Synopsis: During a stormy night, (Y/n)’s peaceful flower shop becomes a refuge for Dabi, the infamous villain, who arrives injured and desperate. Despite her fear, she aids him, uncovering a fragile vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior.
The rain drummed incessantly against the windows of Flourish & Frond, a quaint flower shop tucked into a quiet corner of the loud city. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming roses and freshly watered soil. Shelves lined the walls, each bursting with vibrant colors—sunflowers, lilies, and delicate baby’s breath carefully arranged in vases and baskets.
(Y/n) worked quietly behind the counter, her hands deftly weaving together a bouquet of peonies and lavender. The steady rhythm of her movements was soothing, a distraction from the storm raging outside
Her life revolved around this little shop. It wasn’t just a job to her—it was her haven, the place where her Quirk found purpose. (Y/n)’s ability, “Verdant Touch,” allowed her to heal and nurture plant life with a mere touch. Wilting petals could bloom anew under her fingers, and dying roots could flourish again. It was a small, gentle Quirk, one she had always cherished despite its limitations.
Growing up, (Y/n) had dreamed of being a hero, like so many others her age. But as the years went on, she realized that her Quirk wasn’t suited for battle or saving lives in the traditional sense. Instead, she found solace in using her gift to bring beauty into the world.
Running the flower shop gave her a sense of peace and purpose. Her customers often left with smiles, their hands full of her lovingly crafted bouquets. It was a simple life, but it was hers—a small sanctuary in a city that often felt chaotic and overwhelming.
The bell above the door jingled softly, signaling a customer had entered the shop. (Y/n) glanced up with a practiced smile, “Sorry, we’re clo—” she began, but her words froze as her eyes landed on the figure who had just entered.
He was tall, his black coat soaked from the rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. Smoke curled faintly from the edges of his figure, and his turquoise eyes glowed like eerie embers against the dim light. Patchwork scars stitched across his pale face and neck, a grotesque yet strangely compelling sight. He was unmistakable.
Dabi.
The infamous villain stood in her shop, a figure who had graced countless wanted posters and news broadcasts. Her blood ran cold as her mind scrambled to process the situation. What was he doing here? Why her shop?
Dabi’s grip on the door handle was tight, his knuckles pale against the dark metal. His broad shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, and his body sagged slightly as he leaned into the shop’s frame for support. The faint sound of dripping caught (Y/n)’s attention, her gaze lowering to the floor. A small, dark puddle began to form at his feet, blood mingling with the rainwater dripping from his coat.
“Lock the door,” he rasped, his voice low and uneven, as though each word cost him effort.
(Y/n) didn’t move. Her practiced smile had vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed stare as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This couldn’t be real. Villains didn’t just walk into flower shops—certainly not him.
“I said, lock the damn door,” Dabi repeated, more forceful this time. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, the fiery glow of his turquoise gaze sharp and unwavering.
(Y/n) jolted at his harsh tone, her heart hammering in her chest. Without thinking, she moved quickly, her hands trembling as she brushed past him to lock the door. The small bell jingled softly with her movement, and the click of the lock sounded far louder than it should have.
Her fingers fumbled as she turned the shop's "Open" sign to "Closed" and tugged the blinds down over the front windows, her movements hurried but cautious. The thought of being so close to him sent shivers up her spine, and every fiber of her being screamed for her to run.
When she finished, she turned back to him, her wide eyes locking onto his form. She kept her distance, retreating step by careful step until she stood several feet away. “What do you want?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the infamous villain bleeding on her shop floor.
The sound of rain continued to hammer against the windows, a dull, persistent reminder of the world outside as the tension in the room thickened. Dabi stood at the threshold of the shop, his form towering but clearly weakened. His breath was ragged, each exhale laced with pain. The blood staining his side was an unmistakable sign of how badly he was hurt, and as he took a half-step toward her, he stumbled. A pained hiss escaped his lips as he gripped the counter to steady himself, his legs shaking.
(Y/n) froze. She wanted to move, to do something, but her mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. Villains weren’t supposed to look like this. They weren’t supposed to be hurting. But here he was, and the reality of the situation hit her harder than any force. Dabi, the notorious villain, was standing in front of her—injured, bleeding, and desperately in need of help.
His turquoise eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, locked onto hers. “I need help,” he rasped, his voice rough, dripping with frustration and pain. “Now.”
(Y/n) blinked, her throat tight. Was he serious? Was he really asking her, of all people, to help him? Her mind raced, fear still holding her body captive. But then, as he staggered another step, she saw it—the strain in his movements, the way he winced with every breath, the weight of the pain that clearly had him on the edge.
"You... you’re asking me?" Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear coloring her words. "You’re Dabi. Why would you—"
“Don’t make me say it again,” Dabi cut her off, his tone sharper than before, but beneath it, there was something far more vulnerable—almost pleading. He took another shaky step forward, his body trembling with the effort, before he gritted his teeth and collapsed against the counter, the sound of his knees hitting the floor muffled by the quiet of the shop. “I’m not asking you for sympathy. I’m asking you for help. Now.”
The sight of him, vulnerable and grimacing in pain, broke something in (Y/n). Her instincts, still torn by the need to protect herself, warred against the natural compassion she felt. He was a villain, yes—dangerous, feared, and reviled by many. But there was something in the way he looked at her now, something raw and desperate, that shifted her perception.
Her hands were shaking as she slowly took a step toward him. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice a whisper, soft but filled with concern.
Dabi leaned heavily on the counter, his body bent forward slightly as he let out a pained exhale. “Heroes.” He spat the word out like venom, but his face twisted in something far more human—exhaustion, frustration, and an edge of vulnerability he rarely showed. “One of them got lucky. Blade Quirk. Got me in the side.”
(Y/n) felt a tremor run through her as she absorbed his words. The sight of his blood dripping steadily onto the floor was enough to jolt her into action, her fear momentarily eclipsed by her instincts. Whatever else he was, he was injured—and badly. The humanity of the situation broke through the haze of her panic.
“You need to lie down,” she said, her voice steadier now, though still tinged with apprehension. She gestured toward the small seating area in the corner of the shop, where a cushioned bench was tucked against the wall.
Dabi gave her a sharp look, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Lie down? You think I’ve got time for that?”
(Y/n) stiffened, the edge of his tone making her nerves spike again. But she forced herself to hold her ground, squaring her shoulders even as her heart raced. “If you don’t, you’ll bleed out,” she replied, her tone firm despite the quiver in her hands. “And you didn’t come here just to die on my floor.”
Dabi’s glare faltered for a moment, his expression hard to read as he studied her. Then, with a low growl of frustration, he pushed himself away from the counter. His legs wobbled under his weight, and he barely managed a few steps before his knees threatened to buckle again.
“Damn it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his hand clutching his side.
Without thinking, (Y/n) darted forward to steady him, her hands gripping his arm and shoulder. His skin was warm—too warm, like he was radiating heat from an internal fire. She ignored the way her breath caught in her throat at the contact and focused on guiding him toward the bench.
“Careful,” she murmured, her tone softer now, coaxing him like she might soothe a skittish animal.
Dabi didn’t reply, his jaw clenched tight as he leaned on her for support. By the time they reached the bench, his breathing was shallow and labored, his face pale despite the angry scars marring his skin. He collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy exhale, his body slumping forward slightly as he rested his forearms on his knees.
(Y/n) hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The first-aid kit sat on the counter, and she moved quickly to grab it, her mind racing. Her hands worked on autopilot, gathering supplies and preparing for what she needed to do.
When she returned, she knelt in front of him, her eyes flickering to his face before focusing on the wound. “Let me see,” she said softly, reaching for his coat.
Dabi didn’t move at first, his turquoise gaze heavy on her. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he leaned back slightly, allowing her to peel the sodden fabric away from his side.
The sight of the wound made her stomach twist. A deep gash cut across his torso, the edges of the injury raw and angry. Blood soaked his shirt and streaked his pale skin, dripping steadily onto the bench and pooling on the floor.
(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. “This is bad,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it against the wound, applying firm pressure to staunch the bleeding.
Dabi hissed, his body tensing under her touch. “You don’t say,” he bit out, his tone sharp with pain.
(Y/n) glanced up at him, her expression softening despite herself. “I need you to stay still,” she said gently. “This is going to hurt.”
Dabi let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “Hurts already,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched her work.
Y/n) worked methodically, her hands steady despite the tension in the air. The sound of the rain against the windows seemed louder in the thick silence that had settled between them, broken only by Dabi’s occasional grunts of pain and the soft rustling of her movements.
She dipped a cloth in antiseptic and pressed it against the edges of the wound, cleaning away the blood and grime. Her touch was firm but careful, her eyes focused entirely on the task in front of her. The sharp, acrid scent of the antiseptic mingled with the floral aroma of the shop, creating a strange contrast.
Dabi’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly as she worked. “Couldn’t pick a quieter day for this?” he muttered, his voice strained but holding a faint edge of sarcasm.
(Y/n) glanced up briefly, meeting his glowing eyes. “You’re the one who walked into my shop,” she replied, her voice soft but pointed. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it here.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his scarred features, though it quickly dissolved as another wave of pain pulled a hiss from his lips. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back slightly to give her more room to work. His gaze lingered on her, watching the way her brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not half bad at this,” he added, his tone lighter, though the tension in his body betrayed his discomfort.
(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately, her focus remaining on the gash across his side. She grabbed a fresh bandage and began to wrap it carefully around his torso, the fabric stretching taut over his lean, scarred frame. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined spending my evening,” she murmured eventually, tying the bandage securely in place. “But I guess I’ve always been good with my hands.”
Dabi smirked faintly at her comment, though it quickly faltered as he shifted and a fresh wave of pain rippled through him. He let out a low groan, his hand instinctively moving to his side.
“Don’t touch it,” (Y/n) said firmly, her hand gently pushing his away. Her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, and she felt the heat radiating off his skin. It wasn’t just the feverish warmth of an injured man—it was something deeper, more dangerous, like a fire simmering just beneath the surface.
“You’re lucky,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “The cut missed anything vital. But you need stitches, and I don’t exactly have a surgical kit lying around.”
Dabi’s gaze flicked to hers, the intensity of his stare making her pause. “It's fine,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
(Y/n) hesitated, her hands stilling for a moment. “You can’t just—”
“I’ve been through worse,” he interrupted, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to… improvise.”
(Y/n) frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on securing the bandages as tightly as she could without causing him more pain. “There,” she murmured after a moment, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. “It’s not perfect, but it should hold.”
Dabi leaned back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as he closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful, despite the tension still evident in his body. “Not bad,” he muttered, the faintest hint of approval in his voice.
(Y/n) stood slowly, her knees stiff from kneeling for so long. Her eyes flickered to the trail of blood smeared across the floor, leading from the door to where Dabi now sat. She sighed quietly, shaking her head as she stepped toward the counter, grabbing a fresh cloth and a bucket she kept tucked away for spills.
“Stay put,” she said over her shoulder, her voice steady but firm. “I’ll clean this up.”
Dabi didn’t respond immediately, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed once again. His breathing was still labored, but it had evened out slightly, no longer the ragged gasps she’d heard when he first arrived. The sight of him like this—quiet, vulnerable—was a jarring contrast to the infamous image of the villain she’d seen in headlines and various posters.
The crimson streaks were stubborn, but (Y/n)’s hands were practiced and efficient. She focused on the task, using it as a way to steady her nerves and distract herself from the surreal situation.
When she finished, she rinsed the cloth in the bucket, the water staining red as the blood washed away. She stood and glanced at Dabi, who hadn’t moved, his head still tilted back against the wall. His eyes were closed, but she could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hands where they rested against his thighs.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, her voice breaking the quiet.
His eyes opened slowly, the glowing turquoise irises locking onto her with a sharpness that made her heart skip. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that unreadable expression. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
(Y/n) turned toward the back of the shop, her steps quiet on the wooden floor. The kitchenette she’d installed for long days at work was modest—a kettle, a small fridge, and a few cabinets stocked with tea and instant coffee. She filled the kettle with water, her movements deliberate as she tried to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.
What was she doing? She was helping Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the country. The logical part of her screamed at the absurdity of the situation, begged her to find a way out. But another part—a quieter, stubborn part—refused to turn him away, refused to let someone bleed out on her floor, no matter who they were.
The kettle whistled softly, pulling her from her thoughts. She poured the hot water into a mug, adding a bag of chamomile tea. It wasn’t much, but it was soothing—something she imagined he could use, though she wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate the gesture.
When she returned, Dabi’s eyes tracked her every move, his gaze heavy and calculating. She set the mug down on the small table beside him, careful to keep her movements slow and unthreatening.
“It’s tea,” she said simply, stepping back to give him space. “Chamomile. It’ll help you relax.”
Dabi’s gaze shifted to the mug, his scarred fingers reaching for it after a moment of hesitation. He lifted it to his lips, taking a small sip. The heat seemed to surprise him, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he lowered the mug.
“Didn’t peg you for the tea type of girl,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before, though the faint edge of sarcasm remained.
(Y/n) crossed her arms, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “And I didn’t peg you for the ‘stumble into a flower shop, almost bleeding out’ type of guy,” she replied evenly.
His smirk widened slightly, though it was fleeting. “Touché.”
The room fell into a tentative silence, the rain outside still tapping against the windows. (Y/n) found her gaze drifting back to him, her mind swimming with unasked questions. Why had he come here, of all places? Was it random, or had he chosen her shop for a reason? And what would happen when he left?
Dabi set the mug down on the table, his movements deliberate but slow, as if every action cost him effort. “You didn’t have to help me,” he said suddenly, his voice low but clear. His eyes flicked to hers, their intensity catching her off guard. “You could’ve turned me away. Called someone.”
(Y/n) met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said softly, her voice steady.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to decipher her intentions. “Why?” he asked, the question sharp and direct.
She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly against the counter’s edge. “Because,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “I couldn’t just let you like that. No matter who you are.”
Dabi leaned back against the wall, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied her. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then, he let out a low, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head slightly.
“You’re a strange one, flower girl,” he muttered, his voice carrying a faint hint of admiration despite the weariness in his tone.
(Y/n) let out a soft sigh, her gaze briefly shifting to the window where the rain continued to fall in sheets. The storm outside had only grown worse since Dabi’s arrival, the wind howling against the glass, rattling the panes with an intensity that mirrored the tension still thick in the air between them.
"You can stay the night—just for tonight, though,” she added quickly, almost as if to remind herself. “You need to rest, and the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. I’m not going to throw you back out into that.”
Dabi’s gaze softened, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features. He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if there was some ulterior motive to her offer. "You’re... letting me stay here? Even though you know who I am?"
Her eyes flickered away from him briefly “You’re hurt. And despite everything—what you’ve done, what you stand for—no one deserves to die alone in the rain. Not like this.”
There was a long pause as Dabi processed her words. His gaze softened ever so slightly, though it was still filled with a certain wariness, a suspicion that he didn’t fully trust her kindness.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall with a slight thud. “You’re making a mistake,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know me.”
“I don’t need to,” (Y/n) replied gently, moving to adjust the blankets on the small bench in the corner. “I know you’re hurt. And right now, that’s all that matters.” She turned back to him then, her eyes meeting his with a quiet resolve. “But you’ll have to leave tomorrow. I can’t keep you here any longer than that.”
Dabi’s lips twitched, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what if I don’t? What if I decide to stick around longer?” His tone was light, teasing almost, but (Y/n) could see the weariness behind it.
“You won’t,” she said simply, her gaze steady as she met his challenge.
Dabi let out a soft chuckle, but it was devoid of the usual venom he carried with him. There was something almost defeated in it. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the bandages she’d wrapped around his side still tight, though he winced slightly as he adjusted his position. “You really do have a thing for doing the opposite of what people expect.”
She didn’t respond right away, just moved to place a pillow behind him to support his back as he slouched against the wall, then straightened up to her full height. Her hands lingered on the edge of the bench for a moment, and she gave him a final, pointed look. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll deal with whatever happens after that.”
Dabi didn’t argue. His eyes closed slowly, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped even further. For a moment, he almost seemed like just a man—a man in pain, who needed rest.
Days turned into weeks, and after that fateful night, Dabi never truly left her thoughts. He kept his word about leaving the morning after the storm passed, but that didn’t mark the end of his presence in her life. Every evening, as the sun began to set and the city buzzed with its evening rush, the doorbell of Flourish & Frond would chime, signaling Dabi’s arrival. He’d walk through the door at precisely the same time every evening, just as (Y/n) was preparing to close up for the day.
At first, the sight of him always made her heart skip a beat—fear mixed with disbelief that he was there, in her shop, again. His visits felt like a shadow hanging over her, his reputation enough to make her worry about being discovered. But despite the lingering fear, she couldn’t deny the subtle shift in their interactions.
Dabi was different. He wasn’t the cold, menacing figure she’d seen on wanted posters. The man who entered her shop now seemed… more human. He no longer dragged himself in, barely able to keep his balance, but instead appeared more composed, more normal like. Still, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the worry every time he came through that door. What if someone saw him? What if he attracted too much attention?
But as the weeks passed, Dabi grew more comfortable in her space, and the tension between them shifted. He no longer just came for brief visits; he’d linger, sitting on the cushioned bench in the corner as she finished closing up the shop. He would ask her about her day, joke about the ridiculous things she had to deal with—customers who insisted on buying flowers for their "exes" or the old woman who tried to convince her that lavender was the cure for all ailments. It was these little moments that made (Y/n) start to see him differently. There was something disarming about his sarcastic humor, his dry wit that reminded her that he, too, once had a life outside of the villainous reputation that followed him.
It was on one of these late evenings, when the shop was quiet and the rain tapped softly against the windows, that Dabi showed up again, his coat dripping with the remnants of the storm outside. He pushed open the door with his usual nonchalance, shaking off the rain before stepping inside. The bell jingled lightly above his head as (Y/n) glanced up from wiping down the counter, her heart giving its usual nervous thud.
“Back again?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, her tone playful but laced with that same apprehension that always came with his arrival.
Dabi grinned, though it was more tired than usual. “What can I say? I’m addicted to your… healing skills. The tea helps too, I guess.”
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Healing skills, huh? I’m not sure I’d call it healing.”
“Oh, trust me,” Dabi shot back, “if you saw the state I was in before you worked your magic, you’d call it a damn miracle.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable. He had started teasing her more in the past few weeks, and it always made her feel strangely at ease, despite the fact that she knew she was still walking a fine line with him. He was a villain, after all.
The silence between them settled comfortably, the sound of the rain masking any further tension as she finished tidying up. Dabi settled into his usual spot on the bench, his gaze following her as she moved around the shop.
“You really don’t have to stick around here every night, you know,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter now, as she grabbed a cloth to clean up a vase that had tipped over earlier in the day.
Dabi’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk softening. “You say that like you don’t like the company. What’s the matter? Scared someone might see me here?”
“I’m always scared someone might see you here.” She shot him a pointed look, and Dabi chuckled darkly.
“I’m not that obvious, am I?” he teased, his gaze flicking toward the street outside.
(Y/n) didn’t respond right away, her fingers gripping the cloth a little tighter. She wasn’t sure what exactly had happened over the past weeks, but there was no denying that a strange bond had formed between them—one that she wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate. On one hand, there was her growing concern for his well-being, and on the other, the reminder that she was harboring an infamous villain in her shop.
But as much as her mind tried to warn her, something about Dabi felt different now. He’d stopped pushing her boundaries, and his visits, while still making her heart race with fear, had become… almost comforting. His teasing remarks, the subtle way he checked in on her—asking if she’d eaten, if she was getting enough sleep, making sure she was staying safe—had grown from a casual interest to something more genuine. There were moments, too, when the walls around him dropped, and she could see the weariness in his eyes—the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than just physical pain. And in those moments, she would offer him a quiet cup of tea, and he would accept it without comment, just a fleeting look of gratitude before he retreated behind that familiar, sarcastic demeanor
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first droplets started falling, Dabi walked in, his usual grin missing from his lips. (Y/n) caught his eye and couldn’t help herself.
“You’re late tonight,” she teased, her smile playful. But the words faltered when she noticed him.
Dabi stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hair, darker than the storm itself. His usual teasing grin was absent, replaced by a weariness that weighed heavy on his sharp features. His turquoise eyes—normally alight with mischief—were dim, shadows pooling in their depths.
