HIRAETH 》 s.sanemi 》 part one.
pairings: shinazugawa sanemi x tomioka!reader
Sanemi falling in love with Giyu's younger sister, she's an absolute carbon copy of her older brother -anon
content: mean!sanemi, bigbrother!giyuu, tsuguko to hashira, supportive shinobu, Aphrodisiac (bda), nipple play, masturbation, fingering
"Again!" Mitsuri cheered.
You swung the wooden sword, attempting the specific rotation she had taught you. Your foot slipped, and the blade caught the air awkwardly, leaving you off-balance.
"I'm sorry," you said, stepping back and bowing.
"Oh, don't be sorry!" Mitsuri beamed. "It's a tricky move! Just shift your weight a little more to the left. Like this!"
She demonstrated the move with a sharp, precise flick of her wrist. You tried again. You failed again.
"Stop apologizing!" Mitsuri laughed, though her eyes remained encouraging. "Mistakes are just steps toward getting it right. Try it one more time. Focus on your breathing."
You took a deep breath and swung. This time, the sword hit the target with a satisfying crack.
"Perfect!" Mitsuri jumped up and down. "See? You've got it!"
By the time the morning ended, both of you were drenched in sweat. You were exhausted, your muscles aching. Mitsuri was still smiling, though she was breathing hard.
"You've improved so much lately," she said, wiping her forehead. "I'm really proud of you."
"Thank you," you replied quietly.
You didn't go inside to rest. Instead, you picked up the wooden swords. You wiped them down with a cloth, removing the dust and sweat, and placed them back in the rack with careful precision. You liked the order of it.
Before you could head toward the kitchen for lunch, Mitsuri stopped you.
"Shinobu-san sent a message," Mitsuri said. "She needs more herbs and some specific medicines. Could you help me carry the supplies to the Butterfly Estate?"
You helped her pack the crates. The boxes were heavy, filled with glass vials and dried plants, but you carried them without a word of complaint. As you and Mitsuri walked through the village toward the Butterfly Estate, other demon slayers stopped to greet her.
"Good morning, Kanroji-sama!" a group of lower-ranked slayers called out.
"Good morning!" Mitsuri waved back energetically, her whole body moving with the greeting.
The slayers looked at you. You gave them a small, polite nod. They nodded back, though none of them started a conversation with you. You preferred it that way. You walked a step behind Mitsuri, focusing on the weight of the crates in your arms.
As you turned a corner near a cluster of wisteria trees, you saw a familiar figure standing by the path.
He was standing still, looking toward the horizon. He didn't notice you at first. When he finally did, he didn't move. Neither did you.
"...Morning," Giyuu said.
He looked at you, then at the crates you were carrying.
A long silence followed. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it was heavy. It was the kind of silence that only existed between the two of you. You both had the same way of retreating into yourselves, building walls that no one else knew how to climb.
You looked at his arm and noticed a small tear in the fabric of his sleeve. It was a clean rip, likely from a branch or a demon's claw. Without saying anything, you set the crates down on the grass. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small sewing kit you always carried.
Giyuu didn't ask what you were doing. He didn't move away. He simply stood there, his arm limp, as you took his sleeve in your hands. You worked quickly and quietly, your fingers moving with practiced ease. You stitched the fabric back together, making the seam nearly invisible.
When you tied off the final knot, you patted the fabric flat.
"Thank you," Giyuu said softly.
He turned and walked away, heading toward his next mission. You stayed where you were for a few seconds, watching his back as he disappeared down the path.
Seeing him always brought back fragments of things you tried to keep buried. You remembered a time when Giyuu wasn't this quiet. You remembered Sabito, whose voice had filled every room, always talking, always pushing Giyuu to be better. You remembered Makomo's soft laughter, the way she seemed to float beside them. You remembered chasing after them as a child, your small feet pounding against the earth, while your older sister watched from the porch with a gentle smile.
Those memories felt like they belonged to someone else. They were distant, blurred around the edges.
You wondered, briefly, what would have happened if your sister had lived. Would you have ever picked up a sword? Would you have spent your nights hunting demons in the dark? And Giyuu... would he still be smiling?
Mitsuri's voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked and looked back at her. She was waiting a few yards ahead, tilting her head.
You picked up the crates and hurried to catch up.
When you arrived at the Butterfly Estate, Shinobu was waiting at the entrance. She had her usual smile on her face, though it never quite reached her eyes.
"Welcome, Mitsuri-san," Shinobu said. "And you as well."
"Shinobu-san!" Mitsuri hugged her briefly before stepping aside.
You didn't say much. You followed Aoi into the storage rooms and began the process of organizing the herbs. You sorted the dried leaves by type, grinding some into powders and bottling others. You carried boxes of medicine from the delivery cart to the shelves, moving through the estate like a ghost.
You worked so quietly that the other girls often forgot you were in the room. You didn't mind. Being invisible was easier than trying to find words that didn't come.
At one point, Kanao passed by. She stopped and looked at you. Neither of you spoke. There was no need for words. You both simply bowed to each other—a mutual acknowledgment of shared silence—and then she continued on her way.
Around noon, the sound of footsteps approached the front gate.
"Obanai-san is here!" Mitsuri squealed.
You looked up to see Iguro Obanai entering the estate. The moment Mitsuri saw him, her entire face lit up. She looked like she had just seen the sun for the first time in weeks.
You didn't want to intrude. You knew how they felt about each other, and you knew that your presence would only make the atmosphere stiff. You quietly excused yourself, picking up a basket of unsorted medicine and moving toward the outer engawa.
You knelt on the wooden porch, focusing on the task. You separated the stems from the leaves, one by one. The repetitive motion calmed you. You didn't look up when you heard more footsteps approaching.
These footsteps were different. They weren't light like Shinobu's or rhythmic like Giyuu's. They were heavy. Slow. Confident.
You kept your head down. You could tell someone was standing a few feet away from you. You didn't sense any immediate danger, but there was an intensity to the person's presence that made the air feel tighter.
Sanemi Shinazugawa was leaning against a pillar near the engawa. He had no interest in the tea or the quiet conversations happening inside where Obanai and Mitsuri had gone. He looked bored, his gaze wandering aimlessly across the estate.
Then, his eyes landed on you.
You were still kneeling, your fingers meticulously separating the herbs. You didn't look up. You just continued your work, as if nothing else in the world mattered more than the medicine in your basket.
Sanemi clicked his tongue.
"...Fucking Tomioka," he muttered.
You froze for a split second. The voice was harsh, grating, and full of irritation. You finally raised your head and looked at him.
Sanemi was staring at you with a scowl, his scarred face twisted in a look of annoyance. He saw the resemblance immediately. The same distant eyes, the same guarded expression, the same oppressive silence.
Sanemi narrowed his eyes. He seemed irritated that you weren't intimidated by him. Most slayers flinched when he spoke; you just stood there like a statue.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"I'm with Kanroji-san," you answered.
"Yeah?" Sanemi stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low snarl. "Go to your estate and talk to your fucking brother. Tell him he's got some nerve today."
You blinked. You didn't know what they had fought about this time, but it didn't matter. You and Giyuu didn't fight. You didn't even argue. You just existed in the same space, sharing the same void.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice flat. "But it's not my problem that the two of you fought again."
Sanemi's expression shifted from annoyance to genuine shock. He stared at you, his mouth slightly open. He wasn't used to the "Tomioka type" talking back, especially not with such a blunt, emotionless delivery.
Without waiting for a response, you bowed again and walked away, heading back toward the storage room.
"Oi! Tomioka!" he yelled after you.
You didn't turn around. You just kept walking.
The room was dark. You woke up with your heart hammering against your ribs, your breath coming in short, jagged bursts. The dream was the same one you had seen for years. You were a child again, running through a forest that felt too large and too dark. You could still hear your older sister's voice, screaming at you to keep running and not to look back. You remembered the smell of blood, thick and metallic, and the sound of a demon laughing somewhere in the brush. You remembered Giyuu calling your name, his voice distant and panicked behind the trees. You never saw her die in the dream. You always woke up right before that moment, but your mind filled in the gaps anyway.
Giyuu walked along the engawa, his footsteps light against the wood. He had been gone for several days on a mission, and the silence of the estate usually welcomed him back. He didn't expect anyone to be home. Usually, you were already out with Mitsuri, training before the sun even hit the horizon.
Then he heard it. Laughter.
It wasn't your laughter. It was Mitsuri’s, high and bright, followed by the sharp, teasing tone of Shinobu. Giyuu stopped. He shifted his gaze toward the garden.
You were sitting on the grass between the two women. Shinobu had your arm held steady, her fingers moving with precision as she wrapped fresh bandages over a series of scratches. Mitsuri was leaning in close, waving a flower crown made of mismatched yellow and white blooms.
"Look! I made this one just for you!" Mitsuri chirped. "Doesn't it look lovely? I think it matches your eyes perfectly!"
You looked at the crown and then back at Mitsuri.
Mitsuri beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. She began talking about where she found the flowers and how she thought the colors would look better if she added some purple ones from the north side of the garden. You listened, nodding every few seconds.
"And you actually forgot to eat breakfast again," Shinobu said, her voice humming with a mock-sternness. She flicked your forehead lightly. "Organizing herbs since dawn is not a substitute for a meal."
You blinked, looking a bit dazed.
Mitsuri gasped, her hand flying to her cheek.
"Forgotten? We can't have that! You're growing! Come on, let's go to the kitchen right now. I think there are still some sweet buns left!"
Mitsuri grabbed your wrist and began dragging you toward the house. You didn't resist. You just let her pull you along, your expression as blank as ever.
Giyuu stepped back into the shadows of the hallway before any of them noticed him. He watched you go.
He remembered the years after your sister died. He remembered how you had stopped speaking, how the silence had swallowed you whole. Even after you joined the Corps, you were a ghost in your own skin. Most people gave up on trying to talk to you after the first three one-word answers.
Seeing you now, surrounded by the noise of other people, felt strange. It felt better.
he turned around and walked to his room. He closed the sliding door behind him. Some things were easier left unsaid.
Several weeks later, the peace of the morning was broken by the loud, frantic cawing of your crow.
"Emergency! Emergency! Village in the mountains! Silent overnight! Three slayers missing! Go now!"
You were still chewing on a piece of toast when the bird landed on the table. You swallowed slowly and stood up.
Shinobu, who had been sipping tea, set her cup down.
"A silent village? That sounds suspicious," she said. "I'll accompany you. It sounds like the work of a demon that uses toxins or illusions."
"The orders were for me," you said.
The summons from Kagaya Ubuyashiki had been specific. This was a solo mission.
Mitsuri hurried over to you, her face clouded with worry. She reached out and tightened the straps of your uniform, pulling them snug.
"Please be careful!" she pleaded. "And promise me you won't skip meals while you're out there. If you come back thinner, I'm going to feed you everything in the kitchen!"
You looked at her, then nodded.
Giyuu appeared behind her. He didn't say anything. He simply held out a small pouch of extra medicine and concentrated wound salves. You took it from his hand. Your fingers brushed against his, and for a moment, you both just stood there.
You turned and disappeared into the trees, the weight of the sword at your hip the only thing keeping you grounded.
The village was wrong the moment you stepped past the perimeter. There were no screams. No sounds of struggle. No crying children. Just a heavy, suffocating silence. The houses stood open, doors swinging slightly in the breeze, as if the inhabitants had simply evaporated.
You walked through the center of the town, your hand on the hilt of your blade. You checked every building, every cellar, every barn. Nothing. Not even the crows would land on the rooftops.
