Summary: "We were blessed," his father spits out, alcohol clearly muddling his brain. "By the gods. Your brother-I saw him. The fire. I saw him. You wouldn't understand." There's an odd mixture of pride and bitterness in that statement.

Father's right. He does not.

—Rengoku Senjuro, and his strange fascination with dual swords and tea and strange phrases and the sun. Kyojuro loves his brother more than anything else in the world, but sometimes he can't help but wonder. Alternatively: Fire Lord Zuko accidentally hijacks Rengoku Senjuro's body. The chaos that follows isn't entirely his fault. Crossposted on ao3.

Wrote this because I wanted to write about Zuko and Kyojuro meeting each other, and this happened. This is the prologue, a strange interlude of sorts, and the characters' circumstances will be further expounded in the later chapters, if this doesn't remain as a oneshot. Poor Senjuro. Zuko in this story alternates between awkward dork and self-assured king, it's great. review are always appreciated.

unrelated note: rengoku gaiden! wasshoi!

prologue.

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Senjuro's sword turns red the moment his hand touches the hilt.

The elderly swordsmith makes a pleased murmur behind his mask, and Kyojuro barely refrains from pulling his brother into a soul-crushing hug.

"Congratulations, little brother!"

Senjuro doesn't respond, still gazing at the sword. Kyojuro doesn't blame him – its hilt a combination of black and red, handguard shaped into a smooth ring of intricate bronze. The sheen of its red blade glares at them, and it looks powerful and intimidating. A bit more minimalistic compared to Kyojuro's, but the simplicity adds to its elegance.

Destroy all demons, emblazoned near the hilt.

"What a beautiful sword! Fitting for a Rengoku!"

Senjuro still remains silent, at a loss for words, and Kyojuro understands. He could still remember the chest-bursting happiness he felt when color materialized in his own sword. Nichirin Blades are a demon slayer's lifeline, a solid reminder of their purpose.

"It's shiny," says Senjuro. And then backtracks for a second. "I mean, it's a gorgeous sword. Thank you."

Swordsmith-san nods in affirmation.

"Indeed, indeed!" Kyojuro sings praises beside him.

His little brother blinks like an owl. "Uh, and it's sharp. Really sharp."

"Yes! Commit oneself to eradicating Kibutsuji Muzan and his followers!"

A cough. "Sure."

The swordsmith makes a noncommittal sound beneath his mask.

"I'm sure I can kill demons with this," says Senjuro. He glances at Kyojuro as his voice tries to sound louder and firmer at that last part. Kyojuro's lips tug at a grin as he observes Senjuro. That undeterred enthusiasm, rising up to match his older brother. Commendable!

"Yes, of course. It can cut, too," the swordsmith deadpans.

A beat.

"What are you-"

"Ah, as expected! Such fine craftsmanship!" Kyojuro laughs and interjects before Senjuro tries his new sword on the elderly. "We are in your debt, as always."

The swordsmith mutters a quiet "you're welcome" in response, and Senjuro crosses his arms, grumbling under his breath.

Still, he bows in gratitude one last time as the swordsmith prepares to leave the estate. Sounds of footsteps descending, and then silence for a while.

The sky is nearly dark, sun just beginning to rise in the horizon. The overcast morning sky looms in the dawn.

Still, it is shaping up to be a wonderful day, morning dew present from yesterday's rain. They sit together on the engawa overlooking the garden. A low table sits between them, bearing two porcelain cups and a teapot. In the cold air, birds titter around. Peaceful. Serene.

"I don't understand why that man had to snark at me," Senjuro breaks the silence, sullen voice and frown in place. "And after we just praised him till kingdom come."

"Some people are just like that!" says Kyojuro, trying to reassure him. "Don't let it bother you too much."

Senjuro frowned.

"You're going to be my tsuguko!" Kyojuro shouts joyfully, trying to lighten up the mood. "I am so proud of you! And so young, too! Younger than I was. Father will be joyous!"

-His father's back faced towards him, as he laid in his futon, pointedly disregarding his son. Stating that everything was meaningless-

Kyojuro banished it from his mind.

"Thank you," says Senjuro, smiling at him. "Your praise means a lot, Onii-sama."

"Of course! And call me Anuie! Or even Aniki! No need to be so formal all the time, we're brothers!"

"No, I'll still call you Onii-sama," says Senjuro. Defiant, sitting next to him with that excellent posture and smirk. Back straight and stiff, like a Lord in all his thirteen years of glory. Staring at him with those unusual amber eyes. Kyojuro can't help but feel like he's secretly being made fun of.

