Chapter Text
Chapter One: embers,
Senjuro won’t lie. He expected disappointment.
Even as he turned his nichirin blade back and forth in his hand, ignoring the expectant gazes of the swordsmith and his brother, he allowed his shoulders to sag when the sword didn’t change colour. He watched his reflection in the blade, eyes welling with tears as the swordsmith clicked his tongue.
“Rengoku-sama is everything alright?” the swordsmith asked, his name long forgotten as Senjuro began to curl in on himself, hand shaking as he rested the blade on the ground. Kyojuro was by his side in an instant, dismissing the swordsmith to hold his little brother in a hug.
“No need to cry, my dear brother,” he said, smiling brightly at him. “Wielding the blade might not be your trade, but I am sure you can find joy in something else!” Senjuro anticipated a hearty slap on the back but looked at his brother in surprise when he simply held his shoulder. “Even though you might be different, always remember you have an older brother who believes in you! No matter what you do, I will always be proud of you!” Ruffling the boy’s hair, Kyojuro pulled away.
Senjuro sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he stood. Bowing to the swordsmith he turned to his brother. “Maybe if I keep trying, I can get stronger, onii-sama,” he told him, feigning confidence even as his fists shook from where they were by his side. “I won’t fail you! I’ll become your successor! Your tsuguko! Train me! I’ll do better, I swear!”
Kyojuro looked at him with wide eyes, the smile on his face faltering only for a moment.
“Are you sure brother? We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” the Flame Hashira told him, golden eyes glittering as the dying sun came through the windows. Senjuro grabbed the seams of his hakama pants, brows furrowing together as he pressed his lips into a thin line.
His only reply was a sharp nod.
He must’ve forgotten about the swordsmith because he turned to him when he cleared his throat, blushing at the memory of crying not once, but twice, in front of the man. He bowed again, apologizing profusely, but the masked man brushed him off, setting out to return to whence he came.
Senjuro sheathed his sword sadly, biting the inside of his cheek as he placed it in the corner of his room. Kyojuro placed an arm around him, drawing his little brother into his side.
“In due time, little brother! I’m sure you will change that blade one day.”
-o-
“I don’t understand, onii-sama!” Senjuro said, gasping for breath as he tried and tried to copy his brother’s stances and breaths. “I’m doing everything you tell me to! You even complimented my footwork!” He exclaimed, out of breath and thin on patience. The eleven year old shook, dropping his wooden sword. Kyojuro gave him a sympathetic look, resting his own faux blade on the ground.
“I don’t… it’s not fair.”
He followed his training weapon, pulling his legs up to his chest as he sat on the ground, dragging his fingers across the paved surface his brother used for sparring. Senjuro looked up from where his chin rested on his knees, frowning slightly as his brother crouched in front of him.
For once, Senjuro is flustered and confused, brows furrowing together as the smile slipped off his brother’s face, replaced with wariness and caution. For once, Senjuro is truly afraid that his older brother will tell him he’s hopeless, that the two months they’ve put into training meant absolutely nothing.
Final Selection was only a month and a half away. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t--
“Senjuro.”
The boy jumped, pulled out of his reverie as his head snapped upwards, eyes widening as they met the slightly concerned pair that were Kyojuro’s. His brother smiled at his surprise and Senjuro found himself withering under its intense shine.
“I think I know what your problem might be.”
He physically brightened at this, glancing into the house to ensure his father was away before leaning towards his brother.
“You are not compatible with the Breath of Flames!” Kyojuro said, sounding much too jovial for the news he had just imparted. Senjuro paled, swallowing the lump in his throat as he watched him. His brother must’ve sensed his distress because soon he was sitting next to him, an arm around his shoulder as he spoke his next words.
“Do you remember what I told you the night your sword wouldn’t change?” Kyojuro asked, and Senjuro nodded, allowing himself to lean into his brother’s frame. The Flame Hashira hummed thoughtfully. “Is that so?” he teased, and Senjuro pulled away to look up at him. “Because with your attitude I feared you might have forgotten.”
The boy has the audacity to blush.
“No matter what you choose, my dear brother, I will support you one hundred percent,” Kyojuro said, voice pitching as a smile formed on his lips. “You could drop Flame Breathing right now, and I wouldn’t be upset, instead, I would find immense happiness in knowing my brother is following his heart.”
Senjuro sniffed, and soon he was crying once again, dabbing at his eyes as Kyojuro laughed, rubbing his back until he calmed down.
“So what is it you need to tell me?” the boy asked, no longer plagued by hiccups as he rubbed away the last of his tears. Kyojuro nodded excitedly, beaming at his brother.
“As I said before, you aren’t compatible with Breath of Flames--” he held up a finger when Senjuro tried to protest. “--But if you trusted yourself enough, I believe you could master the Breath of Water in time to attend Final Selection next year.”
Senjuro sputtered, staring at his older brother as if he had grown two more heads.