As the sun began to dip below the mountains, you found them. Fresh footprints, deep and heavy, leading straight into the dense forest.
The deeper you walked, the colder the air became. It was an unnatural chill that seeped through your uniform and bit into your skin. You noticed flowers growing in the middle of the path—vibrant, pulsing things that shouldn't have existed in this season. They looked like open wounds in the earth.
By the time the moon reached its peak, the demon appeared.
It was beautiful. It wore a serene smile and moved with a grace that felt insulting. It introduced itself as Lower Moon Two, its voice calm and devoid of any real malice. It spoke as if the battle to follow was merely a polite conversation.
The fight lasted for hours.
The demon's head rolled across the forest floor.
You didn't watch it fade into ash. You collapsed onto your back, your chest heaving. You stared up at the stars, your arms refusing to move. They felt like lead, pinned to the earth by a weight you couldn't describe.
A few weeks later, a Kasugai Crow arrived with a summons. You were called to the Ubuyashiki estate.
When you arrived, the other Hashira were already there. You felt out of place. You quietly took your spot near Mitsuri, wondering why you had been summoned. You were still slightly stiff from your injuries, your movements cautious.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki smiled at you, his blind eyes seeming to see right through you.
"Welcome," he said softly. "I have discussed your recent mission with the other Hashira. The defeat of Lower Moon Two is a significant achievement. It fulfills the requirements for promotion."
The courtyard went still.
"As of today," Kagaya continued, "you are officially appointed as a Hashira."
The silence lasted for three seconds before Mitsuri lunged at you. She wrapped her arms around you in a hug so tight that your ribs groaned and you nearly lost your balance.
"I knew it! I knew you could do it!" she shrieked with joy.
Shinobu clapped politely, a proud, genuine smile on her face.
"Congratulations. I suppose I'll have to find a way to keep you from killing yourself now that you're a Hashira," she teased.
Muichiro blinked, looked at a cloud for a moment, and then looked back at you.
Tengen laughed loudly, striking a pose. "Now that's flamboyant! A new addition to the ranks! We'll have to celebrate properly!"
Gyomei pressed his hands together, tears streaming down his face. "To survive such a trial... truly a blessing. Namu Amida Butsu."
Obanai gave a single, curt nod of approval.
He was standing with his arms folded across his chest, his face twisted in a scowl. He let out a scoff that was loud enough to cut through Mitsuri’s cheering.
The courtyard grew quiet again. Everyone looked at him.
"We're adding another Tomioka now?" Sanemi asked, his voice grating.
He stepped forward, his gaze locking onto yours. He looked you up and down, his eyes filled with an irritation that seemed to vibrate off his skin.
"You beat one Lower Moon and suddenly you're Hashira material?" He clicked his tongue, leaning in. "Guess standards really dropped."
Nobody laughed. Mitsuri stopped hugging you, her expression falling.
Sanemi didn't stop. He seemed to be feeding on the tension.
"I already have one gloomy bastard to deal with. Now there's two. Just what this Corps needs—more people who can't hold a conversation."
He waited. He expected you to snap. He expected you to get angry, to cry, or to try and defend your honor. He wanted a reaction.
Instead, you just looked at him. Your expression didn't change. Your heart didn't race. You just stared back at him with the same blank, distant look that Giyuu used.
"I understand," you said.
That was it. No argument. No glare. You didn't even try to explain the difficulty of the fight.
You simply bowed respectfully toward Kagaya and stepped back into your place.
Sanemi frowned, his brow furrowing deeper. He stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if he had forgotten his next insult.
For some reason, your lack of a reaction irritated him more than a shouting match would have.
You remembered the first time you met Sanemi.
It was a literal blur of a memory, a fragment from months ago. You had been on a joint mission, though you weren't working directly with him. You were acting as a field medic, moving between the wounded and patching them up before the demons could finish them off.
You remembered seeing him for the first time. He was a whirlwind of violence, tearing through demons with a ferocity that was almost frightening. When the battle ended, you had approached him to check a deep gash on his arm.
He had looked at you with a suspicious glare, but he hadn't pushed you away. You didn't speak much—only asking him to hold still while you applied the bandage. He had watched you work, his expression neutral.
He hadn't snapped at you. He hadn't yelled. He had actually answered one of your questions about the demon's movement without sounding like he wanted to kill you.
You had thought he was intense, but not unkind.
A week later, you were at the Butterfly Estate, helping Mitsuri organize medical supplies. Sanemi had arrived to pick up medicine for Genya.
Mitsuri had beamed, pulling you forward.
"Sanemi! Look, this is my Tsuguko! Isn't she wonderful? She's so hardworking and reliable!"
Sanemi had shrugged, glancing at you. He didn't seem to dislike you. You were quiet, you didn't get in his way, and you did your job. In his mind, you were less annoying than ninety percent of the people he had to deal with.
Then, Obanai had walked up.
"Oh, you've met her?" Obanai asked casually. "She's Tomioka's younger sister."
You remembered the exact moment the air shifted.
Sanemi's entire posture had hardened. His eyes had narrowed, and the neutral expression he had worn for weeks vanished, replaced by a look of pure, concentrated dislike.
Obanai had looked confused by the reaction, but Sanemi didn't care.
From that day forward, everything changed.
The greetings became cold. The conversations became shorter. Every time you made a mistake—a dropped vial, a slightly loose bandage—he found a way to relate it back to your brother. He started treating you as if you were an extension of Giyuu, as if your blood alone made you arrogant or detached.
You had never understood why. You had never asked him.
You simply assumed that Sanemi Shinazugawa didn't like you.
Mitsuri rested her chin on her hands. She leaned closer, a mischievous smile on her face.
Shinobu glanced at her and sighed. She knew that look. It meant Mitsuri was about to ask something completely random. You looked up from the herbs and nodded.
"Out of all the Hashira... has anyone caught your eye?"
You blinked. You didn't understand the question at first. Shinobu raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea. She looked interested.
"I mean... someone you think is really good-looking."
You stayed quiet. You weren't embarrassed. You were actually thinking.
You went through the Hashira one by one in your head. Gyomei looked dependable. Tengen was obviously attractive and confident. Muichiro had delicate features, even if he always looked blank. Obanai wasn't unattractive, but the bandages covered most of his face. Rengoku looked warm and approachable.
Then there was Giyuu. He was your brother. You dismissed that thought immediately.
Then you thought of Sanemi. His face appeared in your mind. Messy white hair. Sharp purple eyes. The scars crossing his face. He always had a scowl, but it suited him.
He was handsome. He was also hot-tempered. He was mean.
You frowned. Why were you thinking about him longer than the others?
He yelled at you almost every time you saw him. He had never smiled at you. Most of your conversations ended with him insulting you or Giyuu. You didn't understand why your mind kept returning to his face.
You stopped sorting the herbs. Your hands stayed still. You stared blankly at the basket, trying to figure out your own thoughts.
The silence lasted long enough for Mitsuri and Shinobu to look at each other. "Oh!" Mitsuri clapped her hands. "You're thinking really hard!"
Shinobu smiled behind her teacup. "She's taking the question more seriously than I expected."
Mitsuri started listing names. "Maybe it's Rengoku-san? He's very handsome! Lots of people think so." She giggled and placed a hand over her chest. "He's kind and reliable too!"
You didn't answer. "...Or Tengen-san?"
Still nothing. Shinobu tilted her head. "You've become unusually quiet." Mitsuri tapped her chin. She laughed to herself.
"Well... it definitely can't be Shinazugawa-san."
She waved her hands. "He's always so mean to you." The moment Sanemi's name was mentioned, you looked up. Shinobu and Mitsuri didn't miss it. They looked at each other, then looked back at you.
"...Is it Shinazugawa-san?" Shinobu asked. Your eyes widened slightly. You looked away immediately.
It wasn't your usual flat answer. You hesitated. Your fingers tightened around the basket. You looked back down at the herbs. "I've never... thought about it before." Mitsuri gasped. She put both hands on her cheeks.
"Oh my goodness." Shinobu gently smacked Mitsuri's shoulder. "Don't scare her."
"But Kocho-san!" Mitsuri whispered loudly. "She's blushing!"
You touched your cheek. "...Am I?" Mitsuri leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "I have an idea!"
"I already dislike this idea."
"The next time you accidentally meet Shinazugawa-san..."
Mitsuri pointed a finger. "Look directly at his face."
"If your heart flutters..." She smiled.
"Then congratulations. You think he's handsome." Shinobu stared at her for a few seconds. She tapped her forehead.
"That's not how emotions work." Mitsuri laughed. "Maybe it works for her!"
The conversation ended soon after, but Mitsuri's suggestion stayed in your head. As you walked back to your room, you repeated the words.
Look at his face. If your heart flutters...
A few days later, you were carrying medicine back toward the Butterfly Estate. You heard footsteps.
You looked up. It was Sanemi.
He hadn't noticed you yet. You remembered Mitsuri's advice.
As you got closer, you lifted your head. You looked directly at his face. You didn't just glance. You stared.
You noticed the sharp line of his jaw. You looked at the scars on his skin. You saw the way his white hair fell over his forehead and those purple eyes that always looked irritated.
You kept staring. Five seconds. Seven. Ten.
Sanemi stopped walking. "...The hell are you staring at?" You didn't answer right away. You kept looking. His eyebrow twitched.
"Got something to say?" You nodded once.
Sanemi folded his arms. "...Well?"
"You are..." You paused. You wanted to be accurate.
Sanemi blinked. "...What?"
You kept your face expressionless.
"You are also very hot-tempered."
"And unnecessarily mean to me."
"I still don't know why."
Sanemi just stared. He looked like his brain had stopped working. He had expected an insult. He had expected a fight. He hadn't expected this. "...Are you making fun of me?"
You bowed politely. You walked past him as if nothing had happened.
Sanemi stayed in the middle of the path. He watched you leave with a confused expression.
"...What the fuck was that?"
A few days later, a crow arrived with orders. For the first time, you and Sanemi were assigned to the same mission.
The village was small, nestled in a valley where the air felt thick and damp. The demon had been picking off travelers, leaving nothing but bloodstains on the road.
As you tracked the creature, the tension between you was evident. You didn't fight the same way. Sanemi was a storm; he charged in with everything he had, relying on raw power and aggression to overwhelm the enemy. You were the opposite. You waited. You watched. You waited for the one moment of weakness before striking with precision.
"Move your ass, Tomioka!" Sanemi yelled during the first encounter. "Stop standing there like a statue and hit the damn thing!"
"I am waiting for an opening," you replied.
"The opening is wherever I make one!"
The fight grew harder as the sun set. The demon was stronger than the reports had suggested. It had multiple limbs and a regeneration speed that made the battle drag on.
When the demon finally crumbled into ash, you slumped against a tree. A deep gash ran across your side, and your breathing was ragged.
Sanemi landed beside you, his own uniform torn and bloodied. He looked at your wound and scowled.
"You're bleeding," he said.
"I can walk," you replied, trying to stand up. You winced as the movement pulled at the cut.
"Stop being stubborn," Sanemi snapped.
Before you could protest, he reached out and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you toward him. He didn't ask; he just shifted your weight so you were leaning against his side. He wrapped an arm around you to keep you steady.
You didn't make a big deal out of it. You didn't blush or get flustered. You just leaned into him.
"Thank you," you said quietly.
"Whatever," he muttered. "Just don't bleed on me."
The walk back to the village was slow. The forest was quiet. You were unusually silent, your head resting slightly against his shoulder as you navigated the uneven terrain.
"What's wrong with you?" Sanemi asked eventually. "You're quieter than usual. That's saying something."