"That's fine as well. Respectful!"

"You know, all that training really paid off. It was a literal pain at times, but you're a great teacher. I can see why Kanroji adores you so," Senjuro remarks.

"Such kind words! And that's not fair."

"What is?"

"You refer to Kanroji-san so informally!"

"Don't tell me you're jealous?" Senjuro smirks, eyes crinkling up. Kyojuro bristles inside, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"I am not!"

"Yes. Clearly you're not."

There he is again! No, Kyojuro's not pouting! A Rengoku would never reveal their weakness so openly. Kyojuro wants to reach out and ruffle Senjuro's hair, see if he likes that!

"Well, she reminds me of an old friend. I like her," Senjuro tells him matter-of-factly as he pours out a cup for himself. And he does. Always bringing her tea and making small talk in the year when she stayed inside the Rengoku residence to train as Kyojuro's chosen tsuguko. Giving her small treats when he thinks Kyojuro isn't looking in their direction. "Not in that way, of course. I just like her."

An old friend?

Kyojuro's mildly astonished that there was something he didn't know yet about his baby brother. Before he can inquire further, however, Senjuro hands him the cup. "Here. Drink it before it gets cold."

"Ah, thank you!" He takes the cup and is surprised for a second. It scalds his fingers with its heat. Still, not wanting to displease his brother, he takes a quick sip. It nearly burns his tongue, but the flavor is there.

"Delicious!" he exclaims, louder than before. He takes a slower, deliberate sip. It's mild, not too strong, but it leaves a subtly sweet impression on his mouth. The smell is fragrant as well. Soothing, as tea should be.

The nostalgia settles in his bones, a wistfulness tempered by days long forgotten and embraced. They would sit like this, too, with Kyojuro resting his head on their mother's lap, the sense of fingers on his scalp and traces of Ruka's warmth, a scent of bamboo oils, lethargic and all things wonderful.

There was always a cup for her, too, for the body. Ginseng was Mother's favorite. To cure the weariness apart from the illness that was incurable. He could still remember.

Some days they'd watch their father practice with his blade, until the time that Kyojuro was there himself. Senjuro was still too young so he'd watch them instead with a certain fondness. Those were the good old days.

"Delicious!" Kyojuro repeats. "You've gotten better at brewing tea!"

It's this statement, of all things, that actually brightens every corner of Senjuro's face. "Really? I'm glad you like it. I learned from the best."

"Someone tutored you? I thought you said that you read Mother's books on how to make tea?"

"That's not really important," Senjuro waves him off. "I won't reveal my tea secrets, so don't ask any more questions."

"Okay!" Oh well. Senjuro was so forceful sometimes.

"Can you guess what kind of tea it is?"

"I'll try!" Another sip. Flowery, wonderful. "I see. It's jasmine! You're really fond of it, aren't you?"

"It's tea. What's not to love?"

"You should open up a tea shop!"

"Oh yes, a Rengoku family teashop. You can be head waiter, charming and distracting folks, while I brew tea in the corner. Let's see what Father has to say about that."

Kyojuro holds his laughter. "He'd blow a gasket!"

"Good. Someone has to entertain the customers, and he'd be perfect for the job."

On any other day, Kyojuro would have chastised him about showing disrespect towards their father, but the absurdity of it all gets to him. Kyojuro guffaws out loud and holds his stomach. The mental image!

"It's not that funny," says Senjuro, but his own eyes were laughing and twinkling.

"Imagine if my fellow Hashira became our customers!"

"Tomioka's nice."

"Nice?" Tomioka Giyuu? "He's certainly genial when he wants to be. A man of few words, that Tomioka. He's a good comrade."

Senjuro hums while he pours a cup. "I can respect that."

"You two would get along well! Give him joint ownership!"

"You're really getting into it. Mother would probably be rolling in her grave right now," says Senjuro. And then his smile disappears as quickly as it appeared. "Sorry about that."

He knows how much Kyojuro holds her in high esteem.

"It's fine!" Kyojuro exclaims, patting Senjuro on the shoulder. It doesn't bother him, but it does sober him up.

"But what if I'm serious?" says Senjuro, regarding him with a careful stare. Kyojuro decides to humor him.

"About living your dream as a teashop owner?"

"What if I choose to do something else other than being a demon slayer?"

"Oh."

Kyojuro can't tell if he's joking.

"Well?"

He's serious.