“I…” His voice was rough, almost hoarse, as he stepped inside and shut the door. For a moment, he seemed unsteady, catching himself on the doorframe before making his way to his usual bench. “I just felt like… I needed to be here.”
(Y/n) blinked, her hands stilling over the vase she was cleaning. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.
He sank onto the bench with a tired sigh, leaning back as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His gaze found hers, and for once, there was no sarcasm, no barriers—just an unguarded vulnerability that made her chest tighten.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, abandoning the vase and stepping closer.
Dabi ran a hand through his damp hair, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “Define ‘okay,’ sunshine.”
The nickname was there, but the usual smirk wasn’t, and that made it all the more disarming.
She hesitated before pulling up a stool to sit across from him, her hands clasped in her lap. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he spoke, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.
Dabi didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, (Y/n) thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging even further, and he finally looked up at her.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said, his voice low but steady, carrying an edge of frustration.
(Y/n) blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he ran a hand down his face. “You’re an idiot for letting me come here whenever I feel like it. For not throwing me out the first time I walked through that door. For not letting me bleed out”
Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn’t form a response before he continued, his voice growing sharper.
“You’re an idiot for enjoying my company, my jokes, for looking at me like I’m not a complete mess. Like I’m not some twisted, broken thing that you should stay as far away from as possible.”
He looks up at her intensely "You knew from the beginning who I was, and yet you foolishly helped me".
Her chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over her like a storm she hadn’t seen coming. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but before she could find the words, he let out a soft, bitter laugh—a sound so unguarded it made her heart ache.
“But you know what?” he murmured, his voice breaking the quiet like a confession he could no longer hold back. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and in them, she saw something raw—something so achingly human that it stole her breath. “I’m an even bigger idiot. Because I can’t stop thinking about you., even for a second”
The words hung between them, heavy and vulnerable. Her heart raced, each beat echoing louder in her chest as she stared at him, unable to look away.
“I don’t know when it started,” he continued, his voice soft and almost hesitant, as if saying it aloud made him feel exposed. “Maybe it was that first night, the way you looked at me—like I was someone deserving your help. Like I was… more than these scars.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze faltering as his hands clenched into fists. “Even when I said something sharp or stupid. You didn’t flinch, didn’t look at me like I was a monster, you just… saw through it. Through me.”
His voice wavered, the words growing quieter, heavier. “And now, I can’t stop coming back. Even when I know I shouldn't. Even when I know it’s selfish, that I’m selfish. Because being here—with you—it’s the only place where it doesn’t feel like the world is closing in on me. Like I can actually breathe for a little while.”
Her breath hitched, and she reached for him without thinking, her fingers brushing his arm in a gentle gesture that seemed to anchor him. He closed his eyes at the contact, a barely audible sigh escaping him as his fists unclenched.
“I need this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you. More than I want to. More than I should.” His head dropped, his damp hair falling into his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze again. “And it terrifies me. Because if I lose this—if I lose you—”
Dabi’s words broke off, a tremor in his voice betraying the storm raging inside him. Before she could fully process what he had said, he moved. His hand shot out, firm but trembling, finding her waist and pulling her closer in a single, desperate motion.
The contact sent a jolt through her, her breath catching as she found herself pressed against him. His other arm wrapped around her back, holding her tightly, as if she might vanish if he let go. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Dabi…” she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of surprise and something deeper—something that mirrored the ache in his own heart.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his face buried against her shoulder. His breath was warm against her neck, and she could feel the faint tremor in his chest as he held her. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. For not being able to stay away. For needing you more than I should.”
Her hands hovered in the air for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally settling on his shoulders. She held him gently, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of his coat as she tried to steady her own racing heart.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling within her. “Not for this.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his turquoise eyes meeting hers, filled with a vulnerability she had never seen before. His grip on her waist loosened slightly, but his hands stayed there, as if to reassure himself that she was still within reach.
“I never thought…” she began, her voice faltering as she searched for the right words. “I never thought you felt this way. That you…”
“Felt like you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart?” he finished for her, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed against her side absentmindedly, a small, soothing motion that sent shivers down her spine. “Because you are, (Y/n). You’re the only one who sees me—not just the scars, not just the villain. Me. And I don’t know how to stop wanting that. How to stop wanting you.”
Her breath hitched at his words, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
“You don’t have to stop,” she whispered, her fingers curling slightly against his coat. “Because I feel it too. I thought I was the only one, but… I feel it too, Dabi.”
For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes searching hers as if trying to make sense of her words. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by something softer—something almost hopeful.
“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his hands tightening ever so slightly around her waist.
She smiled, a soft, nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I feel it too.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m too selfish to let you go.”
Her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs brushing against the rough skin of his cheeks. “Then don’t,” she said softly, her voice steady. “Don’t let me go.”
Dabi’s breath caught at her words, the sincerity in her voice unraveling something tightly wound inside him. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if committing every detail of her face to memory—the softness in her (e/c) eyes, the way her lips curved in a nervous but hopeful smile.
Slowly, he shifted, his hands still steady at her waist as he stood, drawing her up with him. He towered over her now, his presence overwhelming yet oddly comforting. The space between them was almost nonexistent, their breaths mingling as the world outside the shop faded into nothingness.
His gaze flickered to her lips, hesitating for just a second. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain.
Her heart swelled at the vulnerability in his tone, and she nodded, her hands still cradling his face. “I’m sure.”
That was all the reassurance he needed.
Dabi leaned in slowly, deliberately, his turquoise eyes locked on hers until the very last moment. When his lips met hers, it was gentle, almost cautious, as if he were afraid she might break beneath his touch.
The kiss was soft at first, a delicate brush of lips that sent a wave of warmth through her. But as her fingers tangled in his hair and she leaned into him, his hesitance melted away. The kiss deepened, his hands pulling her closer as if he couldn’t bear to let even an inch of space remain between them.
There was a desperation to the way he held her, a quiet intensity that spoke of how much he’d been holding back. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a promise, and a plea all at once.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths came in unsteady gasps, their foreheads resting together. Dabi’s hands lingered at her waist, his thumbs brushing against her sides as if reassuring himself that she was still there.
“See?” she whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “That wasn’t so selfish, was it?”
He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at her. “It’s selfish as hell,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “But I’m not sorry. Not even a little.”
She laughed too, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi felt a flicker of something he hadn’t dared to hope for—peace.
Synopsis: During the Racoon City incident (Y/n) teams up with rookie cop Leon Kennedy to escape the chaos and the undead. As the terror unfolds around them, their shared pain and fear draw them closer, each finding solace in the other's presence.
The police station was cloaked in an oppressive silence, the kind that seemed to seep into the very marrow of (Y/n)’s bones. Faint, guttural groans of the undead reverberated from somewhere deep within the labyrinth of darkened hallways, a chilling reminder of the horrors lurking just out of sight.
Her footsteps echoed softly against the tiled floor, each cautious shuffle amplified in the vast emptiness. Shadows stretched and twisted in the dim, flickering light, her trembling flashlight casting feeble beams that barely pierced the gloom. In her other hand, she gripped a heavy wrench, her knuckles white as she fought to steady her racing heart, each thudding beat a desperate plea for survival.
(Y/n) couldn’t stop thinking about how drastically her world had unraveled in just a few harrowing days. The tedious hum of her old life—answering incessant phone calls, meticulously filing paperwork, and painstakingly organizing schedules—now seemed like a far-off memory, a fragile daydream she had taken for granted.
She used to roll her eyes at the monotony, grumble about the endless cycle of reports and meetings, but now, she’d give anything to return to those simpler times. Back then, her biggest catastrophes had been spilled coffee staining her blouse or a file mislaid at the worst possible moment. Now, her survival was hinged on split-second decisions, and every breath she took felt like a fragile bargain struck with fate.
The dread coiled tightly around her chest, its grip as unyielding as a vice, an invisible weight that pressed harder with each passing moment. What had been her sanctuary of routine and order was now a chilling monument to chaos, a graveyard where the ghosts of her normalcy lingered just out of reach.
She pressed her back against the icy wall, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as she fought to steady herself. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, a scent so sharp it clawed at her throat, mingling with the acrid stench of decay.
She clenched her eyes shut, but the darkness offered no comfort—only the haunting afterimages of what she had seen. Her coworkers, once familiar faces that greeted her with tired smiles or idle banter, now frozen in grotesque expressions of terror, their lifeless eyes etched into her memory. The vivid scenes of chaos and carnage replayed in her mind, as unstoppable as a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
A noise snapped her back to reality—a faint shuffling sound, slow and deliberate. Too precise to be a draft, too heavy to be a rat. Her breath hitched, and her pulse quickened, each beat a frantic drum against her ribcage. She forced her eyes open, scanning the dimly lit corridor. The emergency lights sputtered fitfully overhead, their erratic flashes throwing jagged shadows along the cracked walls. The flickering glow played cruel tricks on her vision, turning every shadow into a sinister figure.
“Focus,” she whispered to herself, the sound of her voice barely more than a breath. It was a feeble mantra, a thread she clung to in the oppressive silence. “You can’t lose it now.”
The noise came again, louder this time. A measured scrape of boots dragging against the tiles, each step deliberate, sending a fresh wave of tension racing up her spine.
Her knuckles whitened around the wrench as she edged closer to the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to call out, to demand who—or what—was there, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she froze, her ears straining for every sound.
“Hello?”
The voice startled her so badly she nearly dropped to the floor. Deep and firm, it resonated through the corridor with a confidence that cut through the suffocating silence. But beneath the authority, there was a raw edge, as though the speaker had been pushed far beyond his limits yet still refused to break.
(Y/n) hesitated, her breath catching in her throat as she slowly turned toward the sound of the voice, eyes wide and searching the shadows. Her pulse spiked as she finally spotted him: a man, standing at the far end of the corridor, silhouetted against the flickering emergency lights. The instant their eyes met, she felt a flicker of something familiar, like a dream half-remembered. But there was no time to dwell on it.
“Don’t shoot,” she whispered, her voice trembling, the words coming out almost like a prayer. She instinctively raised her hands, a weak attempt to show she was no threat, her fingers spread as if to placate whatever danger loomed ahead.
The man froze for a moment, then took a step forward, his boots echoing ominously on the cracked tile floor.
“Hey! You’re okay?” His voice was low but firm, a hint of reassurance in the midst of the chaos. He slowed his pace as he approached, his expression unreadable but focused. A handgun was gripped tightly in his right hand, its barrel pointed toward the floor, but the tension in his posture betrayed his readiness for anything. His eyes darted behind him, scanning the corridor with sharp intensity, as if expecting someone—no, something—to lurch from the shadows at any moment.
The motion startled (Y/n), snapping her back to the immediate threat, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, her mind struggling to process his presence.
“I… I think so,” she stammered, her words stumbling over the shock. Slowly, she lowered the wrench she had been holding like a weapon, her hands still shaking, the steel weight feeling too light and useless in the face of whatever nightmare was unfolding around them. She felt a thousand questions pulse through her brain, each one colliding with the next in a frenzy she couldn’t contain. Who was he? Why was he here?
The man seemed to sense her confusion. With a quiet exhale, he gave a wry smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as if trying to reassure her, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease.
“Leon Kennedy,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around them. “Rookie cop. It’s my first day.” His smile faltered for a moment, but he held her gaze, as if trying to make her believe the absurdity of the situation. “You?”
A sudden, painful jolt of recognition shot through her chest. Leon Kennedy. The name slammed into her mind like a freight train, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to blur. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat.
Leon Kennedy.
The name clicked into place, and with it, a memory. She remembered it so vividly: earlier this week, when she'd carefully arranged the welcome package on his desk—a neatly wrapped box, a crisp card reading "Welcome to the RPD!" in cheerful script. He was supposed to spend his first day filing paperwork, getting acquainted with the precinct, and meeting the rest of the team.
But that was before. Before everything had gone to hell.
“(Y/n) (L/n),” she said, her voice barely a whisper as the reality of the situation slammed into her. She swallowed hard, trying to push through the shock. “Secretary… I… work here. Or, I did.”
Her voice faltered, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The weight of the truth—the sense that everything she once knew had shattered in an instant—pressed heavily on her chest. The silence between them seemed to stretch, filled with the unspoken recognition that whatever had once been normal, whatever routines they had lived by, were gone.
Her eyes darted down the hallway, and the brief moment of connection with Leon evaporated as the faint, agonizing groans began to swell in the distance—low, guttural, unmistakable. They were coming.
“We need to move,” she said, her voice sharp and urgent, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them. Her head whipped back to Leon, her heart racing. “They’ll be here soon.”
Leon nodded, his eyes briefly flicking to the hallway, where the groans of the undead grew louder with every passing second. He didn’t need to say anything—his grip on his pistol tightened, and without a word, he gestured for (Y/n) to follow him. She didn’t hesitate. Despite the fear gnawing at her insides, there was something about the calmness in his actions that steadied her nerves, even if just for a moment.
“Stay close,” Leon muttered, his voice low, but filled with determination. He didn’t know how long they could keep moving through this nightmare, but for now, he had to keep her safe.
(Y/n) nodded, her hands gripping the wrench tightly as they moved through the hall, their footsteps echoing too loudly in the otherwise oppressive silence. Every creak and groan of the building felt like it could signal the arrival of the undead at any moment, but Leon remained steadfast in his forward motion, the coolness in his demeanor a stark contrast to the panic she felt bubbling just beneath the surface.
The tension between them was palpable as they moved, their bodies brushing occasionally in the narrow spaces, the proximity making the world feel both impossibly small and overwhelming. She didn’t want to acknowledge the pull she felt toward him, the flicker of something deeper than simple survival, but it was there, undeniable. Each time their eyes met, a brief spark ignited between them—one that sent a warmth spreading through her chest, despite the icy terror of their surroundings.
Suddenly, a deafening bang shattered the eerie silence that had settled over the police station. The walls trembled, and for a split second, everything seemed to freeze in place.
The sound came from somewhere deep within the building, too close for comfort. The groans of the undead—low and guttural—were suddenly replaced by a much more disturbing noise: the unmistakable pounding of footsteps, too fast, too purposeful.
(Y/n)'s blood ran cold. The undead were running.
She didn’t have time to react before Leon’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm with a vice-like grip. “Shit! Move!” he barked, his voice urgent, filled with a raw edge of panic she had never heard before.
Instinct kicked in. The wrench slipped from her trembling fingers as they broke into a frantic sprint down the hallway. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and her mind buzzed with the overwhelming need to survive. The sound of their footsteps pounding against the floor was drowned out by the deafening chaos behind them—the gurgling, growling, and the rapid shuffle of feet that made it clear the undead were closing in fast.
Leon led the way, his eyes flicking from side to side, searching for any sign of an escape. The building felt like a maze, every corner sharp and unfamiliar. The flickering lights overhead offered little reassurance, casting erratic shadows that seemed to mock them as they ran. Each hallway twisted in on itself, turning their flight into an endless blur of desperation.
A growl from behind—closer now—made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat. She risked a glance over her shoulder, her breath hitching as a figure lurched around the corner, its limbs twisted and jerking unnaturally. But it wasn’t just one. More followed, an unstoppable mass of death, their grotesque forms shifting into view one by one.
Her pulse pounded in her throat. The sound of her breath was ragged, shallow, as she pushed herself harder, running faster, but the undead were getting closer. She could hear them gaining ground, their growls growing louder, by the second.
“Right there!” Leon shouted, pointing to a small door at the end of a corridor. He grabbed the door handle and threw it open. The small room beyond was dark, cramped, but it would have to do. There was no time to question their options.
“Get in!” Leon urged, his voice strained as the noise of the undead grew closer, the pounding of their steps reverberating through the walls.
Without thinking, (Y/n) stumbled into the room, Leon close behind. He slammed the door shut just as a faint, cold draft swept through the cracks. The door rattled as something heavy slammed against it, followed by the terrifying sound of clawing, scraping. The creatures outside were trying to get in, desperate and relentless.
In a rush of motion, Leon slammed the deadbolt into place. His chest heaved with each labored breath, and his face was bathed in a sheen of sweat, his normally composed demeanor now marred by the sheer weight of the situation. He glanced around the small, dimly lit room, his eyes searching for anything that could help them.
The room was stifling, the air thick with the smell of sweat and fear, the faint sound of scraping claws against the door echoing through the small, windowless space. It was barely big enough for them both, their bodies pressed too close together in the dim light that barely reached the corners of the cramped room. The heavy weight of the silence between them felt suffocating, like the world outside had fallen away entirely.
Their breath came in jagged bursts, sharp and rapid as they both tried to steady themselves, their chests heaving with the effort of their frantic sprint. Leon’s hand gripped the pistol at his side, his knuckles pale from the tension, but his eyes never left the door, watching the tremors as the undead outside clawed at it, their frantic, inhuman noises getting louder with each passing second.
(Y/n)’s heart raced, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins, but she could feel the physical toll of their escape. Her legs ached, her body trembling with the aftershock of the sprint.
She couldn’t stop glancing at him. Leon. He was standing so close, his presence oddly comforting despite the chaos around them. She could feel the heat from his body radiating against her, the proximity unsettling in the midst of all this terror. She barely noticed how close they were until the sharp intake of air from his lungs made her acutely aware of the space between them—or rather, the lack of it.
They were both breathing heavily, and even in the small, quiet room, every movement felt amplified. Her hands were still shaking, though she hadn’t noticed until now, clutching her sides, trying to calm herself. She swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away.
She risked a glance up at him, her (e/c) eyes meeting his, and saw the tension written clearly across his face. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his jaw clenched. He didn’t look scared—not really—but there was something else in his gaze. Something raw. Something she couldn’t quite place.
“We’re okay for now,” Leon murmured, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile peace they’d found in this dark little room. He shifted slightly, turning his back to the door and his face toward her, eyes flicking quickly over her face, scanning her for signs of injury.
(Y/n) nodded slowly, though the words were caught in her throat. Okay for now was a far cry from safe—she could feel the tremors running through her, and it wasn’t just from the running. The reality of what was happening, what was coming for them, threatened to swallow her whole.
The moment seemed to stretch out, and for a heartbeat, it was as if the world had stopped moving, leaving them suspended in the stillness of the room. She could feel Leon’s breath on her neck, the subtle shift of his body, the quiet way his shoulders flexed as he adjusted his grip on his weapon. Every inch of him seemed alert, calculating, as though he was ready to face whatever came next.
Leon exhaled deeply, his breath steadying as the pounding on the door behind him slowly faded into sporadic thuds and scraping. The undead were persistent, but for now, the thick metal and deadbolt held firm. His grip on his pistol relaxed slightly, though the tension in his shoulders lingered.
He turned to look at (Y/n) more closely, his sharp blue eyes scanning her face for any visible injuries. She seemed unharmed, but the wide, glassy look in her eyes spoke volumes about the fear gripping her. Her breath was still shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she leaned against the wall, clutching her sides.
Leon cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You okay? I mean… physically?” His voice was quieter than before, tinged with genuine concern.
(Y/n) blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Yeah,” she managed, her voice shaky but audible. “I think so. Just… catching my breath.”
Realizing they might be stuck in this cramped room for longer than either of them would like, Leon shifted his stance and leaned his back against the wall. He slid down into a crouch, resting his forearms on his knees, the pistol still securely in his hand but no longer raised. The movement was calculated, deliberate—he wanted to look less imposing, more approachable.
“So, (Y/n)… you’ve been at the station a while?” he sighed, keeping his tone casual, as if they were chatting over coffee instead of hiding from the undead. His hand glided through his golden locks, a futile attempt to calm himself.
“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steadying slightly, plopping down beside him. “Three years. It wasn’t exciting, but it was steady. And the people… they were good.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment, memories flashing before her—coffee breaks with the officers, small jokes shared in the hallway, the familiar hum of the station when it was alive with activity. Her throat tightened. “Most of them, anyway.”
Leon nodded, understanding the weight behind her words. He decided not to press further, sensing that the memories were too raw. Instead, he shifted the focus back to her. “So, what made you want to work at the station in the first place?”
(Y/n) hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “I guess… I liked the idea of being part of something bigger. Helping people, even if it was just behind the scenes. My dad was a cop, so I kind of grew up around it.” She paused, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. “He used to joke that I’d end up in uniform someday. Guess I took a different route.”