You thought about the conversation you'd had with Mitsuri weeks ago. You thought about her advice to look at his face and check if your heart fluttered.
"I was thinking about something Kanroji-san said," you told him.
"The Love Hashira? What the hell is she talking about now?"
"She told me about 'heart flutters,'" you said. "She said that if you feel a certain warmth around someone, it might mean something."
Sanemi stopped walking. He looked down at you, his purple eyes wide.
"And?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.
"I feel a warmth when I am around you," you said calmly. "I wondered if that means something."
Sanemi’s face exploded in a bright red flush. He practically shoved you away, though he kept his hand on your arm to make sure you didn't fall.
"Stop thinking about stupid things!" he yelled. "Your brain is broken! You're just delirious from the blood loss!"
You looked up at him, your expression as blank as ever. "Why are you embarrassed if the question is stupid?"
Sanemi opened his mouth to shout, but no sound came out. He looked away, his face still flaming. He didn't have an answer. He couldn't explain why the simple observation made him feel like he was losing a fight he didn't know he was in.
"Shut up," he finally managed. "We're almost back. Just shut up."
He changed the subject to the quality of the mission reports, talking loudly and aggressively about how the crows were incompetent, but he didn't let go of your arm for the rest of the trip.
When you finally reached the Butterfly Estate, Mitsuri was waiting by the gate. She saw the two of you—you leaning heavily against Sanemi, his arm firmly around you—and her eyes widened. She gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks.
Shinobu was standing beside her, watching with a knowing, quiet smile.
You looked at them and then back at Sanemi.
"Why are they looking at us like that?" you asked.
"I don't know!" Sanemi barked, though he didn't push you away immediately. "They're just weird!"
Mitsuri hurried toward you, her face lighting up before it suddenly dropped. She stopped a few feet away, her eyes widening as she looked at your waist.
"Oh no! You're bleeding so much!" Mitsuri cried, her hands flying to her cheeks.
Shinobu appeared beside her, her expression shifting from a polite smile to a sharp, clinical frown. She didn't say a word at first, just stepped closer to examine the saturation of your clothes.
"I'm fine," you said. Your voice sounded far away, even to yourself.
Sanemi grunted, shifting his weight. He had a few shallow cuts on his arms and a bruise forming on his jaw, but he looked mostly intact.
"I've got some scratches, but they can wait," Sanemi muttered, though his eyes were locked on the blood dripping from your hem. "Get her inside."
Mitsuri didn't need to be told twice. She hovered around you, her worry palpable, as she helped guide you into the infirmary. Shinobu led the way, her pace quick and efficient.
"Sit down right here," Shinobu ordered, pointing to a wooden chair. "Don't move. I need to see how deep that gash is before you lose any more."
You sat, the coolness of the chair feeling strange against your skin. Just as Shinobu reached for her medical kit, the door slid open with a loud crash. Aoi rushed in, her face pale and breathless.
"Shinobu-sama! A group of slayers just returned from the north mission," Aoi shouted. "Five of them are in critical condition, and more are arriving every few minutes. They're bleeding out in the hallway."
Shinobu froze. She looked at Aoi, then back at you. You could see the conflict in her eyes. You were losing a dangerous amount of blood, but there were others who were worse off and more numerous.
"Treat the others first," you told her. "There are more of them. They need you more than I do."
Shinobu frowned, her voice firm. "You are my patient right now. You can't just ignore a wound like that."
"I can wait," you replied. You didn't feel the need to argue. It was a simple calculation. "Prioritize the larger group."
Sanemi, who had been sitting on a nearby bench while Aoi quickly wrapped a bandage around his forearm, rolled his eyes. He let out a harsh, clicking sound with his tongue.
"There it is," Sanemi muttered. "That damn Tomioka side is showing again."
You looked at him, your expression blank. You didn't have the energy to snap back.
"They need treatment more urgently," you repeated.
Sanemi stood up, his irritation spiking. He stepped closer, his purple eyes searching your face. He could tell you were downplaying the pain, the way you were gripping the edge of the seat just to stay upright.
"Being stubborn isn't the same thing as being selfless, you idiot," Sanemi snapped. "Look at yourself. You're practically white."
"I'm fine," you whispered.
The words felt heavy. As you spoke, the edges of your vision began to blur, the colors of the room bleeding into one another. The sound of Sanemi's voice started to muffle, like he was speaking to you from underwater.
Shinobu noticed the change immediately. She saw the way your eyelids flickered and how your posture slumped.
"Aoi, stay with them," Shinobu commanded. "Keep pressure on that wound. I'll go treat the others and come back the second I can."
Shinobu disappeared back into the hallway. You felt a sudden surge of restlessness. You didn't like just sitting there while others worked. As Aoi turned to grab more gauze from a nearby table, you tried to stand up to help her.
The moment you put weight on your legs, the room tilted forty-five degrees.
Your stomach lurched. You reached out for the edge of the table, but your hand missed by several inches, sliding uselessly through the air.
Before you could hit the floor, a rough hand clamped around your arm, yanking you back.
"Dammit!" Sanemi cursed. He gripped your shoulder and arm, hauling you back into the chair with a forceful shove. "Sit down before you make everything worse!"
"I can... help," you murmured.
Sanemi looked at you, and for the first time, the anger in his eyes was replaced by something that looked like genuine alarm. You were barely keeping your head up; your chin was dipping toward your chest.
"You've already lost too much blood," he growled, though his voice lacked its usual bite. "This stupid habit of putting everyone else first is going to get you killed. Do you get that? It's pathetic."
You didn't respond. You couldn't. Your head felt like a lead weight, and the sounds of the estate were fading into a dull hum.
Sanemi kept his hand firmly around your arm to steady you. He looked toward the doorway, his jaw tight. As your muscles gave out completely, your weight shifted, leaning heavily against his chest.
Your head dropped onto his shoulder.
Sanemi froze. He stopped breathing for a second, his entire body turning rigid. He looked down at you, waiting for you to jump back, to apologize, or to make some blank comment about the proximity.
But you didn't move. Your breathing was shallow and quiet, and you were completely limp in his arms.
"Kocho!" Sanemi yelled, his voice booming through the infirmary, much louder than necessary. "Kocho, get your ass back in here right now! She's out!"
Aoi rushed back into the room and stopped dead. She saw you draped across Sanemi, who was now supporting almost all of your weight, his expression a mix of panic and fury.
"Get Shinobu!" Sanemi barked at Aoi. "Now! And don't tell her to hurry—just drag her here!"
He didn't move you. He stayed exactly where he was, holding you against him until Shinobu finally burst back into the room.
"Lay her on the bed," Shinobu ordered, taking charge instantly.
Sanemi carefully lowered you onto the mattress. He stepped back quickly, as if he had been burned, and moved toward the wall. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, watching every move Shinobu made as she began to stitch the wound and administer fluids.
Mitsuri drifted in a few minutes later, her eyes watery.
"Is she going to be okay?" Mitsuri whispered.
"She's stable," Shinobu replied without looking up. "But she lost a lot of blood. She needs total rest for a few days."
Sanemi didn't say anything. He didn't leave. He stood by the wall, his gaze fixed on your pale face. He felt unsettled, a strange knot tightening in his gut. He had seen plenty of slayers pass out from blood loss; he had seen people die in the dirt. He usually didn't care.
The door slid open again. Giyuu walked in.
He stopped the moment he saw you unconscious on the bed. His usually blank expression shifted, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he walked toward you. Then, he noticed Sanemi.
The two men stared at each other. For a long moment, neither spoke. Giyuu looked confused, wondering why Sanemi was still in the room and why he looked so tense. Sanemi braced himself, expecting Giyuu to say something irritating or accusatory.
Giyuu didn't. He didn't even look at Sanemi for more than a second.
"What happened?" Giyuu asked quietly.
"Blood loss," Shinobu explained. "She lost consciousness after trying to push through it. But she's stable now."
Giyuu moved closer, reaching out to touch your forehead and check your breathing. He looked back at Sanemi.
"Yeah," Sanemi grunted. "We came back together. I caught her when she collapsed."
Giyuu looked at Sanemi again. Sanemi immediately shifted his weight, becoming defensive.
"I only did what anyone else would've done, Tomioka! Don't make a big deal out of it!"
Sanemi lay flat on his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his room. He didn't sleep much after missions. His body was too used to the hum of adrenaline and the dull throb of old scars to shut down easily. Usually, he welcomed the wakefulness. Tonight, it felt like a trap.
Sanemi rolled onto his side, his jaw tight. He told himself it was just professional concern. You were a Hashira. You were an asset to the Corps. If you died because of some avoidable blood loss, it would be a waste of resources.
The excuse didn't work. It felt thin and fake.
He turned over again, staring back at the ceiling. He wondered if you were awake. He wondered if Shinobu had managed to stop the bleeding or if you were still drifting in and out of consciousness. He could already hear the voice in his head—your voice—telling him that you were fine. He knew exactly what you would say. You would tell him you didn't need anyone worrying about you and that the other slayers needed the doctors more.
"Stubborn idiot," he muttered.
The words were out loud, but they didn't stop the thoughts. He spent the rest of the night like that, caught between irritation and a restlessness he couldn't name. By the time the first light of morning hit the walls, Sanemi gave up on sleep.
He decided to go to the Butterfly Estate.
Shinobu was already outside when he arrived. She stood near the entrance, her posture straight and her expression unreadable. She noticed him the moment he stepped into view. She didn't wave or smile. She simply watched him approach with a look of deep suspicion.
"What are you doing here so early, Shinazugawa-san?" she asked.
Sanemi didn't slow his pace. He kept his eyes forward.
"I came to have my wound checked," he said.
Shinobu stopped walking and looked at him. She tilted her head, her purple eyes scanning the shallow cut on his arm.
"Why didn't you come yesterday when I offered to treat it?" she asked.
Sanemi shifted his weight, his voice getting louder.
"I didn't feel like waiting around yesterday. I had things to do."
"Your injury isn't serious enough to suddenly require medical attention at dawn," Shinobu replied calmly. "Why come all the way here specifically now? You could have bandaged that yourself or waited for your next scheduled visit."
Sanemi frowned, his brow furrowing.
"I'm just being responsible about my health. Is that a crime?"
Shinobu sighed. The polite mask shifted, and she looked at him with a bluntness that made him bristle.
"You are a terrible liar when you're trying to hide something this obvious."
"Stop acting like you know everything, Kocho!" Sanemi snapped.
"I don't have to act," she said, her voice remaining level. "I've watched you over the last few weeks. You've changed."
Sanemi stiffened. "I haven't changed a damn thing."
"You used to insult her every time she entered the room," Shinobu reminded him. "You treated her like an enemy simply because she was Giyuu's sister. But lately, you've been bringing her food. You leave medicine and bandages for her. You stay by her side after missions. And yesterday, you nearly panicked when she lost consciousness."
"Anyone would have done the same thing!" Sanemi shouted.
"Would you have reacted the same way if it had been any other Hashira?"
Sanemi didn't answer. He looked away, his gaze landing on a nearby fence.
"What do you actually feel for her?" Shinobu asked.
"Nothing!" he barked, turning back to her. "She's just another Hashira. I'm making sure she's capable of doing her job so she doesn't get in my way."
"You have never shown that much concern for people you consider 'just another Hashira,'" Shinobu pointed out.
"Stop putting words in my mouth!"
"I'm not putting anything there," she replied. "You're the one showing it."
Sanemi stepped closer, his expression fierce.
"She's Tomioka's sister. I'm just making sure she doesn't get herself killed because she's too stubborn to know when to stop. It's a matter of efficiency."