“Are you insane, Kyojuro!?” he yelled, praying his father wouldn’t hear him raising his voice as he willed himself to stand. “A Water Breather in the long line of respected Rengokus!?” Senjuro guffawed, laughing as his eyes widened in despair. “I’m so much a failure I have to fall to the opposite element to even do something right,” he spat, clenching his fists by his sides.
“No,” Senjuro said flatly, crossing his arms as he turned away. Almost instantly he felt regret, hugging his frame instead of resuming his defensive stance.
Sighing, he turned to look at his brother, biting his lip as he avoided Kyojuro’s smile.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, turning one of his feet in the dirt. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Kyojuro stood then, patting Senjuro’s head. “It’s quite alright, my dear brother. Your anger and concern are well deserved, however--” Senjuro looked up at him, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows. “--do not let this anger guide your decision. If you wish, we can talk to Tomioka tomorrow, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind!” Kyojuro said, laughing heartily at a joke Senjuro didn’t hear.
The boy clasped his hands together, looking at the ground before up at his brother. “I think we should tell father first.”
Senjuro tried to ignore the slight break in his brother’s smile, but Kyojuro nodded, gesturing for him to help clean up the training area before they went in to prep dinner.
-o-
Dinners were always awkward in the Rengoku household, but never this awkward.
Senjuro took a seat opposite Kyojuro, making sure the table was set and that his father was in a… better mood before he spoke.
But then he didn’t.
He ignored Kyojuro’s prompting, allowing the older boy to keep up the conversation with their father, for Kyojuro was better at this anyway. He was laughable, sociable, simply better than Senjuro was. He spared a glance at his brother, watching as the Flame Hashira gave his father a rundown of his day.
At least Shinjuro looked mildly interested.
In truth, Senjuro was a little nervous. How would his father react? With Kyojuro here, he probably wouldn’t do anything rash, but the fear was still there. Senjuro pushed his rice around his plate, no longer hungry, instead, he jumped comically when he felt two pairs of eyes on him, raising his head to meet the golden gazes of Kyojuro and Shinjuro.
“Your brother says you have something to tell me,” Shinjuro said, and Senjuro paled. “What is it?”
Senjuro sent his brother a helpless glance, but Kyojuro only beamed at him, smiling encouragingly. The eleven year old nodded, swallowing once before looking at his father.
“I don’t… I don’t think I’m compatible with Flame Breathing,” Senjuro mumbled, rubbing his neck. Shinjuro frowned, resting his elbow on the table to rest his head in his palm. Senjuro wanted to cry. He didn’t hear him, did he?
“I can’t use Breath of the Flames,” he said, louder this time. He didn’t expect Shinjuro to snort, sitting up as he turned his attention to his food.
“If that’s all you wanted to say, I’ll have you know I knew it already,” he said, laughing. “You’re useless. Can’t even train hard enough like your brother here.” Shinjuro leaned forward on the table. “By the time Kyojuro was your age, he had already mastered the first three forms.” His father scowled at him, and Senjuro clasped his arms. “You can’t even get your blade to change colour.”
Kyojuro slammed the table at this, and Senjuro looked at him, at a loss for words at the absolute anger marring his brother’s features.
“How many times must I tell you that Senjuro is not useless!?” he hissed, his voice louder than usual. “He cleans the house and your rooms! He manages the reputation, takes care of you, upkeeps the house, as well as studying at the school down the road.”
His brother frowned and Senjuro realized no matter how he tried, the news would not go through to Shinjuro well.
“I think Senjuro should study Breath of Water instead,” Kyojuro said flatly, and Senjuro wished he could have afforded a camera for the way his father’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his head.
Shinjuro turned to look at his youngest son, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.
“I will not have my useless child for a son tarnish our family’s history!” He yelled, and Senjuro shot Kyojuro a dry look. “He will not study Water Breathing.”
Senjuro’s shoulders fell at this.
“But father, if he’s shown no progress in Flame Breathing, it can only be assumed it isn’t right for him. He may be used to the forms, but I do not think he can master it.” Kyojuro said, trying to get his father to understand. “Unlike you and I, Senjuro is gentle and kind. The loud and boisterous movements of Breath of Flames may be hindering his development.”
The young Rengoku looked at his father hopefully, fighting the smile that almost broke through. Kyojuro wasn’t wrong. He was right… well, right in the sense that this was what he told his little brother before speaking to their father.
Shinjuro frowned, looking at him once more before sighing. He was silent before he resumed his usual angry look, and Senjuro grasped the cloth of his pants.
“You won’t do well,” Shinjuro said, face devoid of expression as he began to eat again. “You'll go train with that Water Pillar only to be sent back home with your tail in between your legs.” Senjuro frowned, trying to mask his disappointment. “Don’t come crying to me when the Hashira tells you you truly are hopeless.”
The table was quiet before Senjuro finally spoke.
“Does that mean I can train with Tomioka-sama?” he asked quietly, hope lacing his voice as he clasped his hands together.
Shinjuro hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. “Like I said, don’t come crying to me when he tells you you’re shit.”
Senjuro smiled, looking at Kyojuro, only to have it brighten at the matching pair his brother wore.
Maybe he’ll finally prove himself useful.