It was a little odd, finding himself, once again, on a ship that had given him a home when he had thought he had lost everything, lying back in bathtub that was too big for one person but too small to fit two, staring up at the ceiling and seeing nothing but the scars his hands left whenever they became the claws of a monster. Raigyou breathed out a sigh, just to test how much it’d echo in the tiny little bathroom – he was through with blowing bubbles and splashing about, but he was too lazy to bother shaving. Not that he could shave if he wanted to. He couldn’t find the razor anywhere.
He nearly whooped for joy the moment he heard the door open, and immediately stuck his hand out, pushing the curtains away, palm outstretched.
“Hand me the razor, will you?”
One pause, and then the curtains just behind him were shoved back with a violent hand and Raigyou suddenly found himself staring up at Ishu – or, more accurately, her boobs.
“…My. You’ve grown.”
It was not the smartest thing to say to a woman holding a very sharp and very shiny razor, but Raigyou felt as though he had already done far stupider things in his life. One more indiscretion wasn’t going to make a difference. Ishu, to her credit, betrayed nothing but a twitch of her eyebrow before she pulled up a chair and sat at his head with a disdainful sniff. She lifted the razor, giving Raigyou a split second of terror before he realized that she was holding the shaving cream in her free hand.
“Relax,” Ishu murmurs, as she pressed the razor against the line of his chin. “I don’t plan on killing my only line of defense against those Humanforms.”
Midway through her shaving him clean and him holding perfectly still because he knows that she was only too good with a blade and any injury would be deliberate on her part, Raigyou realized that this was a rather familiar position: him lying down somewhere and her shaping him up to her liking, both of them focused on something else, neither of them talking. It used to be a ritual of theirs, out on the battlefield. The proximity of such a moment was the closest Ishu would ever let him get.
Ishu finished up in record time and stood up, smoothing out her skirt and adjusting her glasses – two gestures, one remarkably feminine, the other eerily professional. Woman and soldier all in one.
“Stop screwing around and make yourself useful for once.”
And as she leaves, he almost catches some loose strands of her long, blue hair.