"Your hatred for Giyuu was exactly why you treated her so badly in the beginning," Shinobu said. "So, what changed?"
Sanemi fell silent. He opened his mouth to argue, but no reason came out that made sense. He couldn't explain why he suddenly cared if you were bleeding out or why the thought of you being unconscious had kept him awake all night.
Shinobu's expression softened, though her voice remained sharp.
"You know, she might actually be capable of liking you."
Sanemi looked at her, his eyes widening. He looked almost offended.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"She has admitted that she thinks you're handsome," Shinobu explained. "She's become comfortable around you. She trusts you during missions. She notices the small things you do for her, even if she doesn't always understand why you're doing them."
Sanemi felt a strange heat climb up his neck. Before he could process it, Shinobu added another layer.
"However, I wouldn't exactly recommend you as a person for her to fall for right now."
Sanemi stared at her, confused and irritated.
"What is your problem? What do you mean you wouldn't recommend me?"
"If she developed feelings for you, I wouldn't blame her," Shinobu said bluntly. "But I wouldn't blame her if she decided against it, either."
"Think about how you treated her when you first met," Shinobu said. "Think about how often you insulted her. You used her brother as an excuse to take your anger out on her. And the worst part is, she never fought back. She didn't argue. She just accepted it because she was used to being treated that way."
Sanemi went quiet. The anger left him, replaced by a cold, heavy realization.
"Being capable of liking someone doesn't mean being willing to put up with them forever," Shinobu finished.
Sanemi didn't speak. He actually thought about it. He remembered every time he had called you "Tomioka" just to see if he could get a rise out of you. He remembered telling you that you weren't worth his time, trying to provoke you because he expected you to react with the same coldness as Giyuu.
But you never did. You had simply taken the hits. You had continued to treat him normally, even when he had been nothing but cruel.
"She doesn't hold grudges easily," Shinobu said softly. "But that doesn't mean she isn't capable of deciding that someone isn't worth her time."
That was the part that hit him. Sanemi had been so focused on whether he liked you that he had never considered if you would actually want someone like him. He thought about the way you looked at him when you called him handsome. He thought about the quiet smile you gave him after the mission.
The thought of you deciding he wasn't worth it bothered him more than the thought of admitting he cared.
Shinobu watched the realization settle on his face. She didn't tease him. She didn't smile.
"If you really do care about her," she said, "then stop making her pay for a grudge she had nothing to do with."
Sanemi didn't give her a dramatic answer. He didn't apologize or make a promise. He only looked toward the hallway that led deeper into the estate.
"Is she awake yet?" he asked quietly.
Shinobu raised an eyebrow.
"She's awake and recovering," Shinobu replied. "But don't upset her."
"I wasn't planning to," Sanemi muttered. He paused, his voice dropping. "Does she know how worried everyone was when she collapsed?"
"She probably doesn't realize how serious it was."
Sanemi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He understood now. If he wanted anything to change, he couldn't hide behind insults. He still didn't know exactly what he felt, and he wasn't ready to say it, but he knew one thing.
He didn't want to be another person in your life who made you feel like you had to quietly endure everything.
He had come here claiming he needed a wound checked, but as he stood there, he knew the truth. He just needed to see you.
Your eyes opened slowly. Your body felt heavy, as if your limbs were made of lead, and a dull ache pulsed through your side. For a few seconds, you didn't know where you were. Then you smelled the sharp, clean scent of medicinal herbs and felt the rough texture of bandages wrapped tightly around your torso.
Mitsuri rushed to your bedside, her face lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. She looked like she had been holding her breath for hours.
"What happened?" you asked. Your voice sounded scratchy and thin.
"You lost way too much blood," Mitsuri explained, her voice softening. "You just collapsed. Shinobu-san managed to treat you before it became a real emergency, but you've been out for a while."
You stared at the ceiling, trying to piece the memories together. You remembered the heat of the battle and the sudden, jarring feeling of the world tilting on its axis. You remembered the coldness that had crept into your fingertips just before everything went black.
Mitsuri stayed by your side, chatting in a way that filled the room. She told you how worried everyone had been. She leaned in, her expression becoming serious.
"You really need to stop pretending you can handle everything by yourself," she said. "You're a Hashira, but you're still human."
You listened quietly. You didn't know how to tell her that being alone was simply easier.
Two days later, Shinobu entered the room with her usual calm smile. She checked your bandages and told you that you were well enough to leave. She warned you not to overwork yourself and to keep the wound clean, or you'd find yourself back in a bed very quickly.
"Thank you for everything, Shinobu-san," you said.
You spent the next hour saying goodbye. You thanked Aoi for the meals and gave Kanao a small, quiet nod. When it was time to leave, Mitsuri wrapped you in a hug that nearly squeezed the air out of your lungs.
"Promise me you won't start training the second you get home!" she pleaded.
The walk back to Giyuu's estate was slow. Your body still felt a bit fragile, and every step reminded you of the blood you'd lost. When you finally walked through the gates, Giyuu was already there. He didn't say hello immediately; instead, his eyes went straight to the bandages peeking out from under your uniform.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.
"I'm fine now," you replied. "Thank you for visiting me while I was out."
Giyuu nodded once. He looked like he wanted to say something more but stopped himself. He turned and disappeared into one of the side rooms, returning a moment later with a small object wrapped in simple paper. He held it out to you without any explanation.
You took the gift and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a small, finely crafted accessory—something elegant and understated. You looked up at him, confused.
"I never properly congratulated you when you became a Hashira," Giyuu said. He wouldn't meet your eyes. "I wanted to do it sooner, but I never found the right time."
"You don't have to apologize," you told him. "The timing doesn't matter. I appreciate it."
Giyuu watched you for a long moment. His expression remained neutral, but his gaze was soft.
"I'm proud of you," he said.
The words were simple, but you knew how much effort it took for him to say them. You thanked him again, and for a while, the two of you just sat together in a comfortable, shared silence. It was the only kind of silence you ever truly enjoyed.
Suddenly, Giyuu stood up.
"Sit there and wait," he commanded. "I'm going to make you something to eat."
"I can make my own food, Giyuu," you protested. He ignored you and walked into the kitchen. You watched him from the porch, listening to the sound of vegetables being chopped and the clink of pots. He moved with a quiet efficiency.
"Kocho told me something interesting," Giyuu said casually over his shoulder.
"She said that you and Shinazugawa have been getting along lately."
You blinked, genuinely confused. You didn't know where Shinobu had gotten that idea. "We aren't 'getting along,'" you replied. "Shinazugawa is still Shinazugawa. He still gets irritated with me, he still insults me, and he spends half his time complaining about you whenever he sees us."
Giyuu paused his chopping. He turned his head slightly to look at you. "Apparently, that isn't what Shinobu meant."
"Then what did she mean?"
"She said he treats you differently than he treats everyone else," Giyuu explained, returning to the meal. "Especially after this last mission. She said he seemed genuinely worried when you collapsed."
You didn't know how to respond. You had never looked at his actions from that perspective. In your mind, Sanemi was just a difficult man who had decided to be slightly less mean to you. You had never considered that his behavior might be driven by something other than a begrudging respect for your rank.
Giyuu continued preparing the food.
"I'm glad you're getting along," he said quietly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be alone or constantly defend yourself around the other Hashira." He didn't bring up his own history with Sanemi, but you could tell he was relieved. It was a rare emotion for him.
You looked down at the gift in your lap and thought back to Mitsuri's words. You remembered the image of Sanemi standing by your bed while you were unconscious, refusing to leave until he was forced to. You wondered why he had stayed. You wondered why a man who hated almost everyone had spent his dawn hours worrying about you.
You didn't have an answer, but for the first time, you realized you had been looking at Sanemi too simply. Giyuu walked over and placed a steaming bowl of food in front of you.
"Eat before it gets cold," he said.
"Thank you," you replied.
Master Ubuyashiki gave you a direct order to rest. Your injuries were healing, but he insisted you stay away from active missions for a few weeks to ensure you didn't reopen your wounds. For someone with your personality, sitting still was a form of torture. You didn't know how to handle idle time. You spent the first few days staring at the walls of your estate, your mind looping through the battle that had put you in the infirmary.
You couldn't just do nothing. Eventually, you started spending your mornings at the training grounds. You didn't lead the official drills, but you watched the younger slayers from the sidelines. You noticed a group of them struggling with their footwork, their movements clunky and wasteful.
"P-Petal Hashira!" he stammered.
"Stop shaking," you told him. "If you lean back like that, you lose your balance. Shift your weight forward. Use the momentum of your hips, not just your arms."
You demonstrated the movement. It was a small adjustment, but when the slayer tried it again, the swing was faster and cleaner. He looked shocked. Other slayers began to gather around you, asking for tips on their breathing techniques.
You found that you had a lot of patience for them. Unlike the higher ranks, these kids weren't burdened by politics or deep-seated grudges. They just wanted to survive. You spent the next two weeks correcting their grips, showing them how to breathe without straining their lungs, and teaching them how to conserve energy during long fights.
The lower-ranked slayers grew comfortable with you. They liked that you didn't bark orders or make them feel inferior. You just stood there, quiet and steady, offering a correction here and there. You started to enjoy the routine. It gave you a purpose that didn't involve bleeding out in a forest.
But as the days turned into weeks, you noticed a gap in your routine.
At first, it didn't bother you. You knew the Hashira were constantly deployed. Sanemi was one of the most aggressive fighters in the Corps; it made sense that he was always on the move. You told yourself that his absence was normal. You didn't need to see him. You had your training, your brother, and your recovery.
However, by the second week, the absence started to feel heavy. You found yourself glancing toward the entrance of the training grounds every time a new person arrived. You expected to see that scarred face and that permanent scowl. You expected him to walk up to you and say something insulting about your teaching methods or complain about Giyuu.
When he didn't appear, you felt a strange, dull sensation in your chest. It wasn't pain, but it wasn't peace either.
One afternoon, you were training with Mitsuri. She was helping you regain your full range of motion, her movements fluid and energetic. You were both catching your breath, leaning against a wooden fence.
"Have you seen Shinazugawa lately?" you asked.
The question came out more casually than you intended, but your voice remained flat.
Mitsuri beamed at you, her eyes sparkling.
"Oh, I have! I saw him just a couple of days ago," she replied. "We've actually been passing each other quite a bit. Our schedules have been opposite lately, so we just wave and keep moving."
You went quiet. You looked down at your hands, watching the way your fingers curled. If she had seen him, that meant he was around. He was in the area, or at least visiting the headquarters. He hadn't come to see you.
Mitsuri stopped talking. She tilted her head, watching your expression. A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face.
"Do you miss him?" she teased.
You looked up at her, your expression blank.
"No," you said immediately.
"Really?" Mitsuri giggled, leaning in closer. "Because you asked about him out of nowhere. And you have that look on your face. The one you get when you're thinking about something you don't want to admit."
"I don't have a look on my face," you replied. "I only asked because I haven't seen him in a while. I wanted to know if he was doing well."
"Doing well! How modest!" Mitsuri laughed, clapping her hands. "You totally miss him! You miss the way he yells! You miss his grumpy face!"
"I don't," you insisted, though your voice sounded less certain. "I don't miss him at all."
Mitsuri continued to tease you for the rest of the session, making jokes about secret longing and hidden crushes. Eventually, you got annoyed enough to walk away, leaving her laughing behind you.
But later, when you were alone in your room, the questions didn't go away. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.
You closed your eyes and thought about the Hashira meetings. You realized that every time you walked into a room, your eyes instinctively searched for him. You were looking for the white haori and the scars.