Leon’s eyebrows lifted slightly, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Your dad was a cop? That’s cool. Where did he work?”
“Here,” she said quietly. “At the RPD.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “He passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Leon said sincerely, his voice soft.
“Thanks,” she murmured, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the dusty floor.
(Y/n) took a deep breath, the weight of her father's memory pressing against her chest. She tilted her head slightly, glancing at Leon. "What about you? Why'd you decide to join the force?"
Leon leaned back against the wall, his eyes briefly flickering toward the door, still braced against the relentless scratching and groaning from the other side. He let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "You really want to know?"
"Yeah," she said, her voice firm but curious. "Feels like a good time to get to know my fellow survivor."
He smiled faintly at that, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to soften the tension etched into his face. "Well, believe it or not, I always wanted to be a cop. Thought it was the best way to make a difference, you know? Help people, protect them." He glanced at the gun in his hand, the weight of it seemingly heavier now. "But, uh… this wasn’t exactly the first-day orientation I was expecting."
(Y/n) couldn't help but smile at that, despite the grim reality around them. "Yeah, I bet. This probably wasn’t in the welcome packet."
(Y/n)’s smile turned wistful, a flicker of regret passing through her expression. She looked down at her hands, her fingers idly picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "You know," she began softly, "I was actually supposed to be the one to welcome you here."
Leon blinked, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah." She nodded, her gaze lifting to meet his. "It’s kind of a thing we do. Whenever a new officer joined the station, we’d try to make it feel like home. I even had a little present ready for you." Her lips quirked up in a faint, bittersweet smile. "It wasn’t much, just a coffee mug with the RPD logo. Thought it might help you settle in."
Leon’s face softened, his usual stoicism giving way to something gentler. "A coffee mug, huh? That would’ve been nice. Better than the 'Welcome to Hell' vibe I got instead."
(Y/n) chuckled, though the sound was tinged with sadness. "There is supposed to be a sign, too. One of the other officers and I made it. Big letters that said, 'Welcome, Leon!' ." She paused, the memory of the ordinary, cheerful gesture contrasting sharply with their current nightmare. "I hung it up in the office… before everything went wrong."
Leon leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched her. "I think I would’ve liked that. A lot, actually."
The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I just… I wanted you to feel welcome. Starting a new job, in a new city—it’s a big deal. I wanted to make it easier." Her voice dropped, a tinge of guilt creeping in. "But instead… instead, this is what you walked into."
Leon shook his head firmly. "This isn’t your fault, (Y/n). None of it is. If anything, the fact that you cared enough to do all that in the first place says a lot about the kind of person you are." He offered her a small smile. "And for what it’s worth? I think you did a pretty good job of making me feel welcome, even now."
(Y/n) felt heat rise to her cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude swirling in her chest. She ducked her head slightly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice almost trembling. “I’m… I’m glad we stumbled upon each other.”
Leon’s smile deepened, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Yeah,” he said, his tone warm and genuine. “Me too.”
She lifted her gaze, meeting his, and for a moment, the oppressive weight of their situation seemed to ease. There was something grounding about his presence—his calm, his strength—even in the face of the horrors surrounding them. And in turn, she realized, he must see something similar in her. Why else would he take the time to comfort her, to try and keep things light when the world around them was anything but?
“You’re pretty good at this, you know,” she said after a moment, her lips curving into a shy smile.
Leon tilted his head, a glimmer of curiosity in his expression. “At what?”
“Keeping it together,” she said, her smile turning just a bit teasing. “Keeping me together.”
He laughed quietly, the sound soft and low, but genuine. “I wouldn’t give me too much credit. I’m just winging it like everybody else.”
“Still,” she replied, her voice more certain now. “It helps. You help.” She hesitated, then added, “I don’t think I’d still be here if you hadn’t come along.”
Leon looked up at her, his blue eyes catching hers and holding them. There was something in his gaze—an unspoken warmth, a quiet appreciation that made the small space between them feel even smaller. "You," he said, his voice steady but low, "you’re a lot stronger than you think. Don’t forget that."
Her breath caught for a moment, the sincerity in his words striking a chord deep within her. She felt a shy smile tug at her lips, but it was the kind that came with a warmth she couldn’t quite place. "Thanks," she murmured, her cheeks warming again.
(Y/n) swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in her throat. "Maybe when this is over, I'll get you that coffee mug," she said, her voice soft but carrying a hint of determination. "I was told that I make a mean cup of coffee".
Leon tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Deal. But only if you throw in the sign, too."
She let out a soft laugh, the sound like a fragile spark in the darkness. "You drive a hard bargain, Kennedy."
She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so many days just… wishing for things to be different.” She paused, a wistful sigh escaping her lips. “I always wanted some suspense in my life, but this… this isn’t what I had in mind."
“I didn’t know how to say it,” she whispered, her voice trembling just a little, “but I don’t want to be alone in this anymore. Not if… not if you’re here.”
His heart skipped a beat, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. He felt the heat between them, a palpable connection that both scared and thrilled him.
“I’m right here. And I don't plan on leaving,” he said softly, his thumb grazing her cheek.
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him. The soft touch of his fingers against her skin sent a wave of warmth through her, and her heart, for the first time in ages, felt lighter. She had spent so much time locked away in her own thoughts, in her own fears, that she had forgotten what it felt like to let someone in. To feel cared for in a way that wasn’t conditional.
Leon didn’t pull away. His hand remained close, fingers still lingering on her skin, as if anchoring her in the moment. He could feel her hesitation, the uncertainty in her eyes, and it mirrored his own thoughts. There was something about this—about them—that felt so right, yet so unexplainable.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, as if testing the waters of this uncharted territory. Her words were soft, but they carried the weight of everything unspoken between them.
“I’m sure,” he said, his eyes steady, unwavering. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin. The space between them seemed endless, but the pull to bridge it was stronger. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he whispered breathlessly.
She closed her eyes, the sensation of his warmth so close making her heart beat in a way that almost felt too fast, too raw. She reached up, her hand trembling as it hovered near his, before she slowly placed it on his chest. His heartbeat echoed beneath her palm, steady and reassuring. In that moment, the world outside them seemed to fade away, the noise, the danger, the chaos—it was all distant.
Leon didn’t wait any longer. His fingers, so gentle at first, slid to the back of her neck, pulling her towards him just enough to close the remaining space. The moment their lips met, it was slow, tentative, as if both of them were testing the waters, unsure but willing. The kiss was warm, lingering, and the softness of it felt like a promise in the midst of everything uncertain.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing a little heavier, their faces mere inches apart. Leon looked at her, his eyes soft but intense, searching for any sign that this had been a mistake, that he had misread something. But all he found was a quiet understanding in her gaze, a soft warmth that mirrored his own.
(Y/n) brushed a hand over his chest, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jacket, as if trying to ground herself in the moment. “This feels…” She stopped, unsure of how to put it into words. “It feels like it’s happening so fast. But it’s not wrong, is it?”
“No,” Leon said, his voice low and steady, “it’s not wrong. Sometimes… sometimes things just happen, and you don’t question them. You just… you just let them be.”
Her smile, small and unsure, appeared again, this time softer, more genuine. “I guess I’m starting to understand that.”
Leon leaned in once more, his lips grazing her forehead in a soft, fleeting kiss. "When all of this is over," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, "how about we go on a date?"
Synopsis: Y/n, ordered to aid the Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa, faces his harsh dismissal and emotional distance. Their clash culminates in a painful confrontation, pushing Y/n into danger as Sanemi confronts his own guilt.
The dense forest loomed ominously as Y/n made her way through the tangled undergrowth. Ancient trees, their bark scarred and twisted, seemed to close in around her, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers yearning for a touch of the unknown. The canopy above was so thick that only sparse shafts of pale, waning light managed to pierce through, casting eerie patterns on the forest floor. The sunlight that did seep through was filtered into a ghostly green hue, giving the landscape an otherworldly, almost sickly appearance.
The undergrowth was a tangled mess of brambles and vines that seemed to reach out and snare at her clothes and limbs, as if the forest were unwilling to let her pass without a struggle. The whispering breeze through the treetops carried with it an eerie, almost mournful wail, blending with the distant rustle of unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.
Y/n’s senses were on high alert. Every snap of a twig, every rustling leaf, felt magnified, as though the forest was amplifying every sound to heighten her anxiety. The trees, with their twisted roots and dense foliage, formed a labyrinthine maze that seemed to shift and change with every glance, leaving her with an unsettling sense of disorientation.
Despite her purpose, the dense forest pressed in on her, its dark and oppressive presence making each step forward a struggle against the creeping unease that gnawed at her resolve. The mission given to her was clear, to locate the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, and assist him in his hunt for a powerful demon.
After what felt like an eternity of twisting and turning through the labyrinth of trees, Y/n emerged into a small, secluded clearing. The transition from the oppressive shadows of the forest to the openness of the clearing was striking, like stepping through a veil into another world. The sky above, painted with the hues of the setting sun, cast a warm, golden glow that filtered through the trees, bathing the clearing in a soft, ethereal light.
In this fragile moment of twilight, she saw him. The sight was as sudden as it was unexpected—a figure standing alone in the clearing, framed by the waning light. Sanemi Shinazugawa, the fierce and formidable Hashira known for his unyielding presence, now seemed like a ghostly apparition amid the tall grass that swayed gently in the evening breeze.
The tall grass around him seemed to bow and bend in homage to the tranquility of the moment, the gentle sway of the blades creating a ripple effect that contrasted starkly with his rigid form. As Y/n approached, the last rays of sunlight bathed him in a warm, almost nostalgic glow, highlighting the stark contrast between his battle-hardened exterior and the rare, exposed fragility that now defined him. The forest fell silent, the sounds of the evening fading into the background, leaving only the profound stillness of the clearing and the enigmatic figure it held.
Y/n’s heart raced as she drew closer, her gaze lingering on his powerful form. The broad shoulders of his uniform were outlined against the backdrop of the forest, and the intricate design of his haori added an element of ceremonial grace to his formidable appearance. She could see the faint gleam of his sword at his side, a testament to his readiness and skill.
As she approached, her steps slowed, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Sanemi" Her (e/c) eyes lowered respectfully, unable to hold his gaze for long. The weight of his rank and the unspoken expectation of respect seemed to envelop her.
With a practiced grace, she bowed her head deeply, her posture reflecting a blend of reverence and anxiety. Her fingers brushed against her thighs as she maintained the bow, her breath steadying in the brief silence that followed. The bow was not just a gesture of respect but a symbol of the deference she felt for his status and the unspoken bond of their shared responsibilities.
Sanemi spun around, the abrupt motion causing his silver hair to whip through the air like a silver streak. His dark eyes, sharp and intense, widened momentarily in surprise before narrowing into slits of irritation. The girl standing before him was an unexpected sight, her presence clashing with his grim determination. He could see the way her (e/c) eyes darted nervously.
Sanemi’s brow furrowed deeply, the familiar lines of irritation etching themselves across his face. He clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing as he took in her presence. “Why are you here?” he demanded, his voice a harsh growl that seemed to echo the grating annoyance in his eyes. “I didn’t ask for any help.” The words were sharp, each syllable a testament to his frustration and the unspoken acknowledgment of her intrusion into his solitary battle. His gaze flicked over her, assessing her as both an interruption and an unwelcome distraction from his focused resolve.
The dim light of the setting sun filtered through the thick canopy overhead, casting an ethereal, golden glow around him, making him look almost like a figure from a myth. His handsome face, covered by that big scar, was set in a grim expression, the familiar features of the young boy she used to know, now hardened and distant.
Y/n's heart ached at the sight. Memories of their shared laughter and carefree days flitted through her mind like ghosts, a stark contrast to the man who now stood before her, surrounded by an aura of steely determination and solitude. The walls he had built were formidable, both literal and metaphorical, as if he were encased in a fortress of his own making.
"I was ordered to assist you," she said, her voice a soft but unwavering murmur against the backdrop of the forest's stillness. Each word felt like a bridge she was trying to build, one stone at a time, across the chasm that had grown between them. The determination in her voice was laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability, a plea for him to see beyond the walls he had so meticulously fortified.
Sanemi's eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze slicing through the dim light forest. His frown deepened, etching stark lines across his forehead and casting shadows that seemed to darken the very air around him. Every muscle in his face was taut, a silent testament to the cold, unyielding resolve that had settled over him since their reconciliation.
The temperature felt suddenly colder, the warmth that had once lingered in moments of tentative peace now replaced by an almost palpable chill. His voice, when it came, was low and edged with a frost that could cut through steel. "Fine. Just stay out of my way." Each word was deliberate, spoken with a precision that only heightened the distance between them.
The space between them felt vast and inhospitable, like the icy expanse of a winter landscape. Sanemi's posture was rigid, his body a coiled spring of suppressed tension. The lingering remnants of their past camaraderie seemed to evaporate in the face of his unrelenting demeanor. It was as if the very air was charged with his unspoken frustrations, a stark contrast to the moments of fragile understanding they had shared before.
The days that followed were fraught with tension. Each morning, the air seemed heavier, laden with the unspoken conflict that crackled between Y/n and Sanemi. The sun would rise over the horizon, casting long shadows over the winding path that led them toward the village where the dangerous demon had been spotted. The thick forest had given way to a rugged landscape, where the trees thinned, replaced by jagged rocks and creeping vines that seemed to mirror the tension between them.
Y/n walked a few paces behind Sanemi, her eyes lingering on his broad back. The silence between them was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. She tried to bridge the gap that had grown between them, reaching back to the memories of their shared childhood, hoping to find a way through the hardened exterior he had built around himself.
"Do you remember," she began tentatively, her voice soft in the quiet morning air, "how we used to play in the neighborhood? We’d run around until the sun set, and you’d always win those silly races we had." She offered a small, wistful smile, hoping to coax a reaction from him, to remind him of the bond they once shared.
Sanemi’s stride didn’t falter, but she noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the only sign that he had heard her. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, a flash of the boy he used to be—the one who would smile, laugh, and look at her with a warmth that had long since disappeared.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. His expression hardened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gruff, edged with irritation. "That was a long time ago," he said curtly, his tone dismissive. "We're not kids anymore."
Y/n’s heart sank, but she refused to give up. "I know we’ve both changed, but that doesn’t mean everything has to be different. We were close, Sanemi. We can be that way again. We can—"
Sanemi abruptly stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face her. His dark eyes bore into hers, the intensity of his gaze causing her to falter. "This isn’t a game, Y/n," he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. "You need to stop living in the past. We’re not those kids running around without a care in the world. We’re demon slayers, and this is life or death."
The words hit Y/n like a punch to the gut. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I know that, Sanemi," she replied, her voice steady but laced with a hint of hurt. "But that doesn’t mean we have to be strangers. We’re stronger together—"
"Stronger?" Sanemi interrupted, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. "You think being close makes us stronger? It makes you weak. It makes you hesitate, and hesitation in this line of work gets you killed."
Y/n flinched at the coldness in his voice, but she stood her ground. "And what about you, Sanemi? What about how it affects you? Do you think pushing everyone away makes you stronger? It’s not weakness to care about someone."
Sanemi’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more conflicted. He took a step closer to her, his presence looming, the air around them thick with tension. "You don’t get it, do you?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "The more you care, the more you lose. If you stay close to me, you’ll just end up dead like the others. You’re a liability, Y/n. You should’ve never joined the Demon Slayers."
The words cut deep, sharper than any blade. Y/n’s breath hitched, and she felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Sanemi saw the glistening tears welling up in Y/n's eyes, catching the faint light that filtered through the dense canopy above them. For a split second, something akin to regret flashed across his hardened features, but he quickly smothered it beneath a mask of cold indifference. He refused to let emotion sway him; he had a mission, and attachments only served as distractions—a lesson he had learned through pain and loss.
Ignoring the tremble in Y/n's lower lip and the hurt evident in her gaze, Sanemi took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them. His presence was imposing, shadows casting sharp angles across his face, accentuating the fierce determination etched into every line.
"Look at you," he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt as his eyes raked over her form. "You can’t even handle a simple conversation without getting all emotional. How do you expect to face a demon when you’re this weak?"
Y/n's breath caught in her throat, the sting of his words cutting deeper than any physical wound. She squared her shoulders, trying to maintain her composure, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her turmoil. "I'm not weak, Sanemi. I've trained hard, just like you. I can handle myself."
He let out a derisive laugh, the sound echoing eerily through the silent forest. "Is that what you think? That a few training sessions make you capable? You’re delusional." His eyes bore into hers, unrelenting and cold. "You’re just a naive girl. This isn’t some childhood game where you can pretend to be brave. Out here, one mistake means death."
The tears that had threatened to spill now streamed freely down Y/n's cheeks, leaving glistening trails against her flushed skin. She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she struggled to hold onto her resolve. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "Why are you trying so hard to push me away?"
Sanemi's expression hardened further, his jaw tightening as he closed the remaining distance between them. He leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin despite the chill in his words. "Because you don't belong here," he snarled, each word deliberate and biting. "You're a liability—a burden I didn't ask for and don't need. The battlefield is no place for someone as soft as you."
The accusation hung heavy in the air, the silence that followed thick with unspoken pain and frustration. Y/n's eyes widened, shock and hurt mingling in their depths. She had expected resistance, even anger, but the cruelty in his words was beyond anything she had anticipated.
Sanemi continued, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper that seemed to seep into the very shadows around them. "Do you think your presence helps me? All you do is distract me, make me worry about keeping your sorry ass alive instead of focusing on the mission. You're nothing but dead weight."
A sharp inhale escaped Y/n's lips as his words struck their intended target, each syllable designed to wound and drive her away. The memories of their shared past, the laughter, and the camaraderie, all seemed to crumble under the assault of his relentless contempt.
She searched his eyes desperately for any hint of the boy she once knew, for any sign that this was just a facade, a shield to protect something more vulnerable beneath. But all she found was a hardened gaze and a coldness that seemed impenetrable.
"Maybe if you spent less time clinging to the past and more time understanding your own limitations, you wouldn't be so pathetic," Sanemi pressed on, his tone merciless. "Go back home, Y/n. Find a safe, quiet life where you won't get yourself killed. Leave the real fighting to those who can handle it."
Something inside Y/n snapped at that moment. The accumulation of hurt, frustration, and unacknowledged pain boiled over, transforming into a surge of defiant anger that coursed through her veins like fire. Her eyes blazed with a newfound intensity as she looked up at him, no longer the picture of vulnerability but of simmering wrath.
Without warning, her hand swung upward in a swift, decisive motion, connecting sharply with Sanemi's cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the forest, startling birds from their perches and sending them fluttering into the darkening sky.
Sanemi's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, a reddening imprint already forming on his cheek. For a moment, shock rendered him motionless, his eyes wide with surprise as he slowly turned back to face her. The fiery determination in Y/n's gaze was unmistakable, her chest heaving with the intensity of her emotions.
"How dare you," Y/n hissed, her voice trembling with an emotion so raw it seemed to cut through the thick air around them. "How dare you belittle everything I've worked for. You think pushing me away will protect me? All you're doing is hurting the both of us."
Sanemi's gaze faltered, the sharpness in his eyes dulling as her words struck a chord he hadn’t anticipated. The tears streaming down her cheeks glistened in the fading light, each drop falling with the weight of her broken heart. She had always been strong, had always fought to be seen as more than the fragile girl from their childhood. And now, here she was, standing before him, baring her soul despite the anguish he had caused.
"I looked up to you," she continued, her voice cracking with the intensity of her sorrow. "I trusted you. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe the Sanemi I knew is truly gone."
The finality of her words hit him like a blow to the chest, harder than any physical strike could ever manage. He had driven a wedge between them, and in his attempt to protect her by building walls, he had destroyed the very thing he was trying to preserve.
Before he could react, Y/n turned on her heel and ran, her footsteps quick and frantic as she fled the scene. The green woods swallowed her figure quickly, leaving only the echoes of her departure and the fading scent of her presence behind.
Sanemi’s hand reached out as if to stop her, but it was too late. His voice caught in his throat, a hoarse whisper of her name barely escaping his lips as she disappeared into the forest. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, the overwhelming weight of regret sinking into him as he stood alone in the clearing.
The memories of their childhood flashed through his mind like fragments of a dream—the laughter they shared, the carefree days that seemed so distant now. But those memories were overshadowed by the faces of those he had lost, the people he had cared for who had been torn away by the cruel reality of their world. He had hardened himself, encased his heart in a shell of steel, believing that it was the only way to survive. To keep others safe.
