Yet another strand slipped from his fingers, undoing all his previous work. His broad hands and fingers weren't made to do delicate things. KyoHotaru


Sadly I do not own Samurai Deeper Kyo. If I would have, Hotaru would have been a more important character present from the very first volume. So please do not sue me, since I don't get any profit from writing this story.

They were many years later, Hotaru's hair had once again grown long and he braided it every day, carefully smoothing the stands in the simple pattern.

Sometimes he didn't feel like bothering and wondered once again why he didn't just cut it. The next moment he forgot as a particularly interesting cloud drifted by.

'A mushroom, or a tree, maybe …'

Once again he didn't finish his train of thoughts, as the door opened, quietly, and someone entered the room.




The male twitched, but a amused smirk curled around his mouth.

"You're going to tell me that you don't remember me?"

The blonde blinked, the emotions already fading, but they could still be read in his eyes.

Surprise, shock, and … something else. The taller male doesn't bother to read them.

"Did you actually dry your hair after you bathed?"


Hotaru brushed his pale fingers trough his, apparently soaking wet, hair. He stared, contemplating at the crystal trails the droplets left when they rolled over his arm.

"I don't like water."

Kyo snorted and threw a towel he had found somewhere. It landed on the blonde hair, and slipped partially on the yukata covered shoulder. Hotaru looked at it as if it was an offending object and shrugged it of his shoulders.

"What is it for."

"Your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

Kyo smirked at the blonde's nonplussed expression and approached the seated male. Hotaru had managed to get lost in thoughts yet again and he jerked when the towel landed on his head once again. Kyo pulled the slim man closer, placing him in between his tights and started drying the long golden mane. Hotaru didn't seem to mind, he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on top of them.

"Oi, stay still."

The blonde stilled and closed his eyes, relaxing in the presence of the one with the title of the strongest of the world. He missed those days, the five of them, travelling through the lands and slaying everyone who dared to oppose them. The euphoria of battle, the smell of blood so thick in the air, you could almost taste it. And the five of them, whirling, twirling, dancing, swords drawn, clashing with the enemy, high on that feeling of being alive, to be able to hear your own blood sing. Bontenmaru, tearing through his opponents, like an animal, wild enough to kill his own if they approached too close. Akari, supporting them, healing them, and utterly ruthless when provoked. Akira, the temperature getting lower every second, analytical and icy, tore through everyone. And Kyo, cruel, utterly vicious and ruthless, killing without any remorse. And even he himself, normally stoic and emotionless, ruthlessly burning everyone to ashes.

They had been happy back then, smiling, smirking as they fought.

"What are you thinking about?"


"You forgot."

"What are you doing?"

"Drying your hair. I've been doing it for the last minutes."



"Braid it."


For once it was Kyo who was surprised. Hotaru handled him a brush and sat down again. The taller male snorted, but ran the brush through the long hair. He didn't try to softly untangle the strands, pulling until the knots loosened. Afterwards he ran his fingers through the mane, awkwardly. The strong fingers weren't used to do subtle work, they were rough from handling his sword, just as Hotaru's were. But the blonde never had had the build to be a sword fighter, to slender, too lithe. Hotaru had never allowed something as stupid as his build to stop him from mastering his sword though. Unusually clumsy he separated the hair in three parts and began.

Kyo cursed as yet another strand slipped from his fingers, undoing all his previous work. His broad hands and fingers weren't made to do delicate things, he had never used them to do such things either, he had killed, slaughtered. But he wasn't one to give up when something didn't went right from the first time. Hotaru allowed him, not offering any advice, something Kyo would have hated.

This was one of the moments he remembered just why he had allowed his hair to grow long again, as the awkward tugging continued.

He could hear the blond mumble something, to soft to be heard and he shifted. He tugged at the sad attempt of a braid to tighten it. Suddenly Hotaru slumped backwards, his head resting against his shoulders, slim throat completely bared, breathing softly. He was sleeping. Kyo twitched. The nerve …

It was dark when Yuya arrived, but she didn't hesitate when she poked her head around the door. The room was dark and she had to squint when she looked for them. She giggled when she found them. The image too cute to resist.

They were both sleeping, still leaning against the wall next to the window, Hotaru's head tucked under Kyo's chin. The taller male's arms wrapped possessively around the other. A messy braid laid over the blonde's shoulder. And even in the dark and while he was sleeping, Yuya could still see the triumphant expression on Kyo's face.