Across the estate, Sanemi was sitting on a porch with Obanai. They had just finished a grueling training session, and both were drenched in sweat. Sanemi was leaning back on his elbows, staring at the sky with a frustrated expression.
"Mitsuri mentioned something to me earlier," Obanai said, his voice muffled by his bandages.
Sanemi didn't look at him. "What now?"
"She said you two have been passing each other a lot lately. She also mentioned that the Petal Hashira was asking about you."
Sanemi went stiff. He stopped breathing for a second, his gaze locking onto a single point on the ground. He didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened.
Obanai watched him. He knew Sanemi well enough to see the shift in his energy.
"Have you been avoiding her?" Obanai asked.
"I haven't been avoiding anyone," Sanemi snapped, though there was no real heat in it. "I've been busy. Missions, reports, the usual shit. We just haven't crossed paths."
"Right. For two weeks," Obanai replied dryly. Sanemi sighed and looked away. He remained silent for a long time, the only sound being the distant noise of other slayers training.
"I'm just confused," Sanemi admitted quietly.
"I don't get why I keep thinking about her," Sanemi continued, his voice low and rough. "I notice when she's not there. I notice when the room is too quiet. And hearing that she asked about me... it made me feel something. I don't know what it is, but it felt like a relief."
Obanai shifted his position, looking at Sanemi with a calculating gaze.
Sanemi immediately tried to scoff. He opened his mouth to shout a denial, to tell Obanai he was talking nonsense, but the words didn't come. He stopped himself. He stared at the wooden planks of the porch, his mind racing.
"Do I?" Sanemi whispered.
"Maybe," he said, his voice barely audible. "Maybe I... like her."
He looked away, appearing irritated with himself. He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you actually care about her, avoiding her isn't going to fix anything," Obanai said.
Sanemi groaned. "I know."
"You still haven't apologized, have you?"
Sanemi stiffened. "For what?"
"For the way you treated her at the start. For taking your hatred of Tomioka out on her."
Sanemi didn't answer. He didn't have to. The guilt was written all over his face. He had been cruel to you simply because of your bloodline. He had tried to push you away, and you had responded with kindness and trust.
"I can't change how I started," Obanai reminded him. "But you can decide how you act now."
"The next time I see her," Sanemi said, his voice firming up, "I'm going to talk to her. Properly."
Several days passed. You were finally cleared for active duty. The feeling of putting your uniform back on and securing your sword at your waist felt like coming back to life. You were standing outside the Butterfly Estate, checking your gear one last time.
Your Kasugai Crow was perched on your shoulder, shouting the details of your mission. It was an urgent call—reports of a demon sighting in a nearby village. You listened to the bird, but your mind was drifting.
Without meaning to, you looked around the courtyard. You scanned the area, your eyes searching for a specific white haori. You were expecting to see Sanemi. You didn't know why you were expecting him, but the habit had become ingrained in you.
You looked back at your sword, a small, sharp pinch of disappointment hitting you. You quickly pushed it down.
"I'm not disappointed," you told yourself. You adjusted the strap of your equipment.
You turned toward the road, ready to leave the estate and begin your journey. You took one step forward when a voice cut through the air.
You froze. Your heart gave a sudden, violent thud against your ribs. You slowly turned around.
Sanemi was standing a few steps away. He looked like he had been searching for you. He wasn't wearing his usual aggressive stance; he was just standing there, his hands hanging at his sides.
Neither of you spoke for a few seconds. The silence felt different than it used to. It wasn't tense or hostile. It was heavy with everything that hadn't been said over the last few weeks.
You looked at him quietly. You noticed that his expression wasn't a scowl. His eyes were soft, almost searching. He looked at you as if he were trying to memorize your face, as if he were making sure you were actually there and not a ghost.
"How are the injuries?" he asked. His voice was quieter than usual. "I'm completely recovered," you replied.
Sanemi gave a small nod. You could see the relief wash over him, though he tried to mask it by looking away. He shifted his weight, looking like he was struggling with a thought. "I actually came here because there's something I need to tell you," he said.
You waited. You didn't move, your curiosity piqued by the seriousness in his tone. Sanemi had never been the type to "have something to tell" someone. He usually just yelled it until they understood. Sanemi took a deep breath. He looked you in the eyes, his expression earnest.
"There are things I should have explained a long time ago," he started. "Especially about the way I treated you. After I found out you were a Tomioka, I... I wasn't fair. I took things out on you that had nothing to do with you."
Before he could continue, your crow suddenly erupted into a frenzy of screaming. "LEAVE NOW! URGENT! MISSION START! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"
The bird fluttered wildly around your head, its voice piercing the moment. Both of you looked up at the crow. The urgency in the bird's tone was clear—this wasn't a mission that could wait five minutes.
You looked back at Sanemi. You could see the frustration on his face. He had finally built up the courage to say this, and now the timing was ruining it. "What was it you wanted to tell me?" you asked softly.
Sanemi hesitated. He looked at the road, then back at you. He didn't want to rush this. He had spent days thinking about how to apologize, and he didn't want to throw it away in a hurried conversation while you were halfway out the door. "Next time," he said. "I'll tell you next time."
You studied his face for a moment. You could tell he was sincere. You gave him a small, quiet nod. "Okay."
You turned to leave, starting down the path. You had only taken a few steps when you heard your name. "Wait."
You stopped and looked back over your shoulder. Sanemi was still standing where you left him. His expression had softened completely. For the first time since you had known him, there was no insult, no irritation, and no anger in his voice.
"Come back safe," he said.
You stood there for a second, frozen. The words were simple, but coming from him, they felt monumental. They weren't just a polite parting; they were an admission. He cared if you came back.
The mission was supposed to be a simple cleanup. A few reports of missing travelers, a village on edge, and a scent of blood that led you deep into the woods. You didn't expect the air to suddenly thicken with a pressure that made it hard to draw a full breath.
"A woman," he said. His voice was flat, devoid of the bloodlust you usually felt from demons. "I have no interest in fighting you."
You didn't relax your grip. Your face remained blank, mirroring the stoicism you had shared with Giyuu since childhood.
"I'm a Demon Slayer," you replied. "My job is to kill you."
Upper Moon Three, Akaza, that's what he tells you, let out a short, dry laugh. He crossed his arms. "It’s a waste of time. You're physically weaker than a man. There's no challenge in this. Just turn around and go home before you get yourself killed."
You stepped forward. The movement was slow and deliberate.
"I didn't come all this way just to turn around because you don't want to fight me," you said. "If you're an Upper Moon, you should be able to handle a 'weak' opponent without breaking a sweat."
Akaza’s eyes narrowed. The boredom vanished, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. He shifted his stance, his feet planting firmly into the dirt.
"You've got guts," he admitted. "Most people are screaming or shaking by now. Fine. If you're that insistent on dying, I'll give you what you want. But don't complain when you realize how big the gap is."
The fight started in a blur.
You didn't have time to think. You barely had time to breathe. You swung your sword, the movements of Petal Breathing flowing through your limbs. You moved like a falling blossom, shifting your weight to dodge his initial strike.
Akaza looked at the scratch. He looked surprised.
"Not bad," he said. "Your technique is refined. You're stronger than the average slayer."
But the compliment didn't stop the onslaught. The moment he stopped playing, the world shifted. You had fought demons before, but this was different. Every time you thought you had found an opening, he was already there. His punches were like cannonballs, hitting the air with enough force to knock the wind out of you even when he didn't make direct contact.
You tried to keep up. Your lungs burned. Your muscles screamed. You managed to land another hit, a quick slash across his chest, but he didn't even flinch. He moved faster than your eyes could track.
One moment you were swinging, and the next, a fist slammed into your ribs.
The impact sent you flying. You crashed through a thicket of trees, the branches snapping against your skin before you hit a rock face with a sickening thud.
You lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy. The world was spinning. You tried to draw a breath, but it came out as a wet, ragged gasp. Your ribs felt like they had been crushed into powder.
Akaza walked toward you, his expression neutral.
"You've fought well," he said. "Most would have stopped after the first hit. You should stop now. If you keep trying, you'll just make the injuries worse."
You didn't answer. You couldn't. You just gripped your sword, your knuckles white. With a guttural groan, you forced yourself to stand. Your legs trembled violently, and you had to lean your weight against the rock behind you.
You raised your sword. The tip of the blade wobbled. "Stubborn," Akaza remarked. He sounded almost impressed. "I respect that. But it's useless."
Your vision blurred again. The trees seemed to melt into one another. Your breathing became uneven, shallow hitches that didn't provide enough oxygen to your brain. You felt a strange coldness spreading from your fingertips.
Just as you felt your knees give out for the final time, Akaza stopped. He turned his head, looking toward the distance.
At the Hashira headquarters, the atmosphere was quiet. Giyuu stood apart from the others, as usual, his gaze fixed on the ground. Obanai was perched on a low branch, and Rengoku stood with his arms crossed, a disciplined smile on his face.
The meeting was interrupted by a frantic screech.
A Kasugai Crow descended from the sky, circling the courtyard in a panic. It landed with a clumsy thud, its voice piercing and loud.
"CAW! EMERGENCY! UPPER MOON THREE SPOTTED! LOCATION: NORTHERN WOODS! MISSION AREA OF THE PETAL HASHIRA! CAW! TOMIOKA IS IN DANGER!"
Giyuu’s head snapped up. His usual mask of indifference shattered. His eyes widened, his body tensing as if he were ready to sprint right then and there. "Master!"
Obanai shifted on the branch, his brow furrowing. Rengoku’s smile vanished.
Before Giyuu could even speak, Master Ubuyashiki’s calm voice drifted from the porch.
Sanemi, who had been leaning against a pillar with a look of boredom, stiffened the moment he heard your name mentioned by the crow. He didn't wait for the Master to finish the sentence.
"Go immediately," the Master ordered. "Retrieve her."
Sanemi didn't ask for details. He didn't ask how it happened. He was gone in a heartbeat, a blur of white and green moving across the courtyard. He moved faster than you had ever seen him move, his boots kicking up dust.
Shinobu was right behind him, her expression grim. "Sanemi! Slow down!" she called out. "Rushing in blindly will only make things worse if the demon is still there!"
"Shut up!" Sanemi yelled back, not slowing his pace. "We don't have time for your caution! She's out there with an Upper Moon!"
"I know that, but we need a plan!"
"The plan is to get to her before she dies!"
You were lying on your back. The ground was cold. You could see Akaza standing a few feet away. He looked like a smudge of pink and blue against the grey sky. You tried to move your hand, but it felt like it belonged to someone else.
Distant footsteps echoed through the trees. Voices. You couldn't tell who they were. They sounded like they were underwater.
Akaza sensed them first. He looked toward the sound, then looked down at you. He didn't look angry; he just looked disinterested.
"You're lucky," Akaza said. "Your friends arrived just in time." He stepped back, preparing to vanish into the shadows of the forest. He had no reason to stay and fight two Hashira when he had already spent his time with you.
A sudden crash of branches announced their arrival. Sanemi burst into the clearing first. He stopped dead.
The sight of you—broken, bleeding, and barely breathing on the dirt—hit him like a physical blow. His face changed instantly. The anger he usually wore like armor vanished, leaving behind something terrified and raw.
He started moving toward you, his movements frantic. Shinobu arrived a second later, her eyes immediately scanning your injuries. Sanemi noticed Akaza preparing to retreat. Instinctively, he pivoted, his hand gripping his sword. He let out a roar, moving as if to launch himself at the demon.
"Get back here!" he screamed. Shinobu’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm with surprising strength.