His heart pounded furiously, a visceral reminder of the weight of his own words. He had pushed her away, driven by the belief that distance would keep her safe, but all he had done was wound her deeply. The vision of her tear-streaked face flashed before his eyes, the fire in her gaze as she stood her ground against him. The anger he had seen in her was not just anger—it was pain, the pain he had caused by shattering the bond they once shared.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice low and filled with self-loathing. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the silver strands as if the physical pain could distract him from the turmoil churning inside him. His eyes darted to the darkening sky, the last traces of sunlight slipping away, leaving the forest bathed in the eerie half-light of dusk.
A cold realization washed over him, chilling him to the bone. The sun was nearly gone, and night was rapidly descending upon the forest. This was when the demons emerged from the shadows, hunting for prey under the cover of darkness. The thought of Y/n alone in the woods, vulnerable and exposed, sent a surge of fear through him.
"Damn it, Y/n!" he swore to himself, this time with urgency as he spun on his heel and took off in the direction she had fled. His feet pounded against the forest floor, each step a frantic attempt to close the distance between them. The underbrush tore at his clothes and skin, but he paid it no mind—his only focus was on finding her before it was too late.
The forest was a labyrinth of shadows and shifting shapes, the familiar terrain now a treacherous maze as night closed in around him. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, set his nerves on edge, his senses heightened as he strained to catch any sign of her. He knew the dangers lurking in the dark—the demons that would be drawn to the scent of fear, to the vulnerability of a lone human.
His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he pushed himself to move faster, his heart racing not just from exertion but from the mounting fear gnawing at his insides. The regret he felt was like a lead weight in his chest, slowing him down, but he couldn’t afford to stop—couldn’t afford to let his guilt paralyze him.
“Y/n!” he called out, his voice echoing through the trees. The sound was swallowed by the dense foliage, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. “Y/n, answer me!”
The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as he searched, the light fading rapidly until only the faint glow of the rising moon provided any illumination. The shadows grew longer, darker, more menacing, and Sanemi’s fear escalated with each passing second.
His pulse quickened as he stumbled upon the entrance to the village, the worn wooden gates standing as a stark contrast to the twisted, dense forest that surrounded it. The air was cooler here, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of wood smoke from the hearths of the small, isolated settlement. He paused for a moment, trying to steady his breath and push down the gnawing anxiety that threatened to overtake him.
Maybe Y/n had already made it to the village. Perhaps she had sought refuge with the elder, resting after their intense confrontation. The thought brought him a momentary sense of relief, but it was fleeting. His gut twisted with lingering unease as he walked through the gates, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened streets for any sign of her.
The village was quiet, unnervingly so. The usual sounds of evening—chatter from the houses, the occasional bark of a dog—were absent, replaced by an oppressive silence that only deepened his sense of dread. The few villagers he saw were quick to retreat indoors, their expressions drawn with fear as they peered cautiously from behind shuttered windows. Sanemi’s presence was met with a mixture of relief and trepidation, the villagers recognizing the garb of a Hashira but still uneasy in the face of the growing threat that loomed over their homes.
He made his way to the elder’s residence, a modest house at the center of the village, its entrance marked by a lantern whose weak, flickering light barely held back the encroaching darkness. Sanemi’s footsteps were heavy against the cobblestone path, each step a battle against the rising tide of panic that threatened to consume him.
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, his eyes immediately landing on the village elder. The old man, with his hunched back and a face lined with the passage of many seasons, looked up from where he sat by a low, flickering fire. His eyes, though dim with age, held a wisdom that spoke of countless years spent enduring the hardships of this secluded life.
“Ah, you must be the Wind Hashira,” the elder greeted, his voice a rasp that cracked with the weight of years. He gestured for Sanemi to sit, his gnarled hands trembling slightly as he poured tea into a small, chipped cup. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Sanemi nodded curtly, accepting his offer. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the demon,” he said, his voice still tense but now edged with a steely calm“We need to locate and eliminate it as quickly as possible.”
The elder’s weathered face grew somber as he nodded slowly. “Yes, the demon has been plaguing our village for weeks now. It strikes at night, taking the lives of our people before slipping back into the shadows of the forest. We believe it lairs deep in the woods, in a place where the trees grow so thick that no sunlight can penetrate. The villagers call it the ‘Heart of the Forest.’”
Sanemi’s jaw clenched. The description fit the sort of territory where a demon would thrive, where it could easily evade hunters and strike at will. But there was something else gnawing at him, something the elder had said that didn’t sit right.
“We’ll do whatever it takes to eliminate this threat,” Sanemi replied, his voice hard with resolve. “The sooner we find the demon’s lair, the better.”
The elder nodded again, his eyes narrowing in thought as he took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea. “I appreciate your resolve, young man, but who is this ‘we’ you speak of? I didn’t see anyone else arrive at the village gates with you.”
Sanemi’s heart skipped a beat, the elder’s words hitting him like a sledgehammer to the chest. He had been so focused on the mission, so desperate to believe that Y/n had already made it to safety, that he had pushed aside the gnawing doubt gnawing at him since he entered the village.
“She didn’t come through the gates?” Sanemi asked, his voice low and tinged with a dread he couldn’t suppress.
The elder shook his head slowly, his brow furrowing in concern. “No, you were alone when you arrived. If there was someone else with you, she must still be out there… in the forest.”
Sanemi’s blood ran cold, the weight of the elder’s words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Y/n was still out there. Alone. In the dark, demon-infested woods.
“Damn it!” Sanemi swore, the curse slipping past his lips before he could stop it. The elder flinched at the harshness of his tone, but Sanemi didn’t care. The only thing that mattered now was finding Y/n before it was too late.
Without another word, Sanemi turned on his heel and bolted out of the elder’s house, his mind racing as he sprinted through the village streets. Panic clawed at his insides, the fear he had kept at bay now surging to the forefront as he retraced his steps to the village gates.
He should have never let her leave his sight. He should have gone after her the moment she ran. But he had been too consumed by his own demons, too blinded by the belief that distancing himself from her would keep her safe. And now, she was out there, in the dark, with the very real possibility that the demon had already found her.
The forest loomed before him, a wall of blackness that seemed to pulse with malevolent intent. Sanemi barely slowed as he reached the tree line, plunging back into the woods with a speed fueled by desperation. The trees closed in around him, their gnarled branches reaching out like claws, but he pushed on, ignoring the sharp sting of leaves and twigs that whipped against his skin.
“Y/n!” he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and fury. “Y/n, where are you?”
The forest swallowed his voice, the dense canopy overhead muting the sound to little more than a whisper. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent his heart racing as he strained to hear any sign of her, any indication that she was still alive and fighting.
But the forest was vast, a labyrinth of shadows and twisted paths that seemed to go on forever. He had no idea which direction she had run, no way of knowing how far she had gone or if she had been intercepted by the demon along the way.
The darkness pressed in on him, the trees a blur as he pushed himself harder, faster. The thought of her alone, scared, and vulnerable drove him forward with a reckless abandon that bordered on madness. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
“Y/n!” he called again, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, answer me!”
His breath came in ragged gasps, his lungs burning with the effort, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Not until he found her.
Just as he was about to call out for her again, he heard it—a sharp, metallic clash, followed by a grunt of pain. The sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins, and he sprinted toward the source, his feet barely touching the ground.
When he broke through the last line of trees into a small clearing, the sight that greeted him stole his breath away.
Y/n was there, locked in fierce combat with the demon that had been terrorizing the village. The creature was massive, with grotesque, elongated limbs and a maw full of razor-sharp teeth. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent hunger as it lashed out at Y/n, who stood her ground, her sword gleaming in the faint moonlight that filtered through the canopy above.
She was bleeding, a deep gash on her arm and another across her cheek, but her (e/c) eyes were blazing with determination. There was no fear in her stance, only the fierce resolve of a girl who had everything to prove. She swung her sword with precision and power, each strike aimed to kill, each movement calculated and controlled.
Sanemi’s heart clenched as he watched her, a mix of pride and fear warring within him. She was strong—stronger than he’d given her credit for—but the demon was relentless, and he could see that she was exhausted.
The demon lunged at Y/n with a feral snarl, its claws slashing through the air. She sidestepped just in time, her sword slicing through the creature’s arm, sending black blood spraying across the clearing. The demon roared in pain, its rage palpable as it swung its other arm at her, aiming to knock her off her feet.
But Y/n was faster. She ducked under the blow and drove her sword upward, burying the blade deep into the demon’s torso. The creature howled, its body convulsing as it tried to shake her off, but she held on, her grip on the hilt unyielding.
“Come on, you bastard,” Y/n gritted out, her voice a mix of pain and fury. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Sanemi’s chest swelled with a fierce pride at her bravery, but he could also see the danger she was in. The demon was wounded, but far from defeated, and it was getting desperate. Its movements became more erratic, more dangerous, as it thrashed in an attempt to dislodge her.
Without wasting another second, Sanemi drew his own sword and rushed forward. The demon didn’t see him coming, too focused on Y/n to notice the Wind Hashira closing in. With a swift, decisive motion, Sanemi slashed through the demon’s neck, severing its head in one clean stroke.
The demon’s body froze, then crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud, its severed head rolling away into the shadows. For a moment, the clearing was silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of Y/n and Sanemi as they stood over the fallen creature.
Y/n staggered back, her strength finally giving out as she dropped to one knee, her sword slipping from her grasp. Sanemi was at her side in an instant, kneeling beside her and catching her before she could fall any further.
“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice rough with emotion as he gently cradled her against him. Her face was pale, her body trembling from exertion and blood loss, but her eyes still burned with the fire of defiance.
“I’m not… weak,” she panted, her voice barely a whisper, but her words were firm, laced with the last remnants of her strength.
Sanemi’s heart twisted painfully at her words. He brushed a strand of (h/c) hair away from her face, his fingers trembling slightly as he took in the sight of her—injured, exhausted, but still fighting. “I know,” he whispered, his voice choked with regret and admiration. “I know you’re not.”
Y/n’s eyelids fluttered, the adrenaline that had kept her going finally ebbing away, leaving her drained. She leaned into Sanemi’s chest, her breathing shallow but steady. “I wanted… to prove you wrong,” she murmured, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. “I wanted to show you… that I’m not just some… helpless girl.”
Sanemi's heart ached as he cradled Y/n in his arms, feeling the weight of everything he had put her through. The dim light of the moon filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow over her pale, exhausted face. Her breaths were shallow but steady, her body finally succumbing to the weariness that had been gnawing at her throughout the battle.
As he held her close, Sanemi couldn't help but feel a swell of admiration mixed with deep regret. She had fought with everything she had, proving herself in a way that left no doubt about her strength and determination. But it was also a strength she should have never needed to prove, a battle she shouldn’t have had to face alone. His chest tightened with guilt, knowing that it was his harsh words and stubborn pride that had driven her to this point.
With each step back toward the village, the rhythmic sound of his foosteps crunching over leaves and twigs seemed to echo the thoughts racing through his mind. He glanced down at her face, peaceful in sleep despite the dirt and blood that marred her features. The fire she had shown in battle still lingered in his memory, a testament to her courage and resilience.
A small sigh escaped Y/n's lips as she shifted slightly in his arms, her head resting against his chest. The movement caused Sanemi to slow his pace, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. The fierce determination she had shown in the fight was now replaced by a vulnerability that tugged at his heart.
He tightened his grip on her, holding her just a bit closer as if to shield her from any lingering danger. The warmth of her body against his was a stark contrast to the coldness he had surrounded himself with for so long. For the first time in a long while, Sanemi allowed himself to feel something other than anger, other than fear—he allowed himself to feel the depth of his care for her, the weight of the bond they once shared and could still reclaim.
As they neared the edge of the forest, where the village lights flickered like beacons in the distance, Sanemi paused. His gaze lingered on Y/n’s face, her eyelids fluttering slightly as she slept, and before he could second-guess himself, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The touch was light, barely more than a brush of his lips against her skin, but it was filled with all the unspoken apologies and promises he carried in his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her brow, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. “I’ll never push you away again. I promise.”
Y/n stirred slightly at the touch, a soft hum escaping her as she nestled closer to him, her body relaxing completely in his arms. Sanemi’s breath hitched, a mixture of relief and tenderness flooding through him as he held her closer, carrying her with a renewed sense of purpose.
The village loomed ahead, the warm glow of lanterns and the promise of safety beckoning them forward. But as Sanemi walked, he knew that the real journey was just beginning—the journey to repair what had been broken between them, to build something stronger and more enduring.
With Y/n resting safely in his arms, Sanemi made his way through the village gates, determined to start that journey the moment she awoke. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, no longer as distant strangers, but as partners, equals, and perhaps, one day, something more.
Synopsis: Kyojuro and (Y/n) were childhood friends who grew up together, sharing dreams, laughter, and memories. As time passed, they were pulled apart by the responsibilities and expectations of their families. Now, years later, they are reunited by an arranged marriage, destined to rekindle the bond they once shared.
Warning: 🔞 minors do not read/interact: contains 18+ content, smut/erotica,
The cicadas sang in the late summer afternoon, their song mingling with the distant rustle of leaves as a soft breeze passed through the sprawling courtyard. The estate was grand, yet there was a sense of old-world elegance that made it feel timeless. The garden was filled with lush greenery, flowers in bloom, and a koi pond that shimmered under the dappled sunlight. It was the kind of place where time seemed to stand still, yet today, it marked a pivotal moment in two lives.
(Y/n) stood at the edge of the garden, her thoughts drifting to memories of a time when the world seemed simpler, a time when she and Kyojuro were inseparable.
She remembered the way they used to race through these very gardens, their laughter echoing through the air as they chased each other, pretending to be mighty demon slayers defending the world from the flesh-eating demons. Kyojuro, with his boundless energy and unwavering determination, always declared that he would become the strongest Hashira. And (Y/n), who admired his spirit, always promised to stand by his side.
But childhood dreams often gave way to reality. The responsibilities of their respective families and the expectations placed upon them had pulled them apart. It had been years since they had seen each other, and now, fate had brought them together once more.
"Lady (Y/n), the preparations are complete," a voice called from behind her, pulling her from her reverie.
She turned to see one of the attendants bowing respectfully. "Thank you," she replied softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within her.
(Y/n) quietly sat in the tearoom, her hands folded delicately in her lap, though her heart was anything but still. She had known this day was coming for months now, ever since her family had informed her of the arrangement. An arranged marriage—a union forged not by love, but by duty.
As she waited, she couldn't help but wonder what Kyojuro would be like now. Would he still be the same spirited boy she had known? Or had the years changed him, just as they had changed her?
The door to the tearoom slid open, and (Y/n) looked up, her breath catching in her throat. There he stood, tall and proud, his golden eyes alight with the warmth of a thousand suns. His haori, emblazoned with fiery patterns, fluttered slightly as he stepped inside, his presence commanding yet gentle.
When their eyes met, time seemed to stand still. The years of separation melted away, and for a moment, they were just Kyojuro and (Y/n) again, two children with dreams too big for the world.
"(Y/n)," Kyojuro greeted her, his voice warm and filled with a sincerity that touched her heart.
"Kyojuro," she responded, her lips curving into a small smile.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and kneeled in front of her. "It's been a long time," he said, his gaze never leaving hers.
"It has," she agreed, searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling. But Kyojuro had always been difficult to read, his emotions often hidden beneath a mask of strength and optimism.
"I am glad to see you again," he continued, his tone earnest. "I have thought of you often over the years."
His words surprised her, and she felt a flicker of hope. "I have thought of you too," she admitted, her voice soft.
A moment of silence passed, but this time, it was not so heavy. There was something about Kyojuro’s demeanor that made it easier to breathe, easier to accept the reality of their situation. He was kind, even in his strength, and there was no trace of arrogance in his gaze—only a genuine interest in getting to rekindle their shared bond.
“I understand that this marriage was arranged,” he began, his tone gentle but direct, “but I want you to know that I do not take it lightly. I will do everything in my power to ensure your happiness and well-being, (Y/n). You have my word.”
His words were sincere, and they eased some of the tension in her heart. "Thank you, Kyojuro. That means a lot to me."
He smiled, the warmth of it reminding her of the boy she had once known. "We were close friends once, (Y/n). Perhaps we can find that friendship again."
"Perhaps we can," she agreed, feeling a spark of hope.
Before they could speak further, the shoji doors slid open with a soft, almost reverent sound. The presence of their parents and the elders immediately filled the tearoom with an air of solemnity and purpose. Kyojuro’s father, Shinjuro, stepped inside first, his imposing figure softened by the formal attire he wore. His face, weathered by years of battle and responsibility, showed a rare calm, though his intense gaze remained fixed on his son.
Following Shinjuro were (Y/n)’s parents, who moved with a grace that spoke of years spent in refined surroundings. Their expressions were poised, but the faintest glimmer of concern lingered in their eyes as they took in their daughter’s face. They knew the weight of the duty they had placed upon her, and yet, there was an unspoken hope that this union might blossom into something more.
The elders entered last, their presence dignified and commanding. They took their places around the room, their hands folded within the sleeves of their robes, ready to officiate the ceremony that would bind the two families together.
Kyojuro rose to his feet as the elders began to speak, their voices low and resonant, reciting the ancient words that had joined countless couples before them. (Y/n) followed suit, her movements measured and graceful, though her heart beat wildly in her chest. She stood beside Kyojuro, feeling the warmth of his presence as they faced the elders.
The ceremony proceeded with a quiet reverence, the traditions unfolding with a precision that spoke of centuries of practice. (Y/n) and Kyojuro listened as their respective family histories were recounted, their ancestral lines entwined through words and ritual. The significance of the moment was not lost on either of them—this was more than a marriage; it was a merging of legacies, a pact that would shape the future of both families.
As the final prayers were uttered, Kyojuro took a small, intricately carved box from one of the attendants. He opened it, revealing a delicate, gold ring adorned with a single flame-colored gemstone. The sight of it took (Y/n)’s breath away. The stone seemed to flicker with an inner fire, reminiscent of Kyojuro’s spirit.
“With this ring,” Kyojuro began, his voice steady and filled with resolve, “I vow to protect you, to honor you, and to cherish you, (Y/n). May our union be as strong and enduring as the flame that burns within this stone.”
He gently took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. The metal was cool against her skin, but the weight of it was reassuring, like a tangible promise.
(Y/n) looked up into Kyojuro’s eyes, and for a moment, the world around them faded away. She could see the sincerity in his gaze, the depth of his commitment to making this marriage work, not out of obligation, but out of a genuine desire to build a life together.
“I accept your vow, Kyojuro,” she responded, her voice soft but unwavering. “And I, too, vow to stand by your side, to support you, and to honor the bond we now share.”
The elders nodded in approval, and with that, the final blessing was bestowed. A sense of finality settled over the room as the ceremony concluded. The union was complete.
For a moment, there was silence, a brief pause in which the reality of what had just happened sank in for everyone present. Then, Kyojuro’s father spoke, breaking the quiet with a firm but gentle tone. “May this union bring strength to our families and honor to our ancestors.”
The tearoom, now filled with murmurs of approval from their families, suddenly felt too confined. Kyojuro, sensing the need for some fresh air and perhaps a moment to collect their thoughts, turned to (Y/n) with a gentle smile.
“Shall we take a walk?” he asked, his voice soft enough that only she could hear.
(Y/n) nodded, grateful for the suggestion. Together, they bowed respectfully to their parents and the elders, then quietly slipped out of the tearoom. The cicadas’ song had grown louder as they stepped into the courtyard, the late summer sun casting a warm, golden light over the garden.
The path they chose meandered through the estate, leading them past the koi pond that had shimmered during the ceremony, and under the shade of ancient trees whose branches swayed gently in the breeze. The atmosphere was serene, a perfect contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had surrounded them just moments ago.
For a while, they walked in companionable silence, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and the distant chatter of birds. Despite the calm, (Y/n) could feel the tension in the air, a subtle undercurrent that neither of them had yet addressed. She stole a glance at Kyojuro, noticing how his expression was thoughtful, yet his shoulders remained relaxed, a sign of his unwavering composure.
