it well enough.”

Tanjirou grinned; his back was the next target. He lifted up his arms when Kokushibou washed his chest. The arms too, were alright. Kokushibou made sure to clean even his fingertips, leaving a peck on his cheek. Everything was almost done.

“Wait!” Tanjirou waved his hand to protest, “You don’t need to wash me down there!”

The area he was referring to was his groin which, Kokushibou, growing more confused, found to be nonsensical. He had just seen him naked; why was it suddenly worth being flustered about?

“…Did I inflict too much harm?” Kokushibou lifted the towel to garner a view and Tanjirou stood erect.

“No! it’s just…you know…”

It was embarrassing. Being turned on and naked and washing someone around that area while naked are two completely separate entities!

Koksuhibou would not have that, even if Tanjirou was his King. The more he probed, the less Tanjirou was willing to be seated again.

He grabbed and kept a tight grip on Tanjirou’s back; nestled close to his chest, Tanjirou knew he had the option to escape. It would just have to cost the entire structural integrity of the bathhouse. Releasing his demon powers here would gather too much attention.

He remained in place, though Tanjirou refused full cooperation. Slapping Kokushibou’s chest in an attempt to stop him from removing his towel and pushing against his body, neither were very effective. He leaves the bathing area with steam coming from his ears and a face redder than his flame marks.

The both of them bathe in the same tub, talking about what Kokushibou considered to be of mundane life. Tanjirou clung to his arm as Kokushibou told him of the development of humanity’s inventions; Tanjirou let Kokushibou caress his shoulders when he spoke of his observations on his reincarnated siblings. He’s making sure to protect them this time, a promulgated law that Kokushibou had accepted long ago.

It is sad then, when these times must end and they must truly go their separate ways.

“Let’s do this every time from now on.” Tanjirou said, stepping out from the bathhouse on the next evening night, “What do you think?”

Kokushibou pondered on that question; would there be a point to it? If the request of his presence was the crux of Tanjirou’s reasoning, then he could be there for him by and large, without needing a bathhouse.

But perhaps, it was not that.

Perhaps, Tanjirou was expressing his continued desire to care for him. That kindness is what led him to this relationship.

“…I would find no issue with that, Tanjirou.” Kokushibou replied, getting ready to leave as well when he stepped out.

“Okay! Well, I’ll see you soon!” Tanjirou gave him a hug goodbye. “Let’s meet up in a few days!”

Kokushibou nodded, and Tanjirou disappeared.

As he walked towards his next destination, Kokushibou quietly soaked in Tanjirou’s words and bottomless pit of compassion.

Inherent lIfe…is meaningless, but maybe through these sentimental memories he was making, he could find what makes it meaningful for him. Tanjirou is his King, and he is but a neophyte to the brutality of his benevolence.

And that in itself, is what makes Kokushibou want to protect him.