It takes a while for Kyojuro to answer, but when he does, it's honest and true. "In that case, go for it! Whatever endeavor you wish to partake in, your big brother is here to support you!" The words sound right, and Kyojuro is surprised to feel that he means it, even when he feels a little disappointed in Senjuro, when he showed so much untapped potential.

He should've noticed the signs, Kyojuro thinks. Senjuro always showed a hint of disinterest whenever they were discussing demons. He seemed focused, but not as passionate as Kyojuro was when he was the same age. Almost as though Senjuro was distracted. Even when Father still trained them when they were young, and the weight of the world didn't crash down on the former Flame Hashira.

Senjuro sighs, putting the table aside and shuffling closer to Kyojuro, who regales him with a curious stare. Senjuro stares, and then something flits in his eyes, as though he has seen something in his brother's face.

"Kyojuro."

It's strange, the way his name rolls off Senjuro's tongue, like a declaration.

"Follow your heart! Set it ablaze! If you are truly serious in your dream, then nothing else matters-!"

The swordsmith wasted his time and his strength. Senjuro's Nichirin Blade would gather dust if he didn't take the pledge, and it would only serve as an ornament in the house, a future family heirloom, but that was fine!

"-you have other talents in other areas! And that's wonderful! Your passion shouldn't be centered around demon slaying!"

What would Father think? The thought leaves a sinking feeling in his gut.

But if Shinjuro Rengoku refused the call years ago, then he shouldn't have qualms about his youngest son not following the family tradition! Kyojuro will never let anyone, not even their own father, hinder Senjuro's path!

Still. Father would've been proud. Nowadays, he was always more expectant and lenient towards Senjuro. An odd juxtaposition that Kyojuro never truly understood.

"Kyojuro." Senjuro repeats. There's a strange expression on his face, a smile beginning to form. Eyes staring at him with warmth.

"Listen to me. You are the best brother anyone can ask for. Your honor burns like the sun."

"That's-" Kyojuro starts to say, but his chest flares with an unusual fury. "Thank you!" he chokes out instead.

"Fine then. I've decided. I'll become your tsuguko. I'll train even harder and I won't soil the family name." Senjuro declares, raising his chin high. An ultimatum. A decision.

His ears slowly turn red.

Cute! Kyojuro can't help but chant in his head. A bashful Senjuro is always amusing to see!

"But most of all, I'll do it for you."

This time, Kyojuro tackles him into a hug. Senjuro feels small like this, and he's reminded of the times they'd sleep beside each other, when they were still very little. "Yes! Let's become strong together and defeat all the demons!"

His little brother struggles in his grip, half-heartedly batting him away. "You're squeezing me!"

Kyojuro laughs.

"Your tea! It's getting cold!"

"Is tea more important than your brother expressing his happiness?"

"Yes!"

Eventually, he relents, and lets go. Senjuro folds his arms, staring at him in mock disapproval.

"What?" Kyojuro can't help but feel amused.

"Your tea."

Still with the tea? Kyojuro reaches out for it, but Senjuro takes it before he can. "I'll just refill your cup first." Senjuro does, and then for a while he holds the cup with both palms. "Here."

"I'm going to be your first regular when you finally set up that teashop," Kyojuro teases him, and accepts the offered tea. When he sips, it feels warmer for no apparent reason.

"Hot!"

"Oh, sorry for that."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault!" Kyojuro laughs.

"Nothing." Senjuro looks up at the white, pale skies. "It's going to be really sunny today. Let's enjoy the morning chill while it lasts."

There's no sign of any sun peeking from the clouds. Rengoku shakes his head. "On the contrary, a rain shower seems to be approaching once again."

"Trust me, the sun will be insistent. It feels different."

It's entertaining, when Senjuro talks like this, but Kyojuro's not going to argue with him about the weather, of all things.

"I didn't know you can communicate with the sun!" Kyojuro quips, amusement leaking through his tone. Not quite mocking. Not quite serious, either.

This time, Senjuro chortles, sudden and joyful and rare, followed by Kyojuro's resounding laughter.

"Now you know."

Seconds become minutes, and minutes become an hour. They finish the tea together, and then it starts to rain. As he predicted. Childish it may be, Kyojuro feels a smug sense of vindication.

"A rain shower," Senjuro concedes before he picks up the tray and leaves.

The rain comes, and quickly goes, fleeting as a shroud in the wind. But then the sun does come, waves of immense heat scouring over the land, letting the white cotton of his nagajuban stick to his skin.

Kyojuro stands, and soon he prepares for the day.