After a few more steps, Kyojuro slowed his pace, and then, as if gathering his courage, he turned to her. His golden eyes, so full of warmth and sincerity, met hers, and she could see a hint of something deeper—perhaps a vulnerability he rarely showed.
“(Y/n),” he began, his voice low and earnest, “I know this has been a lot to take in, and I want you to know that your comfort and happiness are important to me.”
She listened intently, sensing that he was building up to something significant.
He took a deep breath before continuing, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks, a rare sight for someone as confident as Kyojuro. “If you don’t feel comfortable yet... if you’re not ready... we don’t have to... consummate the marriage tonight. We can take our time, get closer to each other again... I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
His words hung in the air between them, filled with a tenderness that touched (Y/n) deeply. She hadn’t expected this level of consideration, and it warmed her heart to know that Kyojuro was thinking of her well-being.
For a moment, she was at a loss for words. She had been prepared for the formalities, the duties, and even the expectations that came with this union, but this gentle offer was something unexpected, something precious. She realized then that, despite the years and the distance that had come between them, Kyojuro was still the same person she had admired as a child—kind, thoughtful, and deeply respectful.
“Thank you, Kyojuro,” she said softly, her own cheeks warming with a blush. “That means more to me than you know. I... I think I would like to take things slowly. There’s so much we’ve both been through, and I’d like to rekindle our friendship before anything else.”
He smiled, a look of relief washing over his features. “Of course, (Y/n). We’ll take this one step at a time, together.”
They continued their stroll, the tension easing with every step as they talked about the simpler things—memories of their childhood, the state of the garden, even the koi that darted through the pond as if unaware of the significance of the day.
As they reached a secluded part of the garden, where the path wound around a small grove of cherry trees, Kyojuro paused and turned to face her fully. “I’m glad we’re taking this walk. It reminds me of how we used to explore these gardens as children, finding secret spots to hide or making up stories about the demons we would one day defeat.”
(Y/n) chuckled softly, the memories of their shared adventures brightening her mood. “We were so fearless back then, so sure of ourselves. It feels good to remember those times.”
Kyojuro nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “We were fearless because we had each other. Perhaps, as we walk this new path together, we can find that courage again.”
(Y/n) smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest that was different from the anxiety she had felt earlier. It was a warmth born of hope and the rekindling of an old bond, one that she realized might be stronger than she had thought.
“Yes,” she agreed, meeting his gaze with newfound confidence. “I believe we can.”
Days turned into weeks, and as the late summer slowly transitioned into the golden hues of autumn, (Y/n) and Kyojuro settled into their new life together. The initial formality that had surrounded them after their marriage began to melt away, replaced by a growing comfort and familiarity.
They spent much of their time walking through the estate gardens, often in the early mornings when the dew still clung to the grass, or in the evenings when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Their conversations flowed easily, filled with both light-hearted banter and deeper reflections on their lives and responsibilities.
(Y/n) found herself drawn to Kyojuro in ways she hadn’t expected. She admired his dedication to his training, the way he approached each day with a sense of purpose and determination that never wavered. His mornings were often spent in rigorous practice, the echoes of his strikes against wooden training dummies resonating through the estate. She watched him sometimes, from a distance, marveling at how his movements were both powerful and graceful, a testament to the years of discipline and hard work that had shaped him into the warrior he had become.
It wasn’t just his skill that captivated her, but also his physical presence. Kyojuro had grown into a man who embodied strength and confidence. His broad shoulders, honed from countless hours of training, his strong arms that moved with precise control, and the way his haori clung to his muscular frame—all of it left (Y/n) acutely aware of how much he had changed since their childhood days.
One morning, after finishing his training, Kyojuro noticed her spying on him, his skin glistening with sweat, his breath slightly labored from the exertion. He smiled at her, his golden eyes warm and bright, as if he hadn’t just spent hours pushing his body to its limits.
“Good morning, (Y/n),” he greeted her, his voice as spirited as ever. “Have you been watching me train?”
“Good morning, Kyojuro,” she replied, her voice slightly higher than usual, betraying her sudden self-consciousness. “I… I was just enjoying the morning air.”
Kyojuro, perceptive as always, noticed the faint blush on her cheeks and couldn’t help but feel a similar heat rising to his own face. He wasn’t used to feeling flustered, especially not around (Y/n), but there was something about this moment—something about the way she looked at him, her eyes full of warmth and perhaps something more—that made his heart race just a little faster.
He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of bashfulness. “It’s alright if you were watching. I don’t mind,” he said, his golden eyes meeting hers with a sincerity that made her heart flutter. “In fact, I’m glad you’re here. Your presence makes the morning even better.”
(Y/n) felt her blush deepen, and she looked down at her hands, trying to compose herself. “You’ve become very skilled, Kyojuro,” she said, her voice softer now. “Watching you train… it’s inspiring. You’ve truly grown into the hashira you always dreamed of being.”
Kyojuro’s expression softened at her words, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, (Y/n). That means a lot coming from you.”
He stepped closer to her, the air between them charged with a subtle tension. “And now that we’re together again, I feel even more determined to keep those promises we made to each other back then.”
(Y/n) looked up at him, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions—fondness, admiration, and something deeper, something that had been growing quietly in the back of her mind since they had reunited. She had always cared for Kyojuro, but now… now there was something more, something that made her heart skip a beat whenever he was near.
“I’m glad we’re together again too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It feels… right, somehow.”
Kyojuro nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Yes, it does,” he agreed, his tone gentle.
As they stood there, the world seemed to blur around them, leaving only the two of them in sharp focus. Kyojuro's golden eyes, filled with warmth and sincerity, held (Y/n)'s (e/c) gaze with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The morning air, once cool and refreshing, now felt charged with an energy that neither of them could ignore.
Kyojuro took a small step closer, the gap between them narrowing until only a breath's distance separated their bodies. He hesitated for a brief moment, as if searching her face for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was a reflection of his own longing. Her eyes, wide and bright, spoke volumes that words could never express.
"(Y/n)," he murmured, his voice soft and full of emotion, "I've missed you more than I can put into words. Being near you like this... it feels like I've found something I didn't even realize I was missing."
His words, so tender and sincere, struck a chord deep within her. (Y/n) felt a swell of emotions rise in her chest, and before she could think twice, she reached out, her hand lightly resting on his arm. The contact, though small, sent a shiver down her spine, and she could see the same effect in the way Kyojuro's breath hitched ever so slightly.
"Kyojuro," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart, "I feel the same way. I’ve thought about you so much over the years, and now that we're here... together... it feels like we’re exactly where we’re meant to be."
Her hand slid up his arm, feeling the strength and warmth beneath her fingers, until it reached his shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat—strong and steady—echoing the rhythm of her own. Kyojuro’s other hand rose, hesitantly at first, before settling gently on her waist. The touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were afraid she might slip away if he held her too tightly.
Time seemed to slow as they gazed at each other, the world around them fading into a soft blur of colors and sounds. The cicadas’ song, once so prominent, now seemed distant, like a gentle hum in the background of this moment that belonged only to them.
Kyojuro’s hand, warm and reassuring, slowly trailed up from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her just a fraction closer. Their bodies, now almost touching, radiated a shared heat that mingled with the warmth of the late summer morning. (Y/n) felt herself drawn to him, as if some unseen force was gently pulling them together, guiding them toward an inevitable moment that had been years in the making.
He leaned in, his forehead gently touching hers, and she closed her eyes, savoring the closeness, the way his breath mingled with hers, warm and inviting. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with the promise of what could be, and neither of them wanted to break the spell.
With a tenderness that belied the strength he was known for, Kyojuro tilted his head, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was as gentle as a whisper, a soft, tentative connection that sent a surge of warmth flooding through her body. The world around them seemed to disappear entirely, leaving only the sensation of his lips against hers, the softness of his touch, and the overwhelming sense of rightness that filled her heart.
(Y/n) responded instinctively, her hand sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her palm. She kissed him back, allowing herself to be lost in the moment, in the feel of him, the taste of him, the undeniable connection that had always existed between them, now fully realized in this tender embrace.
Kyojuro deepened the kiss slightly, his hand on her back pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin as he poured all the emotion he had kept locked away for so long into this one, perfect kiss.
When they finally pulled away, it was only by a breath. Their foreheads rested together, eyes still closed as they savored the moment, the closeness, the connection that had just been forged between them.
(Y/n) opened her (e/c) eyes slowly, her gaze meeting his once more. In his golden eyes, she saw everything she had ever hoped for—kindness, strength, warmth, and a deep, abiding love that had quietly grown over the years they had been apart.
"Kyojuro," she breathed out softly, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of her feelings. "I've never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I had to. I've carried those feelings with me every day."
He searched her eyes, the depth of his own emotions mirrored in hers. "Neither have I," he confessed, his voice husky with longing. "I've tried to ignore it, to focus on my duties, but it's always been there."
They once more closed the gap between them. Their kiss grew more intense, their bodies responding to the unspoken confessions of their hearts. The softness of their lips grew more insistent, more urgent, as if they were trying to convey every unsaid word, every unexplored feeling through this single point of contact.
Kyojuro's hand traveled up her back, his fingers threading gently through her hair. He cradled her head, tilting it to deepen the kiss, and she sighed into his mouth, her body melting into his embrace.
The heat between them grew, and their kisses grew more passionate, the gentle brush of their lips now replaced by a hunger that had been building for years. His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, sending shivers down her spine, while her hand gripped his uniform shirt, holding onto him as if he was her lifeline.
He broke away for a moment, just long enough to gaze at her again, to make sure she was ready for what was to come. Her eyes, filled with desire and trust, gave him the answer he needed. He leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a kiss that spoke of all the moments they had missed, all the love they had denied themselves.
Their breaths melded together, their hearts racing as one. The hand on her waist grew more possessive, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled her even closer. He could feel the softness of her curves pressed against him, and the heat grew, a fire that threatened to consume them both.
(Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the strands of his hair. Her own need grew with every touch, every caress. She wanted more of him, all of him, and she wasn't afraid to show it.
Kyojuro's hand traveled down her back, coming to rest at the base of her spine, his touch burning through the fabric of her clothes. He pulled her hips closer, the evidence of his desire clear as he held her against him.
Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as their bodies seemed to speak a language of their own. Her hands roamed his shoulders, exploring the muscles beneath his shirt, feeling the power and warmth of his body. He groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her, setting her ablaze.
They stumbled backward, and she found herself pressed against the warm, rough bark of the tree, Kyojuro's body caging hers protectively. His kisses grew more feverish, dropping to her neck, where he placed open-mouthed kisses that left her gasping for air.
Her own hands grew bolder, sliding down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. She could feel his breath on her skin, hot and uneven, and she arched into him, seeking more of his touch.
Their bodies moved in a silent dance, a symphony of passion that had been waiting to be played for far too long. The whispers of the wind in the leaves above them seemed to cheer them on, as if nature itself was celebrating their reunion.
Kyojuro's hand slid around to the front of her shirt, his fingers brushing the skin just above her waist, causing her to shiver. He paused, looking into her eyes again, questioning.
"Don't stop," she whispered, her voice thick with need. "I want this. I want you."
The words were all the encouragement he needed. He unbuttoned her shirt, exposing the soft, delicate skin beneath. He kissed her collarbone, her shoulders, his mouth leaving a trail of fire wherever it touched. She leaned back against the tree, her eyes closed, lost in the sensation of his lips on her skin.
Their kisses grew wilder, more frantic, as the passion between them reached a boiling point. They were no longer just two people reunited after years apart; they were two souls finally finding their way back to each other, ready to embrace the love that had always been there, ready to let it consume them completely.
Kyojuro broke away, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need you."
(Y/n) nodded, her own need clear in her eyes. "Take me, Kyojuro," she urged, her voice a soft plea. "Make me yours."
With a groan, he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the soft, moss-covered ground beneath the tree. He laid her down gently, his eyes never leaving hers as he removed her shirt, his gaze drinking in the sight of her bare skin.
He kissed her again, his hand sliding up to her bare breast. He took his time, worshiping each inch of her body with his mouth, leaving her trembling and desperate for more.
Their clothing fell away, piece by piece, until they were both naked beneath the warm embrace of the summer sun. Kyojuro took a moment to look at her, to appreciate the beauty that had haunted his dreams for so long.
He leaned over her, his body a delicious weight that felt comfortable to her. His kisses grew more insistent, his hands exploring every inch of her, relearning the contours of her body. Her own hands roamed his back, her nails digging in slightly as she urged him closer.
With a primal growl, Kyojuro claimed her mouth once more, his tongue delving deep as he felt the warmth of her body beneath him. Her legs parted willingly, inviting him in, and he settled between her thighs, feeling the heat of her core against his erection.
He took a moment to breathe in her scent, a heady mix of sweat and arousal that made him dizzy with need. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, his tongue swirling around her hardened nipples, making her gasp and arch into his touch.
(Y/n)'s hands slid down to his waist, her nails scraping lightly against his skin as she urged him closer. He complied, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that had her hips rising to meet him. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the connection between them palpable.
Kyojuro reached down, his hand sliding between their bodies to stroke her slick folds. She was wet and ready for him, her arousal a testament to the depth of her feelings. He groaned, the sound resonating through his chest as he felt her heat against his fingertips.
"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "So beautiful."
"It's because of you," she breathed, her eyes never leaving his. "Because of how much I want you."
He slid a finger inside her, feeling her tighten around him. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, watching her face contort with pleasure.
"Kyojuro," she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "Please…"
With a gentle nod, he positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against her. He paused, looking into her eyes, ensuring she was ready. She nodded, her eyes glazed with passion.
Slowly, he pushed inside her, feeling the tightness of her pussy as it stretched to accommodate him. She gasped, her nails digging into his back, but she didn't protest, didn't ask him to stop. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
He thrust into her, the sensation of her warm, wet heat around him almost too much to handle. Her walls clenched around him, and he had to fight to keep from coming right then and there.
They moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly, as if they had been made for this very moment. Each thrust was a declaration of adoration, each kiss a promise of forever.
(Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs tightening around his waist as she met his every thrust. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean down and capture one in his mouth, sucking gently as he fucked her.
Her moans grew louder, her breathing more ragged, as he hit that perfect spot inside her. She writhed beneath him, her hips matching his rhythm, her body begging for release.
"Kyojuro," she screamed his name, her nails scratching down his back as she reached the peak of pleasure. Her body tightened around him, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave.
Her moans echoed through the quiet garden, a testament to the passion that had been secretly building between them over the years. Kyojuro felt her pussy spasm around his cock, her body shuddering with the force of her release. He groaned, his own orgasm approaching like an unstoppable storm.
He quickened his pace, his strokes growing more powerful as he claimed her fully. (Y/n)'s eyes met his, her gaze full of trust and love, and that was all it took for him to lose control. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, filling her with his warmth as he reached his peak.
Their bodies trembled together, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through them as they clung to each other, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the morning. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their hearts beating in sync, the feel of their skin pressed together, and the knowledge that they were finally where they belonged.
As the intensity of their union began to wane, Kyojuro pulled out of her gently, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned down to kiss her again, a soft, lingering press of his lips that spoke of the love and tenderness that had grown from the friendship of their youth.
They lay there for a while, the warmth of the sun and the gentle rustle of the leaves the only companions to their shared silence. The world around them had not changed, and yet, everything felt different. They had crossed a threshold, one that would shape their futures and the bond they shared.
(Y/n) rested her head on Kyojuro's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was a sound that had been absent from her life for too long, and now it was the sweetest melody she could imagine.
The warmth of his embrace was like a balm to her soul, and she felt a sense of belonging she had never known before. This was more than just the culmination of an arranged marriage; it was the reawakening of a love that had never truly been extinguished.
"(Y/n)," Kyojuro murmured in between pants, his voice thick with emotion. "I never imagined, it would be like this."
"Neither did I," she replied, her voice just as raw with feeling. "But I'm so glad it did."
He leaned closer to press a soft kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her slightly. "We will make this work," he promised, his voice filled with determination. "Together, we can conquer any challenge that comes our way."
Her eyes searched his, and she knew he meant every word. The bond they shared was unbreakable, forged not just by the vows they had exchanged earlier that day, but by the years of friendship and longing that had brought them to this moment.
They lay there for a while longer, the only movement the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed in unison. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the lingering scent of their passion. It was a heady mix that seemed to anchor them to the moment, to each other.
As Kyojuro and (Y/n) gathered their discarded clothing, the quiet rustle of fabric was the only sound that broke the tranquil silence between them. Kyojuro leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, and whispered softly, "Tonight, we will consummate our marriage in every way." His words, laced with promise, sent a shiver down her spine, anchoring them both in the intensity of the moment.
I absolutely love your fics, what are some of the up coming fics you are writing??
Thank you so much for enjoying my work! I’m thrilled to hear that you’re excited about what’s coming up. I’ve got some Demon Slayer stories in the works that I think you’ll really enjoy, and I’m also planning to continue "Embers of Sorrow." ^^
Synopsis: Levi and his squad are on a desperate mission to find (Y/n) and her missing team. After discovering signs of a recent battle—broken equipment and bloodstains—they press on, hoping against hope that they’ll find survivors.
The dense forest was a stark contrast to the chaos that lay beyond its shadowed depths. It was eerily silent, save for the occasional distant groan of Titans and the relentless, rhythmic hiss of ODM gear slicing through the air. Levi, ever the embodiment of stoicism, cut through the foliage with his squad trailing in precise formation. His usual expression of impassive determination was marred by a rare hint of turbulence as memories of battles long past churned in his mind.
Farlan's face emerged from the depths of his memory, vivid and clear. Levi remembered his friend’s unwavering courage, that rare blend of humor and resolve that had held the squad together in those desperate times. Farlan's voice echoed in Levi’s mind, a constant reassurance during their darkest moments. He could almost hear Farlan’s laugh, that rough, unrestrained sound that had always managed to cut through the thick veil of despair.
Isabel followed closely behind in his recollections. She was a beacon of warmth in the cold, her eyes always gleaming with a mix of kindness and fierce determination. Levi recalled her spirit, her laughter mingling with Farlan's in the cramped quarters of their makeshift base. She had a way of making even the bleakest situations seem more bearable, her presence a silent promise that they would make it through.
(Y/n)’s face also appeared in his mind, her features as clear and vivid as if she were standing beside him in the forest. Unlike Farlan and Isabel, (Y/n) was alive, a constant presence in his life since those grim days in the underground city. The memory of their first meeting came rushing back, bringing with it a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and warmth.
“Hey! You little thief, come back here!” a man shouts. His voice a mixture of frustration and anger.
A young girl, her facial expression etched with a mix of fear and determination, cut through the crowd as she sprinted away from the man, clutching a piece of bread tightly in her small, trembling hands.
Behind her, the food stand owner’s rage fueled his pursuit. His face, contorted with fury and a sense of injustice, grew more menacing with each stride. He was a large man, his bulk and strength a stark contrast to her small frame, and his anger only seemed to make him faster, more relentless.
As she darted around corners, her heart pounding in her chest, she could hear his heavy breaths and the angry shouts that echoed through the narrow streets. Her legs screamed in protest, but she couldn’t afford to stop, not with the relentless anger of the food stand owner closing in.
She took a sharp turn into a smaller alley, her hope fleeting as she realized the walls were closing in. She pressed her back against the grimy brick, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to steady herself. The bread, clutched tightly to her chest, was now smeared with grime, but she wouldn’t let it go. Not now. Not ever.
The sound of heavy footsteps grew closer, each step echoing her mounting fear. The food stand owner’s voice, filled with a venomous mixture of rage and righteousness, cut through the darkness. “You think you can just take what isn’t yours? You’re nothing but a thief!”
The girl’s eyes darted around the dead-end alley, her hope extinguishing with every passing second. The food stand owner’s figure loomed closer, his anger palpable, when a sudden noise cut through the night. The man’s heavy footsteps faltered as a new figure appeared at the entrance of the alley.
Levi, his dark eyes cold and unwavering, stepped into view. His expression was a stark contrast to the food stand owner’s rage—calm, controlled, and filled with an underlying intensity. He moved with lethal precision, his presence commanding immediate attention.
The food stand owner turned, his eyes widening in recognition and surprise. “You!” he began, but his words were cut short as Levi advanced with swift, practiced motions.
Without a word, Levi’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, the force of the blow sending him staggering back. The food stand owner roared in pain, but Levi was relentless. He moved like a blur, his strikes precise and unforgiving, each hit fueled by a steely resolve that left no room for mercy.