"Stop it!" she commanded. "Look at her, Sanemi! She needs us more than that demon needs a fight!" Sanemi froze. He looked at Akaza, who was already fading into the distance, then he looked back at you. You were so still.
"We can't let an Upper Moon escape!" Sanemi argued, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "She is barely conscious!" Shinobu snapped, her voice firm. "If we don't treat her now, she won't make it back. Choose!"
Sanemi looked at you again. He let go of his sword. He rushed to your side and dropped to his knees, the impact jarring the ground. He didn't care about the dirt or the blood staining his uniform.
"Tomioka!" he called out. "Hey! Look at me!" Your eyes fluttered open. Your vision was a blur of colors, but you recognized the white haori. You recognized the scarred face hovering over yours.
"Can you hear me?" he asked. His voice was shaking. You tried to speak. Your lips moved, but only a small, wheezing sound came out.
Sanemi didn't wait for a verbal answer. He carefully slid one arm under your back and the other under your knees. He lifted you from the ground, pulling you tightly against his chest. You were light—too light—and you slumped against him, unable to support your own weight.
"We need to get her back to the Butterfly Estate immediately," Shinobu said, her voice urgent as she checked your pulse. "I know," Sanemi muttered. He didn't argue. He didn't yell. He just held you.
As he began to carry you back, he kept turning his head to look at your face. He was checking to see if your eyes were still open, if you were still there. Every time your head lolled to the side or your breathing slowed, his grip tightened.
"I'm... fine..." you whispered. The words were barely audible, a ghost of a sound. "Shut up!" Sanemi snapped. "Stop saying that! You're clearly not fine, you idiot!"
He stopped himself. His voice dropped, becoming quieter, almost fragile. He realized how weak you sounded. He shifted you, pulling you closer to his heart, as if he could force some of his own strength into you. "Just stay awake," he whispered. "Stay awake for me."
Your eyelids felt like lead. The rhythmic thud of his heart against your ear was soothing, making it easier to let go. Your eyes began to close.
"Y/N? Hey!" Sanemi’s voice rose in panic. He stopped walking for a split second, looking down at you with wide, frightened eyes.
"Don't you dare fall asleep! Do you hear me? Open your eyes!" His voice cracked. It was a sound of pure desperation.
"Y/N... don't you dare die on me."
Sanemi froze. He stared at your still face, the silence of the forest suddenly feeling oppressive.
"Shinobu!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the trees. "Shinobu, she stopped talking! Is she—is she gone?"
He refused to believe it. He shook you slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Get her to the mansion! Now! Move faster!" Shinobu stepped forward, placing a hand on your neck. After a moment, she looked up at him.
"She's still alive, Sanemi. Her heart is beating. But we have to move." Sanemi didn't say another word. He started running, his pace steady and urgent.
His expression was different now. The anger, the pride, the irritation—it was all gone. For the first time in his life, he wasn't thinking about his grudges or the things he hated. He wasn't worrying about whether you would ever truly forgive him or if he would ever find the right words to apologize.
He didn't care about any of that. He only wanted you to breathe. He only wanted you to wake up so he could finally tell you everything he had spent weeks hiding.
Shinobu spent the first few weeks moving around your bed with a clinical, focused energy. She didn't offer false hope, but she didn't stop the treatments either. She just kept working, her expression unreadable as she checked your vitals.
Mitsuri visited every day. She sat by your side and talked about everything and nothing.
"The new recruits are struggling with their footwork today," Mitsuri told you, her voice bright despite the stillness of the room. "You really need to wake up. Everyone is waiting for you."
Giyuu came in quietly. He didn't talk much, and when he did, it was about ordinary things. He told you about the missions he’d taken or the food he’d eaten. He never mentioned how worried he was, but Shinobu noticed he never stayed away for long.
Sanemi was different. For the first few weeks, he was there almost every day. He didn't sit. He stood near Shinobu, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on you.
After the first month, the visits became a habit. One afternoon, Mitsuri stopped talking and looked at you. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You've been out for a month..." she whispered. She forced a laugh. "But you've always been stubborn. You won't give up now."
As the months passed, the Hashira returned to their duties, but your absence left a gap. Younger slayers you had trained started stopping by. They left small notes and fresh flowers on the table beside your bed, remembering how you never lost patience with them.
Sanemi grew quieter. He stopped asking Shinobu for updates because he already knew what she would say. Instead, he started talking to you.
"Tomioka is being a pain again," Sanemi muttered during one of his visits. "He just stands there staring at nothing. It's irritating."
He paused, looking at your pale face.
"The weather is garbage today, too. Just rain and mud."He let out a huff of irritation when you didn't respond. "Still stubborn, even while you're unconscious. Just wake up already."
By the fourth month, Mitsuri's optimism started to fray. She stopped talking about training and started asking questions. Shinobu remained calm, but her movements were tighter, her eyes more tired.
"Shinobu," Mitsuri asked one evening, her voice trembling. "How long can someone actually stay unconscious like this?"
Mitsuri left the room quietly, wiping her eyes. Shinobu stayed behind and checked your pulse one more time.
"You've been out for six months..." she whispered.
The words hung in the air, making the room feel heavier. Giyuu visited later that day, sitting in his usual spot, his presence a silent anchor. Shinobu continued her routine, refusing to stop the treatments even though the progress was nonexistent.
Sanemi arrived toward evening. He didn't speak for a long time. He just stood beside your bed, staring at your face. He looked tired, the sharp edges of his personality worn down by the waiting.
"You're taking far too long," he said, his voice low and rough.He reached out, his hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. "I still have things to say to you. You can't just stay like this."
He didn't know if you could hear him, but he didn't stop. "Wake up. I'm not done talking to you."
The first thing you noticed was the light. It was too bright, stabbing at your eyes and making your head throb. You tried to blink, but your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. Everything was blurry, and the air smelled like medicinal herbs and clean linens.
You tried to move your hand, but it didn't respond. You tried again, focusing all your energy on just one finger, and it finally twitched.
"Don't try to move yet," Shinobu said, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you down. "You've been unconscious for six months."
Six months. The number didn't make sense. You remembered a mission, the smell of blood, and then nothing. You looked at your arms; they were thinner than you remembered. "Why can't I move?" you whispered.
"Your muscles have wasted away from lack of use," Shinobu explained. "You survived, but your body is extremely weak. It's going to take a long time before you can even stand on your own."
A few days later, you decided you had enough of lying in bed. You waited until Shinobu was busy and tried to swing your legs over the side of the mattress. The moment your feet hit the floor, you felt a wave of dizziness. You tried to put weight on your legs to stand, but they buckled instantly. You hit the floor with a dull thud, your breath catching in your throat.
You stared at your legs. They looked the same, but they felt like they belonged to someone else. You remembered being able to swing a sword, training for hours in the heat, and moving with precision. Now, you couldn't even stand up.
"I can't do this," you muttered, a spark of frustration hitting you. "You can. You just can't do it today." Giyuu was standing in the doorway. He didn't rush over to pick you up or make a scene. He just walked over and offered his hand. His expression was the same as always—blank and quiet—but his grip was firm and steady.
Recovery became a slow, repetitive cycle. Giyuu was the one who spent the most time with you. He didn't say much, which suited you perfectly. He helped you sit up, brought you bowls of plain porridge, and held your arm while you practiced taking a single step across the room.
One afternoon, you tried to walk to the window without his help. You made it three steps before your knee gave out. You didn't fall this time because Giyuu caught you by the waist, hauling you back up.
"I used to be stronger than this," you said, looking away.
"You've been asleep for six months," Giyuu replied. "You don't need to recover everything in one day."
You sighed and leaned against him for a second. He didn't move or tell you to get off. He just stayed there, a silent presence that made the frustration feel manageable.
Mitsuri visited more often as you got stronger. She usually burst into the room like a whirlwind, her voice loud and full of energy. The first time she saw you awake, she burst into tears and hugged you so tightly you thought your ribs might crack.
"I missed you so much!" she wailed, rubbing her cheek against yours. "I told you that you were stubborn! I knew you'd come back to us!"
She spent an hour telling you everything you had missed—who had gotten promoted, the gossip about the other Hashira, and how much she had missed your company. Her energy was overwhelming, but it was a welcome distraction from the silence of the recovery ward.
Eventually, Mitsuri told Sanemi that you were awake.
Sanemi didn't come. Not at first.
He knew you were recovering, and he knew that the Butterfly Estate was already crowded with people visiting you. He told himself that you needed rest and that he didn't want to overwhelm you. He told himself he could wait until you were fully healed.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it.
He started visiting the estate late at night. He would slip through the hallways when the lights were dim and the nurses were asleep. He never went inside your room. He would just stop at the sliding door, stand there for a few minutes in the dark, and listen to the sound of your steady breathing.
He didn't know what he wanted to say. He just wanted to make sure you were actually there, that you weren't a dream or a mistake.
Shinobu noticed him, of course. She saw him standing in the shadows of the hallway, his shoulders tense and his gaze fixed on your door. She didn't say anything. She just let him stand there.
Weeks passed, and you finally regained enough strength to move around the mansion with minimal help. You weren't back to your old self, but you could walk short distances without collapsing.
One night, you couldn't sleep. Your stomach was growling, and the hunger was keeping you awake. You had quietly asked Aoi for a small snack, and she had brought you a tray of light food and tea.
You were sitting on your futon, eating slowly and thinking about how strange it felt to be back in the world, when the door suddenly slid open.
Sanemi stepped inside. He didn't knock. He didn't announce himself. He walked in with his usual brisk pace, clearly assuming the room was empty and you were asleep.
He stopped dead the moment he saw you.
You froze, a piece of food halfway to your mouth. You both stared at each other in total silence. Sanemi looked caught, his eyes wide and his expression a mix of surprise and irritation.
"Why the hell are you awake?" he asked, his voice rough and loud in the quiet room.
You blinked, slowly lowering the food. "You're the one who just walked into my room in the middle of the night."
Sanemi scoffed and looked away, crossing his arms. "I thought you were sleeping. I was just checking something before I left."
"Checking what?" you asked. "The dust on the floor?" He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse. He looked awkward, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You noticed he wasn't looking at you directly, which was unusual for him.
"What were you really doing here, Shinazugawa?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes landed on the table. You had tried to push the tea closer to you, but your hand had slipped, and the cup was just out of your reach. You tried to stretch for it, but your arm trembled, and you couldn't quite make it.
Sanemi sighed. He walked over and, without a word, reached out and slid the tea and the plate closer to you so you wouldn't have to strain yourself.
"Thanks," you said quietly.
He didn't leave. He sat down on the floor a few feet away from you, leaning his back against the wall. Neither of you wanted to end the conversation, though neither of you knew how to keep it going.
"How has everyone been?" you asked. "While I was out."
Sanemi shrugged. "The same. The Hashira are as annoying as ever. Iguro is still grumpy, and Uzui is still too loud. I've had to deal with more missions than usual because you weren't around to help with the recruits."
He spent the next few minutes complaining about the others, his voice returning to its usual irritable tone. It felt normal. It felt like you hadn't been gone for six months.
"How often did you come to visit?" you asked suddenly. "While I was asleep." Sanemi stiffened. He looked at the ceiling, his jaw tightening. "It doesn't matter. Why are you asking?"
"You're acting suspicious," you noted.
He let out a sharp huff of air. "I didn't want to disturb you, alright? You were out cold. I figured you didn't need me standing over your bed and shouting at you to wake up."
You looked at him, realizing that he had been coming here in the dark, just to be near you without you knowing. You felt a strange warmth in your chest.
"Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, though there was no heat in it.
They talked for a while longer, the conversation drifting between training and the state of the Corps. Eventually, Sanemi noticed your eyelids drooping. Your movements had become sluggish, and you were leaning heavily against your pillow.
"You're exhausted," he said. "Go to sleep." You nodded, feeling the weight of the day finally hitting you. You started to settle back down, but as Sanemi stood up to leave, you remembered something.
"Sanemi." He stopped at the doorway, his back to you. "What did you want to tell me? Before my mission."
Sanemi didn't move. He stood there for a long moment, his silhouette sharp against the dim light of the hallway. He remembered the promise he had made to himself before you left, and he remembered the guilt that had eaten at him while you were unconscious.
He sighed and turned around. He didn't leave. Instead, he walked back toward you and sat down, looking visibly uncomfortable.
"I owe you an apology," he said, his voice low. You stayed quiet, listening. "When I first met you... I treated you like garbage," he admitted. He wouldn't look at you. "I did it because you're Giyuu's sister. I didn't even know you. You hadn't done a single thing to me, but I took everything I hated about him and I shoved it onto you."
He paused, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. "You didn't deserve that. I regret it."
He finally looked directly at you, his eyes searching your face. "I'm sorry." He waited, almost expecting you to snap at him or tell him it was too late. But you just looked at him calmly.
"I already knew you were angry because of Giyuu," you said. "That doesn't make it right," Sanemi replied. "Knowing why I did it doesn't change the fact that I was a prick."
Another long silence fell over the room. It wasn't awkward this time; it was heavy with things finally being said. Sanemi shifted, looking away again. "There was something else," he said, his voice even quieter now. "The second thing I wanted to say."
"I want to get to know you more." You stared at him, completely surprised. You had expected the apology, but you hadn't expected this.
"I spent so much time seeing you as 'Tomioka's sister' that I never bothered to find out who you actually are," Sanemi explained. He sounded frustrated with himself. "I don't know what you like. I don't know what annoys you or what you think about when you're being quiet. I want to know who you are when you're not being compared to your brother."
You didn't know how to respond. No one had ever said something like that to you. You were always the sister, the shadow, the quiet one. Sanemi was the only person who seemed to care that you were a separate person.
You gave him a small, genuine smile. "You can start by asking me something." Sanemi looked at you for a second, his brow furrowing as he thought.
"What do you want to eat tomorrow?"
You let out a quiet laugh, the sound light and airy. "That was a terrible first question."
Sanemi rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Tch. Just go to sleep."
He stood up and helped you settle back under the covers, his movements surprisingly gentle. As he walked out of the room and slid the door shut, you watched him go. You felt the same as you always had—weak, tired, and far from recovered—but for the first time in six months, the future didn't feel so empty.
You sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mitsuri organize a tray of sweets. Shinobu stood by the window, checking a chart. The room felt lighter than it had in months, though your body still felt heavy and unresponsive.
"He actually apologized," you said.
The words were casual, almost an afterthought. Mitsuri froze, a piece of mochi halfway to a plate. She turned slowly, her eyes wide.
"Eeeehhh?! He said that?!"
Mitsuri practically vibrated, her voice jumping an octave. She dropped the sweet back onto the tray and leaned in close, her face flushed.
"You’re joking. Shinazugawa? The same Shinazugawa who looks like he wants to fight the air most of the time? He apologized to you?"
You blinked, confused by the intensity of her reaction.
"Yes. He said he treated me like garbage because of Giyuu. He said he regretted it."
Shinobu didn't move from the window, but a small, genuine smile touched her lips. She looked at you, her violet eyes thoughtful.
"That’s probably the most honest thing he's said since the day we met him," Shinobu remarked.
Mitsuri gripped your hands, her excitement overflowing.
"This is huge! This is a miracle! What happened after that? Did he say something romantic? Did he tell you how he’s felt all this time? Tell me everything!"
You looked at her, then back at the floor.
"He asked me what I wanted to eat tomorrow. Then he told me to go to sleep."
Mitsuri paused, her shoulders slumping slightly. Then, she burst into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.
"That is so like him! I was expecting something out of a novel, but he just wants to know your food preferences. That’s almost cuter."
You didn't quite understand why that was cute, but you didn't push the conversation. You just leaned back against your pillows and thought about the way Sanemi had looked when he said he wanted to know who you were.
The evening arrived with a slow crawl of shadows across the floor. You were still struggling to shift your weight, the pillows beneath you feeling like boulders. The door slid open without a knock.
Sanemi stepped inside. He wasn't shouting or scowling. He carried a small bowl of simmered vegetables and a cup of water.
"You still look like a mess," he said.
He didn't wait for a response. He walked over and set the food on the side table. Seeing you slumped awkwardly, he reached out and gripped the edges of your pillows, hoisting them up to support your back. His hands were calloused and rough, but he didn't push too hard.
The silence between you wasn't the heavy, suffocating kind from before. It was just quiet.
"I want to say something," you whispered.
Sanemi paused, his hand still resting on the fabric of the pillow. He looked at you.
You looked down at your hands. They were pale, the skin thin.
"About last night. You said you wanted to get to know me more."
"The thing is," you started, your voice trailing off. "I don't really know myself either."
Sanemi didn't move. He didn't laugh or tell you that you were being dramatic. He just watched you.
"When people ask what I like, or what makes me happy... I don't have an answer," you admitted. Your whole life has been about being a Demon Slayer. About being Giyuu's sister. About doing what was expected of you. You never stopped to think about what you actually want.
You expected him to find it strange. You expected him to tell you to just figure it out. Instead, Sanemi sat down on the floor beside your bed. He leaned his back against the wall, staring straight ahead.
"There's no reason you should know everything already," he said. "Most people don't. They just pretend they do."
You looked at him, surprised.
"We can figure it out together," he added. "One question at a time."
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Okay."
Sanemi shifted, looking at you with a challenge in his eyes.
You frowned. You searched your mind, thinking of the colors of the uniforms, the blood on the grass, the blue of Giyuu's haori. None of those felt right.
"I don't know... maybe pink?"
Sanemi stared at you for a long beat.
"You took way too long to answer a question a five-year-old could handle."
"Nobody ever asked me before," you replied simply.
He huffed, but he didn't sound annoyed. "Fine. Favorite food."
You thought again. "I like ohagi."
Sanemi stiffened. He looked at you with a mixture of suspicion and sudden interest.
He spent the next hour grilling you. He asked about the weather, whether you preferred mornings or nights, what kind of flowers you liked, and what you would do if you didn't have to fight demons.
Some answers came easily. Others left you staring at the wooden floor in silence. When you couldn't answer, Sanemi didn't rush you. He didn't make you feel small for not knowing.
"I like the cold," he volunteered when you struggled with the weather question. "Keeps the head clear. Now you try."
"I think I like the rain," you whispered. "It's quiet."
Sanemi made a face. "Depressing. But alright."
As the conversation flowed, it became lighter. You found yourself smiling at the way he pretended to judge your choices, even though he listened to every single word. Eventually, you decided it was his turn.
"Your turn," you said. "What's your favorite color?"
Sanemi looked away, crossing his arms.
"This was supposed to be about you."
"You said we were getting to know each other."
He glared at you, but there was no heat in it.
"Green," he muttered. "Happy now?"
You asked him about his favorite food, his habits, and the things that made him angry. He answered some, grumbling the whole time, but he didn't stop. He didn't leave.
The questions gradually became quieter, the tone shifting as the room grew darker.
"What don't you like?" Sanemi asked.
"Loud noises," you answered. "People who lie. Bitter tea."
You trailed off, your gaze falling to your lap.
"Something else?" he asked.
You hesitated. The memory of the dark, the feeling of falling, and the screams of people long gone flickered in your mind.
"I don't like sleeping," you said softly.
Sanemi paused. He didn't push, but he didn't look away. "Why?"
The silence returned, but it was gentle.
"Nightmares?" he repeated.
You nodded. "Often. Sometimes it's the past. Sometimes it's people I've lost. I just... I don't like being in my own head when I'm asleep."
Sanemi didn't offer a platitude. He didn't tell you that it would get better or that you were safe now. He just stayed there, his shoulder inches from the side of your bed.
"You don't have to explain them if you don't want to," he said.
He shifted, looking at the ceiling.
"If you wake up from one while I'm around... wake me up. Instead of sitting there by yourself."
You looked at him, genuinely surprised. "Do you actually sleep?"
Sanemi shot you an annoyed look, his brow furrowing. "I sleep enough, you brat."
You smiled. It was a small, quiet thing, but it felt real.You both fell silent, sitting together in the dim light. For the first time in your life, you realized you had answered more questions about yourself in one night than you had in years. You didn't have all the answers yet, but as you looked at Sanemi, you realized you didn't mind the uncertainty as much anymore.
Your foot is too far back.
Sanemi’s voice cuts through your focus as he steps forward, his hand gripping your ankle to shove it a few inches to the left. You stumble, barely keeping your balance. You don't look at him, instead staring straight ahead at the training dummy.
"I can handle the stance," you say.
"You can barely handle standing still without shaking," he retorts. "Do it again."
You exhale and swing the sword. Your muscles burn, a dull reminder of the months spent motionless in a bed. The strength hasn't fully returned, and your movements lack the sharpness they once had. Every swing feels like you're fighting against your own skin.
You stop and lower the blade, glancing at him.
Sanemi crosses his arms, his expression hard. "You're tired of resting. There's a difference."
"I'm tired of acting like a patient," you reply calmly. "I can walk. I can swing a sword. I should be on a mission."
"Walking doesn't mean you're recovered."
"You're losing your mind if you think I'm letting you go out there while you're still wobbling like a newborn calf."
You narrow your eyes. "You're being unnecessarily harsh today."
Sanemi huffs, a sharp sound of irritation. "And you're being a brat. Again. Back to the start. Now."
You don't argue further, though you want to. You simply reset your feet and swing again. You remember the feeling of the sword being too heavy to lift, the way your fingers used to twitch without moving your arm. That memory pushes you, making you swing harder than you probably should.
Sanemi watches you, his gaze lingering on the way your breathing hitches. He doesn't tell you to slow down this time. He just stays there, a constant, abrasive presence that somehow makes you feel more grounded than Giyuu’s quiet worry ever does.
You wake up with your heart hammering against your ribs. The dream is gone, but the feeling of falling remains, clinging to your skin like cold sweat. You don't move for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the panic to subside.
You slide out of bed and make your way to the kitchen for water. Your legs feel steady tonight, though a lingering fatigue settles in your joints. As you drink, you glance toward the open sliding door.
A figure is sitting on the porch.
You set the cup down and walk toward the engawa. Sanemi is there, leaning back on his hands, staring out into the dark.
"What are you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eyes.
He doesn't look at you at first. "My brother is here."
"I'm not going to wake him up just to tell him I'm visiting," he says.
You lean against the doorframe, watching the profile of his face. He looks tired. "Nightmares?" he asks.
He doesn't offer a sympathetic look or a soft word. He just shifts his weight and signals for you to sit beside him on the wooden slats. You obey, sliding down to sit next to him. The air is cool, and the silence between you is comfortable, stripped of the tension that usually defines your interactions.
"My crow said there's a possibility I'll receive a mission tomorrow," you tell him.
Sanemi finally turns to look at you. His eyes are searching, gauging your stability. "Maybe I should go with you."
"You're too slow," he says, though there's no heat in the insult. "You'll get yourself killed before you even find the demon."
"I can't just say 'come back safe,'" Sanemi says, his voice dropping an octave. "The last time I told you that, you fell into a six-month sleep."