The alley was filled with the harsh sounds of the fight—cracking blows, grunts of pain, and the thud of bodies hitting the ground. Levi’s attacks were calculated, each movement a testament to his exceptional skill. It wasn’t long before the food stand owner, battered and defeated, lay crumpled at the base of the wall, his anger extinguished by Levi’s unyielding assault.
Levi turned his gaze to the girl, his eyes softening as he took in her disheveled, terrified form. The fierce protector that had emerged from his stoic exterior was now replaced by a flicker of concern. He approached her slowly, his movements careful, as if afraid to startle her further.
“It’s okay,” Levi said, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe now.”
The girl looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and relief. The bread, still clutched to her chest, seemed almost insignificant compared to the unexpected salvation that Levi represented. Her tears, once brimming with fear, began to fall freely as the weight of her ordeal lifted.
Levi extended a hand, offering her a sense of security. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Captain Levi, we’ve reached the western perimeter of the forest,” Petra’s voice came through clearly, though there was an edge of concern in her tone. “What are your instructions?” He took a deep breath, his mind snapping into the present as he scanned the surroundings.
“Hold your position at the perimeter,” Levi instructed, his voice steady and authoritative. “We’ll need to assess the situation before moving forward. The Titans are more active in this area, and I don’t want to risk an ambush. Prepare for any potential engagement, but keep your movements minimal and calculated.”
Levi and Farlan sat at a makeshift table in their small cramped quarters, the flickering light of a single lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was thick as it always was down here. They had just finished discussing their next mission when (Y/n) burst through the door, her face flushed with a mix of determination and frustration.
“Levi!” she called out, her voice cutting through the haze of the room. “I want to go on the next mission with you and Farlan.”
Levi looked at her, his expression a mixture of surprise and skepticism. “No,” he replied bluntly. “The missions are dangerous. It’s not something you can just jump into.”
(Y/n) wasn’t deterred. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with determination. “I can handle it. I’ve been training hard. You don’t think I’m ready, but I can prove myself.”
Farlan, who had been quietly observing, exchanged a glance with Levi before speaking. “Levi, she’s right. We’ve seen her skills firsthand. She’s not a novice.”
Levi’s gaze met Farlan’s, a silent but firm signal for him to leave. Farlan, understanding the message, stood up from the table. “See you both later.”
As Farlan left the room, the door closing behind him with a muted thud, the atmosphere between Levi and (Y/n) grew thick with tension. The small quarters seemed even smaller now, as if the walls themselves were closing in under the weight of their confrontation.
Levi's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You’re too inexperienced for this kind of mission. It’s not just about fighting; it’s about surviving. And right now, you’re not ready for that.”
(Y/n) stood her ground, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’m tired of being treated like I’m helpless. I’ve trained hard, and I’ve proven myself. I’m ready to take on real challenges. I want to be useful, not just sit here and clean the house.”
Levi’s gaze softened for a brief moment before hardening again. “This is about your safety. The missions we undertake are dangerous, and losing someone because they were unprepared is something I won’t accept.”
(Y/n)’s face flushed with a mix of frustration and hurt. “I don’t need you to protect me like I’m a child. I’m capable of handling myself. If you keep holding me back, I’ll never get the chance to prove it. I want to be a part of this.”
Levi sighed, his frustration evident. “It’s not about holding you back. It’s about making sure you don’t get yourself killed. You think you’re ready, but you don’t know what it’s like out there. The fear, the chaos—things you can’t fully prepare for until you’ve faced them. I don’t want you to learn that the hard way.”
(Y/n) shook her head, her eyes blazing with determination. “I know what I’m getting into. I’ve seen enough to understand what’s at stake. If you keep treating me like I’m incapable, you’re only holding me back. I need to face these challenges to grow, to truly be a part of the team.”
Levi’s shoulders tensed as he struggled to maintain his composure. “And what if you get hurt? What if something happens that you can’t handle? I’ve seen too many good people fall because they weren’t prepared. I won’t let that happen to you.”
(Y/n) stormed out of the cramped quarters, her steps echoing angrily in the small room. The door slammed shut behind her with a decisive bang, leaving Levi alone in the dimly lit room. Levi watched her go, his face an impassive mask hiding the turmoil within. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he thought to himself, 'She’ll get over it.'
Levi’s thoughts snapped back to the present as Petra’s voice came through the radio, breaking the silence. “Captain Levi, we’re at the western perimeter. We’ve started a preliminary sweep of the area. No Titans in sight so far.”
Levi acknowledged her report with a nod. “Good. Keep your eyes peeled and stay alert. The Titans have been more active lately, so don’t let your guard down. Make sure to cover all the potential entry points. We don’t want any surprises.”
Levi recalled the day when Erwin Smith and his men had come for them in the underground city. The cramped, filthy corridors of the underground had seemed almost suffocating in their desperation. He could still see it vividly—the moment that had ignited a deep, consuming anger within him.
It had been a chaotic scene. Erwin, with his calm demeanor and authoritative presence, had confronted them, and his ultimatum had been clear: join the Scouts or face imprisonment. Levi’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anger, but one image had burned itself into his consciousness, overriding everything else.
In the midst of the confrontation, Levi had seen (Y/n) being roughly held by one of Erwin’s men. Her terrified expression, wide eyes pleading for any form of reassurance, had been enough to pierce through Levi’s hardened exterior. He remembered how her body had trembled, her almost sickly thin frame seemingly dwarfed by the imposing figure of the soldier who had gripped her arm tightly. That moment had crystallized his anger and helplessness.
As Erwin laid out the terms, Levi had felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He knew that joining the Scouts was the best way to ensure their survival, but the sight of (Y/n) in distress had made his decision all the more urgent. Her fear had become a catalyst, driving him to agree to Erwin’s terms without a second thought.
“Captain Levi, we’ve detected some unusual activity. The perimeter seems to be secure, but we’re picking up signs of movement further into the forest. Do you want us to investigate?”
Levi’s thoughts remained shadowed by the past, but he had a duty to perform. He squared his shoulders and responded, his voice carrying the weight of his resolve. “Proceed with caution. Investigate the movement but stay vigilant. We can’t afford any slip-ups. Report back with your findings as soon as possible.”
It was a day that seemed almost idyllic compared to the harsh reality they had grown accustomed to. The four of them ventured out on their first expedition beyond the walls. The sun had shone brightly that day, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. The sky, a vast expanse of unblemished blue, was a sharp contrast to the oppressive gloom of the underground that they were used to.
Levi remembered the moment vividly, the moment the gate opened revealing a world that was both beautiful and terrifying. He recalled how the gentle wind had ruffled (Y/n)’s (h/c) hair, sending it dancing around her face. Her (e/c) eyes, wide with wonder and a hint of apprehension, had seemed to drink in the sight of the open sky as if it were a rare and precious gift. She had smiled, a genuine expression of joy and freedom that Levi had never seen before.
The memory stood in stark contrast to the scene that followed shortly after. The tranquility of the day was shattered when Erwin Smith and his team arrived, their presence imposing and unwelcome. Levi felt a knot of dread tighten in his chest as they commanded (Y/n) to come with them. He remembered the way she nodded and gently waved goodbye to her friends, watching her until she disappeared. The calm authority in Erwin’s voice only deepened Levi’s sense of foreboding.
The next time their eyes had met, disaster had already struck. The memory was burned into his mind—a sight so devastating that it was almost unbearable. The rain and the dark fog may have made it hard to see, but Isabel and Farlan lay lifeless, their bodies marked by the brutal reality of their world.
It all happened so fast, the dark rain mingling with the tears on his face. Levi couldn't recall how the titan beside him was killed; all he could remember was the hollow ache in his chest, the searing pain of losing the people he had fought so hard to protect. The weight of his choices pressed down on him. He felt guilty and furious, willing to kill Erwin, who he held responsible for their deaths.
(Y/n) had been there, just a few steps away along with Erwins team. Her face was pale and stricken with shock, the sight of her friends’ deaths causing her to heave with a grief so deep it seemed to consume her. In that moment, Levi had wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, to shield her from the horror of what they had lost. He had wanted to lash out at Erwin, to find someone to blame for the senseless violence that had claimed his friends.
The rain had stopped, and the sun broke through the clouds, its warm light spilling across the battlefield as if to mock him. After all these years in the underground, the sight of the sun should have been a moment of triumph, a glimpse of freedom he had never known. But now, it only felt cruel, a stark reminder of everything he had lost.
Levi stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the lifeless remains of Isabel and Furlan, the weight of his failure crushing him. The sun's warmth did nothing to thaw the cold emptiness inside him. He was free, but at what cost?
(Y/n)’s footsteps echoed softly as she approached the fallen. Her silent tears mirrored the sorrow in his heart, each drop falling like a hammer on his soul. She knelt beside them, her trembling hands reaching out, but there was nothing she could do—nothing either of them could do to bring them back.
The sight of her grief, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, made him feel more helpless than ever before. All the strength he had, all the skill, had amounted to nothing. He wanted to speak, to offer some comfort, but the words choked in his throat, trapped by the overwhelming sense of loss.
“So, you’re the only survivor.” Erwin’s gruff voice pierced through the rain, heavy with judgment. “How pathetic.”
The words stung, igniting a fire within Levi. He didn’t waste a second—fueled by rage and grief, he lunged at Erwin, his blade aimed to kill. But Erwin’s reflexes were lightning-fast, his hand catching the blade just in time. Blood dripped from his hand, mingling with the rain, but Erwin’s grip didn’t falter.
Levi’s eyes burned with fury, the raw pain of his loss driving him to push harder, but Erwin’s gaze remained steady, unwavering, as if daring Levi to finish what he started. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, the air thick with unspoken words.
"I'm going to... kill you!" Levi gasped, his breaths ragged and fast. "That's why I'm here!" he screamed, his voice cracking with the agony that dripped from every word. His heart pounded in his chest, driven by a fury he could barely contain.
Erwin's gaze remained steady, unflinching, as he dropped the documents they had been after onto the ground, revealing them as fake. Levi's eyes widened in fury, his voice trembling with rage as he shouted, "You knew everything from the start!"
(Y/n)'s soft cries filled the air, her sobs a haunting backdrop to the scene. Erwin glanced her way, his expression unreadable as Levi continued to seethe.
"You knew we were after you, and yet you—" Levi's voice broke as he lunged at the tall man, desperate to exact his revenge. But before he could reach him, Mike intervened, grabbing hold of Levi and stopping him in his tracks.
Levi struggled for a moment before suddenly going still. He knelt down beside (Y/n), his anger momentarily overshadowed by concern as he looked at her. The tears that had been streaming down her face had stopped, and something else now shone in her (e/c) eyes—a look that struck him to the core.
He could see the pain in her gaze, the grief and despair, but there was something more—something resolute, as if she had made a decision. The sight of it made Levi’s chest tighten, his rage flickering as he grappled with the depth of their shared loss.
As Levi looked at the faces of his fallen friends, their final words echoed in his mind, haunting him with the weight of their loss. Isabel's laughter, Furlan's determination—they all seemed so distant now, like memories from another life. The pain was suffocating, a grief so raw it threatened to consume him entirely.
But suddenly, Erwin's voice cut through the memories like a sharp blade. "Don't. You'll regret it."
Levi looked up, shocked by the calm authority in Erwin's words. The blond man’s gaze was unwavering, piercing through the storm of emotions swirling within Levi.
"If you begin to regret," Erwin continued, his voice steady and firm, "you’ll dull your future decisions and let others make choices for you." He paused, his eyes flicking towards (Y/n), who stood nearby, her face still pale with grief.
"All that’s left for you then is to die."
"Nobody can foretell the outcome. Each decision you make only gains meaning through the choices that follow," Erwin spoke, his gaze piercing and resolute. There was a weight in his words, an unspoken acknowledgment of the unforgiving world they lived in. He turned to his team, his voice firm as he commanded, "We're continuing the mission. I expect you both to come with me."
He mounted his horse with practiced ease, the determination in his every movement undeniable. (Y/n) hesitated for just a moment, glancing back at Levi. Her once innocent eyes, now hardened by the cruel reality they had endured, lingered on him. A silent understanding passed between them—a shared burden, a mutual grief. Then, with a final nod, she climbed onto her horse, steeling herself for what lay ahead.
As she rode off with Erwin, Levi watched her go, the weight of their losses pressing down on him. In her eyes, he saw the same resolve that now fueled him—a commitment to continue the fight, no matter the cost.
Years had passed since the loss of their friends, and now Levi’s squad was back in the forest, meticulously scouring the area for any sign of their missing comrades. The dense foliage and shadowed depths, once a backdrop to their grief and loss, had become a place of wary searching and lingering hope.
Levi led the search with his usual precision, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of remains or clues. The silence of the forest was occasionally broken by the distant groans of Titans and the sound of ODM gear slicing through the air. Despite the apparent calm, a palpable unease lingered among his squad. The doubt and despair were visible in their expressions; they feared the worst—that the missing squad had been devoured by Titans, their remains long since consumed and erased from existence.
Yet Levi’s thoughts were elsewhere. He refused to believe that Y/n was gone. The girl he had once protected in the alleyway, now a seasoned soldier and leader of her own squad, had become stronger than he had ever imagined. Her evolution from a frightened child to a formidable woman was nothing short of extraordinary. She had surpassed his expectations, growing into someone who no longer needed his protection, someone who had proven herself countless times in the face of unimaginable horrors.
The squad moved with a mix of hope and resignation, each member trying to come to terms with the possibility that their search might be in vain. Levi’s own heart was heavy with the weight of his memories and the stark reality of their situation. He knew Y/n’s resilience, her drive to survive, and he refused to let that hope die.
Levi paused, his gaze shifting to a clearing where the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the ground. The scene was reminiscent of a moment he had cherished from the past—a rare, peaceful respite amidst the chaos of their world. It wasn’t foreign to him to find solace in such a spot, especially after grueling training sessions with (Y/n).
"Levi?”
He turned to see Y/n standing at the edge of the clearing, her presence like a beacon amidst the shadows.
“You’re here,” Levi said, his voice a mix of relief and disbelief. “I didn’t think...”
Y/n stepped closer to him, her expression softening as she took in the sight of the clearing. “I didn’t think I’d ever see this place again,” she said quietly. “Not like this.”
Levi’s gaze was steady, though his eyes betrayed a hint of the storm of emotions within. “You’ve changed a lot since then,” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of admiration. “You’ve become stronger than I ever imagined.”
Y/n smiled, a touch of sadness mingling with the warmth in her eyes. "I'm glad"
“I remember the first time we were here together,” Levi said, his voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. “The sun was setting just like this.”
Y/n’s smile grew as she absorbed the memory, her eyes reflecting the golden light. “Yeah, I remember. It felt like the world was giving us a break from all the darkness.”
Levi’s eyes remained fixed on the clearing, the light filtering through the trees serving as a gentle reminder of their past. “That day, after we lost Farlan and Isabel, I was grateful Erwin took you with him. I wasn’t sure how to face that loss if it weren't for you, you made me believe in the possibility of moving forward.”
Y/n looked at Levi with a hint of amusement in her eyes. His unusually reflective demeanor caught her off guard. “You’re being quite talkative today, Captain,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing note. “What’s the occasion?”
Levi’s lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile one that he never shares with anyone else, other than her. He glanced away momentarily, his gaze wandering over the familiar landscape, as though trying to gather the right words. “I suppose I’m just feeling… reflective,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Seeing this place again, it brings back so many memories.”
Levi's gaze remained fixed on Y/n’s (e/c) eyes, his own filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely allowed to surface. The weight of his feelings was palpable, and for a moment, the noise of the world outside the clearing seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the connection between them, forged through shared struggles and unwavering trust.
Y/n, sensing the intensity of his gaze, held his stare. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from fear, but from a profound sense of connection and understanding. The golden light of the setting sun bathed them in a soft glow, making the moment feel almost ethereal.
“Levi,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with anticipation.
Levi’s breath hitched. He could feel the pull of his emotions, the long-buried feelings that he had tried so hard to keep in check. The fear of losing her, of seeing her hurt, was a constant shadow that loomed over every decision he made. He knew that if he allowed himself to fully embrace his feelings, he would be laying bare a part of himself that he had guarded closely for so long.
“Y/n,” he began, his voice a low murmur, **“I—”
Before he could finish, he found himself moving closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. The touch was tender, and it seemed to communicate everything that words could not. He wanted to be close to her, to bridge the distance that had always been there despite their shared history.
Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a sigh escaping her lips. She leaned into his hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of his emotions. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a mixture of longing and understanding.
“Levi,” she said softly, “it’s okay. You don’t have to hold back. We’ve faced so much together. We know the risks, and we know the cost. But that doesn’t mean we can’t cherish what we have, right now.”
Levi’s heart ached with the weight of his indecision. He wanted to kiss her, to let her know just how much she meant to him, but the fear of what might happen if he lost her was almost too much to bear. He could imagine the heartbreak if something were to happen to her, and he didn’t want her to think that his affection was a fleeting thing.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said finally, his voice a strained whisper. “I don’t want you to think that my feelings are just a reaction to the situation. I…”
Y/n reached up, placing her hand over his. “Levi, no matter what happens, we can’t live our lives in fear. We’ve always faced things head-on. And we’ve always had each other. Isn’t that worth something?”
Her words seemed to cut through the fog of his hesitation. Levi’s resolve wavered as he looked into her eyes, seeing the sincerity and depth of her feelings reflected back at him. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was gentle and full of unspoken emotion.
The kiss was a balm to the wounds they both carried, a moment of peace amidst the turmoil. When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Levi’s eyes were soft with a mixture of relief and tenderness.
“Captain Levi,” one of his squad members called out, breaking his reverie. “We’ve found something.” There was a hint of uncertainty in their voice, but also a glimmer of hope.
Levi approached the area where the squad member stood. His eyes fell upon a piece of discarded equipment—a well-worn, familiar object that unmistakably belonged to Y/n. It was a small, but significant sign that they had once been there, that they had fought and survived in this very place.
The discovery reignited a spark of hope within him. Levi felt a surge of determination, a renewed belief that Y/n, and her squad, were still alive. He knew she was capable of enduring, of fighting through the worst.
As they reached the clearing, the evidence of a recent skirmish became undeniable. Broken blades, shattered equipment, and blood—too much blood—painted a grim picture. But there were no bodies, no sign of the squad they were searching for.
The squad members exchanged uneasy glances, their doubts growing with each passing moment. The scene before them was one they had witnessed countless times before, yet it never became easier. The reality of their world was one where comrades often disappeared without a trace, leaving only questions and the heavy burden of guilt.
Levi knelt beside a broken blade, his fingers brushing over the jagged edge. The metal was still cold, a stark reminder of the fragility of life in the face of the Titans. His mind raced, piecing together the clues left behind. The direction of the cuts, the splatter of blood—it all told a story, one he was determined to understand.
"Captain," Petra spoke again, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you think... they could have been taken by the Titans? There’s no sign of them here."
Levi didn’t respond immediately. His eyes scanned the clearing, looking for something—anything—that could give him a lead. The squad’s fear was palpable, but he couldn’t afford to let it cloud his judgment. He couldn’t let them lose hope, not when he knew she was out there, somewhere.
"They fought," Levi finally said, his voice low but steady. "They put up a fight, and there are no corpses."
The squad exchanged uncertain glances, but Levi’s confidence was unwavering. He could feel it in his bones—the connection that had always existed between him and (Y/n) was still there, a thin thread that tied them together across the years and the miles. She was alive, and he would find her.
"We keep moving," Levi ordered, rising to his feet. "Stay alert and watch for any signs. We’re not leaving this forest until we find them."
The squad members nodded, their resolve strengthened by his determination. They knew better than to question their captain’s instincts, especially when it came to matters as personal as this.
Levi led them deeper into the forest, his senses on high alert. Every sound, every movement caught his attention, his mind working tirelessly to unravel the mystery of what had happened to (Y/n) and her squad. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor, but Levi pressed on, undeterred by the gathering darkness.
"Captain!" Gunther's voice called out from ahead, breaking through his thoughts. Levi’s attention snapped back to the present as he moved toward the sound.
Levi followed Gunther’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure perched high in the branches of a large tree. The person was lying motionless, partially obscured by the dense foliage. Levi's heart raced. It could be anyone—friend or foe, alive or dead—but the sight was enough to send a jolt of hope through him.
"Petra, Auruo, check for any signs of life and secure the area," Levi instructed, his voice sharp and commanding. "Gunther, keep an eye on the surroundings. We don’t want any surprises."
The squad members moved quickly, Petra and Auruo scaling the tree with practiced efficiency while Levi and Gunther kept watch. As Petra reached the branch where the figure lay, she carefully examined them, her expression focused and concerned.
"It's (Y/n)," Petra called down, her voice filled with both relief and concern. "She's alive, but she's in bad shape."
Levi's heart skipped a beat. The news was both a blessing and a challenge. He glanced at Gunther, who nodded, signaling that the perimeter was secure for now. Levi climbed the tree with swift, agile movements, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry.
Reaching the branch, Levi knelt beside (Y/n). Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, but there was a faint, reassuring warmth to her skin. He gently checked her pulse, relieved to find it steady, though weak.
"(Y/n)," Levi said softly, his voice barely a whisper as he touched her shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
For a moment, there was no response. Levi’s heart tightened with concern. He could see the exhaustion etched into her features, the toll that time and hardship had taken on her. Then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open. They were cloudy and disoriented, but there was a glimmer of recognition as they met his gaze.
(Y/n)’s eyes struggled to focus as she looked up at Levi. Her face was a mixture of relief and confusion, her strength clearly ebbing away. She tried to prop herself up, her movements weak and unsteady.
“Levi,” she croaked, her voice hoarse. “My team… where are they? Did you find them?”
Levi’s expression hardened slightly, the weight of the news he had to deliver evident in his eyes. He took a deep breath, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. “We haven’t found anyone else yet. We’re still searching, but… there’s been no sign of the rest of your squad so far.”
The hope in (Y/n)’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a shadow of despair. She slumped back against the ground, her gaze turning towards the forest canopy, as if searching for an answer in the shifting leaves. “They’re… they’re gone, aren’t they?”
Levi could see the pain etched into her face, the struggle to come to terms with the potential loss of her comrades. He knelt beside her, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could. “We’re not giving up. We’ll keep looking, and we’ll bring them back if we can.”
(Y/n) closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back tears. The silence of the forest seemed to press in on her, heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and unspoken fears. Levi’s presence was a small solace, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this moment of grief.
Levi’s gaze remained steady as he looked down at (Y/n). He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the pain that she tried to mask with her strength. He knew that time was of the essence. “Petra, Auruo,” he called out, his voice carrying the edge of urgency. “We need to split up and search the surrounding area for any signs of the rest of her squad. Be thorough, and stay sharp.”
Petra and Auruo nodded, immediately setting off in different directions, their ODM gear making them disappear into the trees with swift precision. Levi turned back to (Y/n), his expression softening as he carefully lifted her from the branch.
“Hold on,” Levi said gently, though his voice was firm. He cradled her in his arms, her weight light but her presence heavy with the burden of worry. “We’re heading back to HQ. We need to get you checked out.”
(Y/n) didn’t protest. She leaned into his embrace, her body trembling slightly from both fatigue and emotional strain. Levi activated his ODM gear, and they soared into the air, cutting through the dense forest canopy with practiced ease. The wind rushed past them, the familiar sensation of flight contrasting sharply with the gravity of their situation.
As they flew, Levi kept his focus on their path, but his thoughts were consumed by (Y/n). He had been searching for her for so long, and now that he had found her, the relief was tinged with worry. He glanced down at her occasionally, making sure she was secure in his arms.
“I thought... I thought I’d lost you for good.” Levi said, his voice softer than usual, a slight tremble in his voice. "Thought you left me all alone."
(Y/n) managed a weak smile, her eyes meeting his. The journey through the trees seemed endless, but Levi’s presence was a source of comfort. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly as it touched his cheek. The contact was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were trying to reassure herself that he was really there.
“I... I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears, long held back, finally escaped her eyes and traced down her cheeks. They fell softly onto Levi’s face, the touch like a caress against his skin.
His arms tightened around her, cradling her more securely against him. “I’m here. I won’t let go. I’ll always come find you, no matter what.”
(Y/n) closed her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle, reassuring presence of Levi seep into her. The words were like a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing the raw edges of her fear. She could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat, a grounding counterpoint to the turbulence that had marked her recent days.
Levi’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. He felt a deep, almost unbearable ache in his chest, a mixture of relief and profound affection. He leaned in, his lips brushing the top of her head with a tenderness that was rarely seen from him.
“I love you so much,” he murmured softly, the words barely more than a whisper but filled with sincerity and depth. The kiss was a fleeting but profound gesture, a declaration of feelings that he had held close for far too long. It was a promise, a reassurance that even in the darkest times, there was someone who would always be there, unyielding and steadfast.
(Y/n) felt the warmth of his kiss and the depth of his words, a solace in the midst of her turmoil. The tears that had escaped now mingled with a faint smile, a small, hopeful sign amid the storm of emotions. She pressed closer to him, her heart echoing the sentiment he had expressed.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a trembling echo of the gratitude and affection she felt. “I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to hear that again.”
Levi’s response was a quiet, resolute nod. His expression remained firm, but his eyes held a depth of emotion that he rarely showed. As they soared through the forest, the world around them seemed to blur into insignificance compared to the quiet strength of their connection.
They continued their flight, the wind a steady companion to their journey. Levi’s focus remained on navigating through the forest with the utmost care, but his thoughts were intertwined with the girl in his arms. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but with (Y/n) by his side again, he felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination.
As Levi and (Y/n) neared the base, the faint lights of the outpost illuminated their path. The once-dense forest began to give way to open space, the familiar sight of the base offering a beacon of hope in the twilight. Levi’s heart pounded with a mix of urgency and relief as they approached.
The base’s medics, already alerted by the commotion, rushed forward to meet them. Their faces were set in professional concern as they took in the sight of (Y/n) in Levi’s arms. With practiced efficiency, they carefully helped him lower her to the ground.
“Captain Levi, we’ll take it from here,” one of the medics said, her voice brisk but compassionate. “Please step aside so we can attend to her injuries.”
Levi nodded, his hands lingering for a moment on (Y/n)’s shoulders. “Be careful with her. She’s been through a lot.”
(Y/n) looked up at Levi, her eyes tired but filled with a profound sense of gratitude. “Levi… Thank you. For everything.”
Levi’s eyes met hers, his expression a mix of determination and tenderness. “I promised I’d find you,” he said softly. “And I’ll keep that promise. I’ll find the others.”
With one last, lingering look, Levi stepped back, allowing the medics to take over. He watched as they moved swiftly, attending to (Y/n)’s wounds and making sure she was stable.
With a deep breath, Levi tore his gaze away and turned towards the door leading out of the base. The night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the coolness a sharp but invigorating contrast to the warmth inside. His mind was already racing, analyzing the reports and plans as he prepared himself for the search ahead.
Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, Levi felt a rare sense of safety and calm. The knowledge that (Y/n) was safe and being cared for provided a solid foundation for his own resolve. He was no longer fighting alone; he had something to protect, a reason to push through the night and face the dangers of the world
Synopsis: Years after her family's trauma, lawyer (Y/n) Todoroki visits her ailing mother with Fuyumi. On her way home, she is attacked by a villain but is saved by Hawks, the No. 2 hero.
Years had passed since that fateful evening, and (Y/n) Todoroki had carved out a life for herself that was distinctly separate from the oppressive shadows of her family's tumultuous past. Now a formidable lawyer dedicated to putting villains behind bars, she had vowed never to follow in her father's footsteps, choosing instead to pursue justice through the law. Her fiery red hair, now a striking cascade of waves, blazed like a beacon, drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever she went. Her turquoise eyes, once innocent and wide, had hardened into mirrors of steely resolve, each glance reflecting a spirit that had been tempered by years of struggle and unwavering determination.
Though she had distanced herself from her father and his overbearing presence, (Y/n) had remained deeply connected with Fuyumi and Natsuo. The three siblings had woven an unbreakable bond from the threads of their shared pain, each thread a testament to their resilience and their collective desire to forge a brighter, kinder future. Together, they had become each other's sanctuary, a living proof that even in the darkest of times, family could be a source of strength and hope.
However, her relationship with Shoto was a different story. Strained and brittle, it bore the scars of their father's relentless and unforgiving training regime, a regime that had left little room for the nurturing of familial bonds. While she admired Shoto's strength and resolve, the emotional distance between them was a chasm she longed to bridge. Each interaction was tinged with the unspoken weight of their shared history, and despite her efforts, the ghost of their father's influence still loomed large, casting a shadow over their attempts to reconnect.
One brisk autumn afternoon, (Y/n) sat in her office, the golden hues of the setting sun casting a warm glow through the window. She was deep in thought, her brows furrowed in concentration as she reviewed a particularly challenging case file. It was about a civilian who had accidentally activated his quirk, resulting in injuries to several bystanders. His claim of not being able to control it seemed genuine, yet the incident's severity demanded careful scrutiny.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the intense silence of the room. She glanced at the screen and saw Fuyumi's name flashing. A small smile tugged at her lips despite the gravity of her work. She picked up the phone, and before Fuyumi even spoke, she could sense the soft, comforting tone in her sister's voice.
"Hey, Fuyumi," (Y/n) greeted, her voice tinged with warmth and a hint of relief.
“(Y/n), how are you doing?” Fuyumi began, her tone genuine and carrying a hint of happiness at the chance to talk to her older sister.
"I'm good. How are you?" (Y/n) replied, slowly putting down the case papers she had been engrossed in. She turned to gaze out the window, her eyes tracing the familiar skyline of the city.
“I just left work and I'm heading to the hospital to see Mom. Do you want to come with me?”
(Y/n) felt a pang of anxiety twist in her chest. Visits to their mother were always fraught with complex emotions. While Fuyumi and Natsuo seemed to find solace in these visits, (Y/n) harbored conflicted feelings. Touya's words echoed in her mind: "Our family is broken. Dad's a monster, and Mom... she's just as responsible for our fate as he is. We were deemed failures from the start." Yet, there was something in Fuyumi’s voice today that felt different, almost hopeful.
“I’ll be there,” she said firmly, pushing aside her doubts.
“Great,” Fuyumi replied, a note of relief in her voice. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
As the call ended, (Y/n) leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting back to the city skyline. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the buildings and painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange and pink. It reminded her of the countless sunsets she had watched with her siblings, each one a fleeting moment of peace amidst their turbulent lives. They had dreamed of a future where they could escape their father's crushing expectations and their mother's overwhelming despair.
With a deep breath, (Y/n) stood up, feeling the weight of those dreams and the hope that maybe, just maybe, this visit could be different.
(Y/n) walked through the hospital’s sliding doors, immediately enveloped by the sterile scent of antiseptics and the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and distant conversations. She spotted Fuyumi standing near the lobby's large windows, her expression transforming from weary vigilance to jolly relief as she saw (Y/n) approach.
“Hey,” (Y/n) greeted her softly, pulling her sister into a tight, comforting embrace. “How’s she doing?”
Fuyumi’s face brightened, her grey eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and lingering apprehension. “The doctors say she’s having a good day,” she replied, her voice a soothing balm to (Y/n)'s frayed nerves. “She’s been more and more relaxed.”
(Y/n)’s heart clenched at the news, a tumultuous swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath, striving to steady herself. “That’s wonderful to hear,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying the storm within. “Let’s go see her.”
Together, the sisters walked down the familiar corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. Each step was a journey through the labyrinth of their shared history, filled with memories and unspoken fears, but also with an unyielding bond of love and resilience.
Rei Todoroki lay in the bed, her once vibrant eyes now dulled by years of pain and medication. The sterile white room, with its muted colors and the beeping of medical equipment, seemed to amplify the contrast between her past vitality and her present frailty. Yet, as her gaze fell upon her daughters, a flicker of recognition and warmth ignited within her eyes.
“Mom,” (Y/n) said softly, approaching the bedside with a mixture of trepidation and hope. “We’re here.”
Rei’s eyes welled with tears, the delicate shimmer betraying the flood of emotions she had long kept at bay. Her hand, though trembling with age and weariness, reached out to grasp (Y/n)’s with a tenderness that spoke of deep, unspoken regret and longing. “My girls,” she whispered, her voice a raspy echo of what it once was. “I’m so glad you came.”
Fuyumi, with her own heart a mosaic of sorrow and solace, pulled a chair close and settled beside their mother. Her expression was a portrait of quiet resolve and tender affection. “Mom, how are you feeling today?” she asked, her voice soothing and filled with genuine concern.
Rei’s frail lips curved into a smile, a gesture that seemed to light up the room despite her physical frailty. “I’m great now that you’re both here,” she said softly, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that transcended her physical state. She held both their hands, her touch a fragile bridge connecting the past and the present, the hurt and the healing.
As the three of them settled into the quiet of the hospital room, the warmth of their reunion began to soften the edges of their unspoken tensions. Fuyumi, always the gentle mediator, took the lead in filling the room with a sense of comfort and normalcy. She chatted with their mother about her work and recent experiences as a school teacher, her voice a soothing thread in the delicate fabric of their conversation.
Rei’s eyes softened as she listened, a smile tugging at her lips. “That sounds wonderful, Fuyumi. I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice filled with a warmth that seemed to defy her frail state. “You’ve always had such a big heart.”
Fuyumi’s smile widened, and she looked over at (Y/n) with a glimmer of mischief. “And what about you, (Y/n)? How’s the legal world treating you?”
(Y/n) nodded, her own smile touched with a hint of pride. “It’s challenging, but rewarding,” she replied, her voice steady and composed.
Rei’s eyes, though dimmed by the years, lit up with genuine interest. “You’ve always been so driven, (Y/n). It sounds like you’re making a real impact.”
As the conversation continued, (Y/n) observed the interactions between her mother and sister with a sense of detachment. Despite the outward calm she maintained, a storm of emotions brewed beneath her composed exterior. She had never felt particularly close to her parents, and her relationship with them remained strained by the weight of their past. The scars of her upbringing lingered, and while she wore a facade of serenity, it masked the turmoil she felt inside.
(Y/n) turned her gaze to the window, watching the last rays of sunlight dance across the city skyline. She thought about the countless times she had tried to bridge the gaps within her family, only to find herself on the fringes of their emotional landscape. The distance between them was not just physical but emotional, forged in the fires of their shared history and the painful legacies of their upbringing.
Rei’s gaze shifted from Fuyumi to (Y/n) with a soft, inquisitive look. Despite her frail state, there was a genuine curiosity in her eyes. “So, my dears,” she began, her voice tender, “how are your brothers doing? I haven’t heard much from them lately.”
Fuyumi’s face brightened with a playful glimmer in her eyes. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial tone. “Well, Mom, Natsuo has been quite busy lately. In fact, I think he might have a girlfriend.”
(Y/n)’s eyes widened with mock surprise, and she let out a soft, amused giggle. “Really now? That’s news to me!" Fuyumi chuckled, a mischievous sparkle dancing in her eyes. “He’s definitely been spending a lot of time away from home. You know how secretive he is about those things"
(Y/n) laughed softly, her earlier tension easing with the light-hearted exchange. “Ah, Natsuo. He’s always been so serious about his studies, so it’s nice to hear he’s got a bit of romance in his life. I remember how he used to turn red whenever I’d tease him about his crushes."
Rei’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and she managed a weak but genuine smile. “It sounds like he’s growing up and finding his own way. I’m glad to hear he’s happy. And what about Shoto? How is he?”
The mention of Shoto brought a subtle shift in (Y/n)’s demeanor. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. “Shoto is... well, he’s still the same as ever. Dedicated to his hero work study and determined as always. We haven’t had much chance to catch up recently, but I know he’s been keeping busy.”
Fuyumi nodded in agreement. “He’s been doing great with his hero duties. He’s always been so committed to his role, and while he doesn’t always show it, I think he’s finding a way to balance his hero work and personal life.”
Rei’s face softened with understanding, though a shadow of concern lingered in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well, even if it’s from a distance. I know he’s had a lot to carry on his shoulders.”
(Y/n) looked at her mother, feeling the weight of her words. “Yes, he does. We’ve all had our own struggles, but we’re managing. We’re a bit of a patchwork family, but we’re making it work.”
The conversation drifted into lighter topics, the sisters sharing anecdotes about their daily lives and their moments of respite amidst their responsibilities. For a brief time, the room felt filled with the echoes of laughter and shared memories, a small island of peace in the sea of their complex emotions.
The hospital room was bathed in the soft hum of the night, a serene lull enveloping the space as Fuyumi and (Y/n) prepared to part ways. The air seemed to hold its breath as Fuyumi, with deliberate and tender movements, leaned in to press a gentle kiss to their mother’s cheek. Her touch was light, but it carried the weight of a promise.
“I’ll visit again soon, Mom,” she whispered, her voice a soothing balm that spoke of unwavering love and commitment.
(Y/n) followed, her heart heavy with the sorrow of impending goodbyes. She brushed a stray strand of hair from their mother’s face, her fingers lingering in a gesture of affectionate farewell. “Take care, Mom. We’ll see you soon,” she murmured, her voice trembling with the ache of her emotions.
With their farewells spoken, the sisters turned away reluctantly, the dim glow of the hallway lights casting a gentle, melancholic hue over their retreating forms. As they walked together towards the hospital’s entrance, the silence between them was a canvas of quiet reflection, each lost in their own reverie.
Fuyumi was the first to break the silence, her voice soft and contemplative as they reached the lobby. “I’m glad we came,” she said, her words carrying a sense of relief and solace. “It felt good to see Mom a little more at ease.”
(Y/n) nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and hope. She managed a faint, reassuring smile. “Me too. It’s a start, at least.”
They embraced once more, the hug a silent exchange of comfort and shared grief, before parting ways. Fuyumi headed towards their family home, the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot marking her departure. (Y/n) began her walk home, the autumn air crisp and invigorating, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and the subtle promise of change.
As she meandered down the quiet, dimly lit streets, her mind meandered through the day’s fleeting moments of connection with her mother. Each step felt like a movement through a fragile tapestry of emotions, woven with threads of hope and melancholy. The autumn breeze whispered through the trees, echoing the complex blend of uplift and unease that lingered in her heart.
ost in thought, she was suddenly jolted from her reverie by a rough hand gripping her shoulder. Before she could react, she was forcefully shoved against the wall of a narrow alleyway, the harsh impact knocking the breath from her lungs. Her heart raced as she looked up, her turquoise eyes meeting the cold, calculating gaze of a masked figure.
“Give me your bag,” the masked villain growled, his voice muffled and menacing. The glint of a weapon—perhaps a knife—caught the dim streetlight, adding a tangible edge to his threat.
Instinctively, (Y/n)’s hands moved to protect her belongings, but she remained calm, her mind racing even as her body was pushed to the brink of fear. She could feel the weight of the villain’s threat, but she was also acutely aware of the city’s quiet hum just beyond the alley—a reminder that help could be near if she could buy time.
“Alright, alright,” (Y/n) said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “Just—let me get it for you.”
With careful movements, she reached for her bag, her fingers brushing against the strap as she slowly unfastened it. She tried to keep her movements deliberate and non-threatening, hoping to avoid any sudden actions that might escalate the situation.
The villain’s eyes were locked on her, his grip on her shoulder firm and unyielding. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”
As (Y/n) fumbled with the strap of her bag, her mind raced, each heartbeat echoing with fear and the desperate hope for a way out. The villain's menacing presence loomed over her, the blade’s glint a harsh reminder of the danger she faced. Her breathing was shallow, and despite her attempts to remain composed, her hands trembled.
The alleyway felt increasingly claustrophobic, the walls closing in as the villain's impatient growl echoed in the narrow space. Every second felt like an eternity, her anxiety mounting with each passing moment.
Suddenly, a red flash streaked past her peripheral vision. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, a powerful force surged forward, shoving the villain away from her with an explosive impact. The masked figure was flung against the opposite wall, his weapon clattering to the ground.
Instinctively, (Y/n) ducked, her heart pounding as she turned her gaze toward the source of the intervention. As the dust settled, she saw a striking figure standing between her and the disoriented villain. Crimson wings, like fiery plumes of a phoenix, flared out dramatically behind him, their brilliance casting a warm, protective light. The man’s blonde hair, tousled and wind-tousled, glowed under the streetlights, making him unmistakably recognizable.