The mention of it makes you go still. You remember the silence of those six months—the way the world continued while you were trapped in a void, unaware of the people fighting to bring you back. You think about Sanemi's face during those months, the way he likely hated your weakness and your absence all at once.
You turn to him, studying the jagged scars that map his skin.
"Okay," you say. "If I don't come home by morning... you follow me. How about that?"
Sanemi stares at you for a long beat. He looks like he wants to argue, to tell you that you're being reckless. But he knows you're just like Giyuu—stubborn to a fault and convinced of your own insignificance.
"Fine," he grunts. "Deal."
You lean back, looking up at the stars. You want to sleep, but the thought of the dreams makes you hesitate. You don't want to close your eyes and go back to that place. You stay awake instead, watching the way the light hits Sanemi's face.
You find yourself focusing on his scars. You wonder about the stories behind each one, the pain that carved them into his flesh. He looks like a man who has been broken and put back together with sheer willpower.
"Shinazugawa..." you whisper.
He turns his head, meeting your eyes.
The space between you vanishes. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the sudden shift in the atmosphere that makes your breath catch. He doesn't move away. Instead, he slowly leans in, his gaze dropping to your lips. You don't pull back. You find yourself leaning forward, drawn to the roughness and the hidden softness he only shows when no one else is watching.
His breath brushes against your skin, and for a second, the world feels small, narrowed down to just the two of you on a wooden porch.
Giyuu's voice calls out from inside the house, loud and concerned.
The spell breaks. Sanemi flinches, snapping his head back. He doesn't have time to move away completely before the sound of footsteps approaches.
In a sudden, quick motion, Sanemi leans forward and presses a firm kiss to your forehead. It's brief, almost desperate, but it lingers long enough to leave your skin tingling.
Before Giyuu can slide the door open, Sanemi is already on his feet. He leaps off the engawa and vanishes into the shadows of the garden, moving with the silent speed of a predator.
You blink, touching your forehead with your fingertips.
"Who were you talking to?" Giyuu asks as he enters the room, his expression blank but his eyes searching.
You look at the empty space where Sanemi was sitting.
The sun hadn't even broken the horizon when the crow started screaming. You sat up in bed, the cool morning air hitting your skin, but your mind was already on the mission.
Giyuu stood by the door, his expression as blank as always, but his shoulders were tight. He didn't say much, but he didn't have to. You could tell he didn't want you going. He still remembered the six months you spent in a coma, and the thought of you being out of his sight made him restless.
"I can handle it," you said, tying your sandals.
"I know you can," Giyuu replied. "Just be careful."
"That's what worries me. You're too quiet about when you're hurting."
You didn't answer. You just grabbed your sword and walked past him. You were just like him—stubborn and convinced that silence was the best way to handle everything.
The village was crowded. It was strange. Everywhere you looked, there were couples. They held hands, leaned into each other, and whispered things that made them giggle. It felt suffocating. You hated crowds, and you hated the way these people looked at each other. It felt too intimate for a public street.
You looked up at your crow.
"Where was the last couple seen?" you asked.
"The Red Maple Inn! The Red Maple Inn!" the crow shrieked, circling your head.
You made your way to the hotel. It was a traditional building, well-kept and smelling of expensive incense. When you stepped inside, the woman at the front desk looked you up and down. She didn't look welcoming.
"We are fully booked for singles," the lady said, her voice thin and sharp. "This hotel is for couples only. It's our policy."
You frowned. You needed a place to stay so you could track the demon's movements at night. You couldn't exactly tell her you were a demon slayer hunting a man-eating monster.
"I have a boyfriend," you lied. The words felt clunky in your mouth. "He arrives later."
The lady narrowed her eyes. She didn't look convinced. You stood there, expressionless, mimicking Giyuu's stillness. Finally, she sighed and slid a key across the counter.
"Fine. But if no man comes to your room by the morning, you'll be leaving immediately. I don't tolerate liars in my establishment."
You took the key and started walking down the long, wooden hallway. The hotel was full of people. As you passed the rooms, you heard the sounds of intimacy. Muffled laughter, the creak of floorboards, and then, a distinct moan that sounded more like pain than pleasure.
Suddenly, a scream ripped through the air.
You didn't hesitate. You bolted toward the sound, sliding the door of the nearest room open. A woman was there, running toward you. She was drenched in sweat, her clothes clinging to her body. Her eyes were wide with terror. As she reached you, she grabbed your wrist, her grip tight and desperate.
"Please! Help me!" she sobbed.
You felt the moisture of her palm against your skin. It was unnaturally hot. You quickly withdrew your arm and drew your sword in one fluid motion.
"Stay back," you commanded.
"My husband! The demon killed my husband!" she wailed, pointing behind her.
You glanced back. A demon woman stood in the center of the room, her tongue licking her lips. She looked manic, her eyes glowing with a hungry light.
"Run away. Now," you told the woman.
The victim didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled out of the room and disappeared down the hall. You turned your attention to the demon. She laughed, a grating sound that set your teeth on edge.
"You're already checkmate, little slayer," the demon sneered.
You didn't waste time talking. You lunged forward, your blade whistling through the air. You slashed her arm clean off. The demon hissed, but before she could regenerate, you jumped, twisting your body in mid-air. Your blade sliced through her neck with a sharp snap.
The head hit the floor and the body began to crumble into ash. You looked around the room. There was no body. No blood. Just a few shredded pieces of clothing. The demon had eaten the husband completely.
You sighed and walked back to your room. You just wanted to sleep. But as soon as you closed the door and locked it, a strange sensation hit you.
It started as a dull warmth in your stomach. Within minutes, it spread to your chest and thighs. You felt a sudden, oppressive heat radiating from inside your own bones.
"What is this?" you whispered.
You took off your haori, letting it fall to the floor. The air in the room was cool, but you were burning. You started to sweat, the droplets rolling down your neck and soaking into your uniform.
Then it clicked. The woman. The victim. She had been sweating too. She had touched your wrist.
Your breath hitched. Your heart started hammering against your ribs, not from fear, but from a sudden, violent surge of desire. It wasn't a normal feeling. It was an aggressive, demanding heat that made your skin feel too tight.
You looked toward the window. The sun was almost peaking over the horizon. You told yourself it would be gone soon. You just had to wait.
But the heat intensified. It felt like liquid fire flowing through your veins, pooling in your lower belly. Your thighs started to shake. You couldn't stand straight anymore. You collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, your chest heaving.
Your voice sounded foreign to you, breathy and strained. You tried to think of Giyuu, tried to think of training, tried to think of anything to distract you. But every thought led back to the heat. Your hand moved on its own, drifting upward.
You tried to stop yourself, but the urge was overwhelming. Your fingers brushed against your breast, and you let out a loud, involuntary moan that echoed in the small room. The sensation was electric. Just a light touch felt like a bolt of lightning hitting your nerves.
You groaned, your hips arching off the bed. You couldn't take it. You reached down, unbuttoning your uniform with trembling fingers. You pushed the fabric aside, exposing your skin. When you touched your own thigh, you almost jumped; your skin felt scorched.
You slid your hand lower, finding the dampness between your legs. You were soaking. The Blood Demon Art had turned your own body against you, amplifying every nerve ending until the mere friction of your underwear felt like torture.
You pushed your panties aside and slid two fingers inside yourself.
You gasped, your head snapping back. You were so wet that your fingers made a loud, squelching sound as they slid in and out. Shlick. Squelch. The sound was vulgar, filling the quiet room, but it only made you crave more. You began to move faster, your breathing coming in ragged, shallow pants.
You used your other hand to pinch your nipple, twisting it hard. The pain mixed with the pleasure, sending waves of heat crashing over you. You were shaking violently now, your legs curling up. You imagined someone else's touch—someone rough, someone strong. You thought of Sanemi. You thought of his scarred hands and the way he looked at you with that mixture of irritation and hidden longing.
The thought pushed you over the edge. You shoved your fingers deeper, and let out a strangled cry. Your internal muscles clamped down hard on your fingers, pulsing in rhythmic waves. You came with a violent shudder, your body stiffening as a loud, long moan escaped your lips.
You lay there for a long time, panting heavily, your eyes closed. You were drenched in sweat, your chest heaving.
"Please... be gone," you whispered.
But the heat didn't leave. It simmered just below the surface, leaving you sensitive and raw.
A sharp knock at the door made you jump.
You scrambled to put your clothes back on, fumbling with the buttons of your uniform. You didn't have time to fix your hair or wipe the sweat from your forehead before you opened the door.
The hotel lady was standing there, looking smug.
"I thought you were lying," she said, glancing behind her.
Sanemi was standing there.
He looked annoyed, his arms crossed over his chest. His uniform was partially unbuttoned, revealing the jagged scars on his chest. The sight of his bare skin made your thighs shake instantly. The heat flared up again, more intense than before. You gripped the doorframe to keep yourself from collapsing.
"You can leave us now," Sanemi said, his voice rough.
The lady nodded and walked away. Sanemi stepped forward to enter the room, but you instinctively stepped back.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "Are you okay? You're fucking drenched in sweat."
"I'm okay!" you snapped, though your voice cracked.
"You're not," he said. He didn't listen to you. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming the small space. He reached out and touched your arm.
You gasped, leaning away from him. His skin felt like ice against your burning flesh, and the contrast was almost too much to bear.
"You're burning!" Sanemi exclaimed. "Do you have a fever? What the hell happened?"
"Don't come closer..." you whispered.
Sanemi frowned, his expression shifting from irritation to genuine confusion.
"Tell me what's wrong, damn it!"
"I-it's a blood demon art..."
Sanemi stopped. His hand was still on your arm. "What did the demon do?"
"Its blood demon art is... Aphrodisiac Mist," you managed to say, your voice trembling. "It transmits through touch... sweat... I touched the victim... and now..."
You stepped back again, your back hitting the wall. Your breathing was becoming heavy again. You could feel the wetness returning between your legs, a sticky heat that made you feel desperate. You looked at him, your eyes clouded with a need you couldn't control.
"C-can you... do something..."
Sanemi froze. He looked at your face, then down at your shaking legs. He knew exactly what you were asking. He had seen enough weird demons to understand the effects of an aphrodisiac BDA.
"Yn..." he started, his voice dropping. "I have my respect for you."
"I really need it," you whimpered.
Sanemi sighed, a long, guttural sound. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you. He took your arm again, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from your skin.
"I have my fucking respect for you... but you clearly need it," he grunted.
Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a collision. He tasted like mint and something sharp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth with an aggressive hunger. You moaned into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. You sucked on his tongue, exchanging saliva in a messy, desperate scramble for friction.
Sanemi groaned, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He pushed you back onto the bed, his heavy body pinning you down.
"You're so fucking hot," he muttered against your skin.
He didn't waste time. He ripped your uniform open, buttons flying across the room. He stared at your chest, your breasts heaving with every breath. He leaned down, his mouth capturing one nipple, sucking it hard. You arched your back, a loud cry escaping you as he used his teeth to nip at the sensitive peak.
"Sanemi... please," you begged.
He chuckled, a dark, low sound. He reached down and tore your panties away, tossing them aside. He didn't hesitate, his hand sliding between your thighs.
"You're soaking," he noted, his fingers diving into your wetness.
The sound was immediate—a loud, wet squelch as he pushed two fingers inside you. You screamed, your legs locking around his waist. He began to pump his fingers in and out, the friction creating a shlicking sound that filled the room.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice a rough growl.
"Come on," he whispered, his voice returning to its usual rough tone, though there was a trace of tenderness in it. "Tell me where it hurts..."
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