I don't mean this in a hateful way, but if you title your post with 'x reader' and give the female character a name and predetermined identity, it's more of a canon x oc and it's probably best to title as such.
Thanks for the advice, I really appreciate it! I thought using just the family name would still fit the 'x reader' category, but I get where you're coming from. I can change it to 'x Todoroki reader'. Again thank you ❤️
Synopsis: (Y/n) Todoroki grapples with familial expectations, trauma, and the burden of her Quirk amidst a backdrop of simmering tensions and dark secrets within the Todoroki estate. As tragedy strikes, (Y/n) must navigate a world of abuse and fractured relationships, seeking redemption and protecting her siblings while confronting the legacy of her family's past
As the vibrant colors of the setting sun painted the sky, (Y/n) Todoroki stood on the edge of the family estate, her fiery red hair catching the last rays of light. Her turquoise eyes, a mirror to the blazing sky, held a turmoil of emotions beneath their surface. The weight of expectations, both familial and self-imposed, bore down on her slender frame, casting shadows across her thoughts.
She sighed, her breath mingling with the evening breeze that whispered through the trees, carrying with it an ominous premonition. The estate, once a symbol of prestige and power, now seemed to loom over her like a silent sentinel, echoing the secrets and struggles hidden within its walls.
Her gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers across the manicured gardens. It was in moments like these that (Y/n) found solace, a fleeting escape from the tumultuous world she inhabited.
But even amidst the tranquil beauty of the fading day, her mind churned with worries. The burden of her Quirk, inherited from her father, weighed heavily upon her. Like her brother Touya, she possessed flames that danced with an intensity that threatened to consume them both from within. Unlike Touya, however, her body could control it better than him, but the scars on her body were stark reminders of her limitations and failures.
"(Y/n)?"
The voice, gentle yet tinged with concern, broke through her reverie, pulling her back to the present. Turning, she saw her youngest brother Shoto, his mismatched eyes reflecting the fading light.
"Shoto," she murmured, offering him a faint smile. Despite the years that separated them, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond forged in the fires of their shared struggles.
"What are you doing out here?" She asked, her voice soft with curiosity
"I... I just wanted to check on you. Father's been in a foul mood all day, and I heard him mention your name in his study."
Her heart clenched at the mention of their father. Endeavor's presence loomed large over their lives, his expectations crushing and his temper volatile. She knew all too well the consequences of angering him, especially in light of Touya's rebellion.
"We shouldn't be out here together," she said urgently, her hand reaching out to grasp his arm. "Quickly, before he sees us."
With a heavy heart, (Y/n) watched as Shoto nodded in silent agreement, his eyes betraying a mixture of fear and determination. Together, they slipped back into the shadows, the evening breeze carrying with it the weight of their shared apprehension.
As they reached the shelter of the estate's grand entrance, (Y/n) spared a fleeting glance toward the training grounds where Touya used to hone his fiery abilities. His once vibrant red hair now bleached to a pale white, a stark contrast to the flames that danced under his control.
"I know what I'm doing, (Y/n)," he had insisted, his voice tinged with stubborn resolve. "I won't stop until Father sees that we're not failures."
Her heart ached with concern for her brother, knowing all too well the risks he took in his pursuit to prove himself. "But Touya, you will hurt yourself," she had pleaded, her voice trembling with worry.
But Touya's determination burned brighter than the flames he wielded, his resolve unyielding in the face of their father's relentless expectations.
Shaking her head, (Y/n) pushed aside her concerns for Touya, knowing there was little she could do to dissuade him from his path. Instead, she focused on guiding Shoto safely inside, the heavy wooden doors closing behind them with a soft thud.
Inside the estate, the air was thick with tension, a stark reminder of the conflicts that simmered beneath the surface of their seemingly tranquil home. (Y/n) cast a worried glance at Shoto, his expression a mirror of her own apprehension.
"Stay safe, Shoto," (Y/n) whispered, ruffling Shoto's hair affectionately and squeezing his small hand before releasing it. Shoto nodded solemnly, his gaze meeting hers with a silent vow before they parted ways, each retreating to their respective quarters to face the challenges that awaited them within the walls of their troubled home.
Pushing open the door, she was greeted by the familiar sight of Fuyumi sitting at her desk, her expression a mask of quiet concern. "(Y/n)," Fuyumi said softly, rising from her seat as she approached. "Are you alright? You seem troubled."
(Y/n) offered her sister a weary smile, grateful for her presence amidst the chaos of their lives. "I'm fine, Fuyumi. Just... tired."
As (Y/n) attempted to reassure Fuyumi, their mother, Rei Todoroki, quietly entered the room, her presence casting a somber shadow over the already tense atmosphere. Her eyes, filled with unspoken worry, scanned the room before settling on (Y/n), searching for answers in the depths of her daughter's turquoise gaze.
"(Y/n), where's Touya?" Rei's voice quivered with concern, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides as she awaited a response.
A heavy silence descended upon the room as (Y/n) struggled to find the words to ease her mother's fears. The truth hung heavy in the air, unspoken yet palpable in the strained tension that gripped them all.
Unable to meet her mother's gaze, (Y/n) lowered her eyes, the weight of guilt settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. The lack of response spoke volumes, conveying more than words ever could.
Rei's breath caught in her throat, her features contorted with a mixture of anguish and despair. With a dazed look, she stumbled backward, her hand reaching out to grasp the door frame for support as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
Without a word, Rei turned and fled from the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she made her way to the kitchen, seeking solace in the familiarity of routine amidst the chaos that threatened to consume them all.
(Y/n) stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest as her mother's words echoed through the corridor. The weight of Rei's despair crashed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless and reeling.
"Fuyumi," (Y/n) whispered, turning to her sister with wide, shocked eyes. "I need to check on Mom. Stay here."
Fuyumi nodded, her expression mirroring (Y/n)'s worry and confusion. With a deep breath, (Y/n) steeled herself and quietly made her way toward the kitchen, her footsteps barely making a sound on the polished wooden floors.
As she approached the kitchen, Rei's voice grew clearer, the anguish in her tone cutting through (Y/n)'s heart like a knife.
"Mom... I know it's not right, but I can't do it anymore. The children, they're... like him more and more every day. Touya, (Y/n), and Shoto... his left side. Sometimes I look at him and hate what I see. I... can't raise him anymore. I shouldn't raise him..."
(Y/n)'s breath hitched, her mind struggling to process the enormity of her mother's confession. The implications of Rei's words were staggering, each one a dagger to (Y/n)'s soul.
(Y/n) stood frozen in the doorway, her heart pounding in her chest as the weight of her mother's words crashed over her. The sound of the boiling kettle seemed to grow louder, a piercing whistle that underscored the tension and anguish filling the room. She barely registered the soft, hesitant voice from behind her until it was too late.
"Mom?"
Shoto's small voice broke through the haze of confusion and shock, drawing (Y/n)'s attention to her youngest brother standing in the doorway. His mismatched eyes, wide with innocent curiosity, held none of the turmoil that plagued the rest of the family.
Rei turned abruptly, her eyes wild with panic. Her gaze locked onto Shoto's left side, the side that mirrored his father's Quirk. In a moment of sheer, unthinking terror, she grabbed the kettle from the stove and threw it toward Shoto, the scalding water arcing through the air.
Time seemed to slow as (Y/n) sprang into action, her own fear and adrenaline propelling her forward. "Shoto!" she screamed, but she was too late.
The boiling water hit Shoto's left side, eliciting a heart-wrenching cry of pain from the young boy. Rei's eyes widened in horror as the reality of her actions sank in, her hands flying to her mouth in a gesture of pure regret and disbelief.
"No! Shoto, no!" Rei cried, rushing toward her son, but (Y/n) reached him first, pulling him close and shielding him from any further harm. Shoto sobbed against her, his small frame trembling with the shock and pain of the burn.
"(Y/n), I... I didn't mean to... I..." Rei's voice broke, her body shaking with the force of her own emotions. She looked lost, broken, the weight of her guilt and despair pulling her down.
(Y/n) stared at the scene before her, her mind barely able to process the horror of what had just happened. Her mother's trembling form, Shoto's pained cries, and the scalding water pooling on the kitchen floor all melded into a surreal nightmare.
"We need help!" (Y/n) finally screamed, her voice cracking with panic. "Someone, please! We need to get Shoto to the hospital!"
The urgency in her voice jolted the household into action. Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway, and within moments, Enji Todoroki, their father, burst into the kitchen, his face a mask of shock and fury. Fuyumi and Natsuo followed closely behind, their expressions mirroring their father's as they took in the scene.
"What happened here?" Enji demanded, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down (Y/n)'s spine.
Rei, still frozen in place, could only sob and shake her head, unable to form coherent words. Enji's eyes blazed with anger as he took in Shoto's injured form.
"Rei, what did you do?" he roared, but (Y/n) stepped between them, her protective instincts kicking in.
"Dad, we need to get Shoto to the hospital now!" she insisted, her voice fierce despite the tears streaming down her face.
Enji's gaze shifted to (Y/n), the anger in his eyes replaced by a steely determination. He nodded curtly. "Fuyumi, Natsuo, stay with your mother. (Y/n), you're in charge here. I'll take Shoto to the hospital."
(Y/n) nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched her father carry Shoto out of the kitchen and toward the front door. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.
Turning to her mother, who remained rooted in place, (Y/n) approached cautiously, her voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of urgency. "Mom, you need to sit down. Please. Fuyumi, Natsuo, stay with Mom. Make sure she doesn't hurt herself. I'll find Touya and tell him what happened."
Natsuo nodded, his expression grim. "Be careful, (Y/n). Touya's been... unpredictable lately." "I know," (Y/n) replied, her voice determined.
Breathless and with her heart pounding in her chest, (Y/n) raced through the estate grounds, her mind consumed by the urgency of the situation. The fading light of the setting sun cast long shadows across her path as she made her way toward Sekoto Peak, where Touya often went to be alone with his thoughts.
Finally reaching the peak, she spotted Touya standing at the edge, his silhouette outlined against the darkening sky. Panting, she approached him cautiously, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Touya," she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Touya turned to face her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "What do you want, (Y/n)?" he asked, his tone distant.
"It's Shoto," she began, her voice catching in her throat. "Mom... she threw boiling water at him. Dad took him to the hospital."
Touya's reaction was not what she had expected. His expression remained indifferent, almost cold, as he shrugged. "And?"
The indifference in his voice cut through her like a knife, leaving her stunned and hurt. "Touya, how can you be so heartless? Shoto's hurt, and Mom... she's not herself. We need to do something!"
Touya's gaze hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. "What do you expect me to do, (Y/n)? Our family is broken. Dad's a monster, and Mom... she's just as responsible for our fate as he is. We were deemed failures from the start."
Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes as she listened to her brother's harsh words. She had always known that Touya harbored resentment toward their parents, but hearing him speak with such indifference shattered her heart.
"Touya, Mom said something on the phone," she said, her voice trembling. "She said she couldn't raise us anymore. That she shouldn't raise us..."
Touya's expression softened slightly at her words, knowing very well of who she spoke about, the children with the turquoise eyes, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes. "(Y/n)..."
"I don't know what to do, Touya," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I'm scared." For a moment, Touya hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at his younger twin sister. Despite his tough exterior, he had always had a soft spot for her, a protective instinct that ran deep.
"Hey," he said gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "We'll figure this out, okay? Once I become a hero, I'll take you away from that place. You won't have to take responsibility for our parents' mistakes anymore. I promise."
Tears streamed down (Y/n)'s cheeks as she looked up at her brother, overwhelmed with gratitude and relief. "Thank you, Touya," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind.
As they reached their home, the darkness enveloped them, the fading twilight giving way to the night's embrace. Touya held (Y/n)'s small hand tightly as they walked, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the evening.
The sight that greeted them upon their return was heart-wrenching. Fuyumi and Natsuo stood in the dimly lit foyer, tears streaking down their faces, their expressions filled with sorrow and despair.
"(Y/n), Touya..." Fuyumi's voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes red and swollen from crying. "Dad... he came back. He took Mom away."
A chill ran down (Y/n)'s spine at Fuyumi's words, her heart sinking with dread. "Took her away? But why?"
Natsuo, the second youngest, clung to Touya, his usually stoic facade crumbling under the weight of his emotions. "He said... he said Mom had to say goodbye to us."
"What do you think Dad did with Mom?" (Y/n) whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. Hours after their youngest sibling revealed what occurred.
Touya's silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the usual reassurance she found in his presence. His expression was inscrutable, his jaw clenched tightly as if holding back a torrent of emotions.
(Y/n) felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her worry for her siblings and her missing mother weighing heavily on her mind. "Touya?" she pressed, her voice tinged with concern.
But Touya remained silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point, his thoughts a mystery to her.
As the door creaked open and Enji entered the room, (Y/n)'s heart fluttered with a fragile hope, quickly overshadowed by the dread that settled in her stomach. Her steps quickened as she approached him, her mind racing with a torrent of questions about Shoto and their mother.
But the somber expression etched on Enji's face extinguished any flicker of optimism within her. His words fell heavily, each syllable carrying the weight of their family's unraveling.
Shoto at the hospital, the ordeal left him thankfully with only a scar but his vision was ok. Her mother, Rei, also admitted. The revelation pierced through (Y/n)'s defenses, sending a shiver down her spine. Fear clenched her heart as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
"Is she... okay?" (Y/n)'s voice wavered, her concern laced with a thread of dread.
Enji's stoic demeanor offered no solace as he delivered the devastating truth. "Your mother... she's been admitted because she's a danger to herself and to you."
His words echoed in (Y/n)'s mind, mingling with memories of their fractured family life. She felt the weight of years of silent suffering, the invisible scars etched upon her mother's soul by Enji's relentless pursuit of power and perfection.
Images flashed before her eyes—her mother's forced smiles, the bruises hidden beneath long sleeves, the whispered apologies that always fell short of erasing the pain. For years, Rei had borne the burden of their father's wrath, her spirit slowly eroded by the relentless cycle of abuse and despair.
Tears pricked at (Y/n)'s eyes as she grappled with the realization that their family's facade of normalcy had shattered irreparably. How had it come to this? What darkness had driven her mother to the brink of self-destruction?
Enji's presence loomed over them like a specter, a reminder of the fear and helplessness that had plagued their lives for far too long. (Y/n) felt a surge of anger and resentment toward him, mixed with a profound sadness for the woman who had sacrificed everything for the sake of her children.
The air around Sekoto Peak crackled with tension as (Y/n) stood, her eyes fixed on the fiery horizon. Her heart raced in her chest, a drumbeat of anticipation and anxiety echoing in her ears. She scanned the landscape, searching desperately for any sign of her brother Touya or her father, Enji Todoroki.
"Touya," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the rustling of leaves and the distant roar of flames. "Where are you?"
As she spoke, a small crowd began to gather, drawn by the urgency of the situation before them. (Y/n) paid them no mind, her attention focused solely on the mountain before her, her heart pounding in her chest like a trapped bird desperate to break free.
But as the minutes stretched into eternity, there was still no sign of Touya. Panic clawed at (Y/n)'s throat, threatening to choke her with its suffocating grip. Where could he be? What had happened to him?
And then, just when she thought she couldn't bear the suspense any longer, a figure emerged from the flames, his silhouette outlined against the blazing sunset.
"Touya?" (Y/n) called out, her voice trembling with hope and fear.
But as the figure drew closer, (Y/n)'s heart sank like a stone. It wasn't Touya. It was her father, his expression grim and unreadable as he stepped out of the fire alone.
The crowd around them fell silent, sensing the tension in the air like a storm brewing on the horizon. (Y/n) felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath her feet, leaving her suspended in a void of uncertainty and dread.
"Father," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
Enji's gaze flickered briefly in her direction, but there was no warmth in his eyes, no trace of the fatherly love she had once known. Only cold indifference, like the icy grip of winter wrapping around her heart.
And then he spoke, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
"Touya is gone," he said, his words echoing in the stillness of the evening air. "His flame consumed him."
The words struck (Y/n) like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs and leaving her gasping for air. Gone? How could Touya be gone? It couldn't be true. It couldn't.
But as she looked into her father's eyes, (Y/n) knew that it was. Touya was gone, consumed by the flames he had so desperately sought to control. And (Y/n) was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered world, her heart heavy with grief and regret.
As the crowd around them dispersed, leaving (Y/n) alone with her father, she felt a cold rage building inside her chest, threatening to consume her with its intensity. How could he let this happen? How could he do this to their family, again?
But there were no answers, only silence. And as the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, (Y/n) turned and walked away, leaving her father behind in the ashes of their shattered dreams.
Synopsis: In the aftermath of a devastating battle, medic hero Mizu tends to the wounds of her childhood friend and fellow hero, Hawks.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow over the wreckage of the battlefield. The scent of smoke and the faint crackle of dying flames filled the air. Among the rubble and chaos, (Y/n) — the medic hero Mizu — worked tirelessly, her quirk manipulating water to heal the wounds of the injured. Her hands moved with practiced precision, but her heart was heavy with worry. The recent battle had left many heroes and civilians alike in desperate need of aid, and her mind was occupied with thoughts of a certain missing winged hero.
Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as she navigated the smoke-filled streets. The once bustling city was now reduced to rubble, cries of pain and desperation lingering in the air. Her hands trembled slightly, knowing she had to stay strong and focused.
A crash echoed from the entrance, and her heart skipped a beat. She turned to see a young hero-in-training staggering in, supporting the charred and unconscious body of a man. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the tattered remnants of the hero costume. Hawks.
"Mizu! Please, help him!" the student pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "He… he fought so hard, but Dabi's flames…"
Mizu's breath hitched. Her eyes scanned over Hawks' charred and battered form. His usually vibrant wings were gone. She could feel the panic rising, threatening to choke her. "Get him inside, quickly," she ordered, her voice firm despite the dread creeping into her heart.
As they laid Hawks gently onto a makeshift bed in her temporary clinic, memories bombarded her.
"Keigo, look!" Little (Y/n) had whispered, cupping her hands to reveal a tiny sphere of water she had managed to summon. Her young face beamed with pride. "I'm getting better!"
Young Keigo, his wings still growing, had smiled back, his golden eyes filled with warmth. "That's amazing, (Y/n)! One day, we'll both be great heroes. We'll get out of here and make a difference."
Tears blurred her vision, but she forced them back, focusing on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to lose him.
Mizu summoned water from the air, her hands glowing as she directed it over his burns. The cool liquid soothed his damaged skin, the healing properties of her quirk working rapidly. She watched his face intently, willing him to wake up, to give her any sign that he would be okay.
“Hawks… Keigo… please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You can’t leave me. Not now.”
Minutes felt like hours as she worked tirelessly, her tears mingling with the water she controlled. Suddenly, a faint movement caught her attention. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at her, his usually sharp eyes now dull and filled with pain.
“(Y/n)…” he rasped, barely audible.
“Hawks, don’t speak. Just rest,” she instructed, her voice thick with emotion. She continued to heal him, her hands steady despite the tears falling freely down her cheeks.
He tried to smile, but it was a weak, fragile thing. “Didn’t… think… I’d see you… cry,” he murmured.
“Don’t joke, you idiot,” she replied, a watery laugh escaping her. “You scared me to death.”
His hand reached up, trembling, to brush against her cheek. “Sorry… for… worrying you.”
She leaned into his touch, her heart aching with every beat. “Just promise me… promise you’ll never go without me again,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of desperation and love.
He managed a faint nod, his eyes never leaving hers. “I promise,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. “I… won’t leave you.”
Mizu’s hands continued their work, her focus unwavering now. She poured all her strength and love into healing him, determined to pull him back from the brink. As his breathing steadied and the color began to return to his cheeks, she allowed herself a small, relieved smile.
“Rest now, Hawks. You’re safe,” she said softly, brushing his hair back gently. “I’ve got you.”
He nodded slightly, his eyes closing once more as he drifted into a healing sleep. Mizu stayed by his side, her heart finally beginning to calm. The fear was still there, but so was the hope. She had him back, and she wouldn’t let go.
As the city slowly began to recover around them, Mizu knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. The bond they shared, forged in the fires of their past and strengthened in the trials of their present, would guide them through the uncertain future. And with that thought, she allowed herself to believe that they would be okay.
