Sanemi is definitely the type of partner to absolutely cover you with his body while the both of you sleep. Coming home late from a mission, way past midnight, so he knows his wife is bound to be asleep indefinitely. That, however, doesn't stop him from cleaning up and getting under the covers with you.
Your sprawled on your side, your leg out—you could pass as being on your stomach, but that doesn't matter right now. All your husband was concerned with was how absolutely at peace and how cute you look, snuggled up into the blanket. He lays down beside you, an arm immediately wrapping around your waist, the other snaking underneath your head, careful not to wake you as his body presses tight against yours.
A peaceful sigh leaves your lips and you unconsciously relax in his arms. His upper leg moves over your own, his body practically mounting you at this point. Sanemi presses a soft, few chaste kisses from your jaw to your neck, relishing in the fact that he was, once again, home with you. Suddenly, you stirred softly in his arms. A confused hum leaves your throat.
"Sanemi," you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you were still inevitably groggy, barely even coherent. Sanemi lets out a soft hum, "Sleep, love," he replies and you make another soft noise as you press further back into your husband, finally relaxing knowing he is home, safe and sound.
Suddenly, you had the overwhelming urge to turn around, to feel even closer to him. You now face him, slotting your upper leg between his thighs as you press close to him, arm wrapping around his torso while he other bunches at his chest. A soft chuckle leaves his lips, "You're moving around a lot for someone who should be asleep."
You completely ignore his statement. "Kiss," you ask, pouting your lips slightly—but it wasn't a question, it was more of a demand that he couldn't say no to, not that he every would—he would never deny you. Sanemi's lips meet yours softly, now you really now this isn't a dream, your body warms up with a soft and fuzzy feeling that only he could evoke from you. "Go to sleep now," he replies, arms tightening around you.
"Love you," you say.
"I love you," he replies, only a soft smiling rising on his face realising that you've fallen asleep.
Do not copy, steal, modify, etc.
Relogs and like are appreciated.
m.list | demon slayer m.list |
i am a firm believer that sanemi is a big softy with his wife.
Sanemi losing his shit after realizing you were dragged into the Infinity Castle
Pairing: Sanemi x fiancé!reader
Word Count: 1,6k
Synopsis: You promised to stay behind. He promised he’d come back to you alive. But when you’re suddenly pulled into the heart of the Infinity Castle, everyhting's turned upside down.
Warnings: ohhh I LOVED that teaser y'all, did you see how Obanai literally sprinted to be on Mitsuri's side? That's exactly what I imagined here hehehehe, go have a lil fluff with your soon-to-be husband <3
His instructions were too clear to ignore.
„Stay right where you are, got it? If I catch you out there, I’ll beat the shit out of you. Promise it, jerk.”
“Fine, I promise. Even though I know you’d never beat me.”
“Don’t count on it.”
And even though you couldn’t help but pout at his rough tone, you did exactly what he told you and waited for him at your estate. After all, he told you it will be over after this night, that he won’t be a demon slayer when he returns.
You believed him. How could you not, given the fact that your fiancé is none other than the wind hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa? The man you always despised but ended up loving instead. The man who seems as cold as ice on the outside but treats you like a princess when no one’s watching. Never in your life, you imagined quitting your work as a demon slayer to become a housewife. Not in a million years, not for a single person on this planet, you would’ve gave up your independence.
Until that jerk came around.
“Don’t worry, (y/n). I’ll kill enough of them fucking creatures for both of us.”
And you believed him. God, you believed every single word that white-haired maniac said. But somehow, you ended up breaking your own promise.
You went from changing into your sleepwear to finding yourself free-falling without ground in sight within the blink of an eye.
Out of instinct, you hold onto the little knife you always keep on your body for dear life, eyes scanning around the area with no real aim. You’ve never seen a place like this, never felt a more overwhelming aura. After years of slaying demons, the stinging smell in the air alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“What on earth is that place?”
Like you have to ask that question. Your stomach drops below your knees, you can’t help but swallow hard against that tension that builds up deep in your throat. That’s exactly what Sanemi was talking about earlier on, the final battle. And you’re falling straight in the middle of it.
It‘s been years since the last time you’ve held a sword, years since you’ve actually found peace with leaving this part of your life in your past, years since that overwhelming sickness haunted after you. And yet, you have no other choice.
The air is thick with screams, smoke and the stench of blood. Just before you have time to realize it, your body slams into the ground harder than expected, your ankle twisting beneath the impact with a merciless snap. You cry out, barely having time to gather your bearings before a monstrous shriek rips through the darkness.
A demon charges at you with teeth like pointy blades and eyes burning with starvation.
Your fingers fly to your waist, ready to meet the handle of your tiny knife that’s still better than nothing.
Gone.
Your knife, your only defense, is missing.
Panic swells in your chest as you scramble backward, dirt caking your hands, adrenaline drowning your thoughts. The demon lunges. You squeeze your eyes shut. No, this can’t be happening. You can’t just die out here, not like this. Did you really lose your knife like a lousy beginner? What would Sanemi think if he saw you here like this? Would he be sad, disappointed even? Both of you met during your times within the corps, he learned to love that wild and reckless side of yours. What would he say, seeing you standing here with your glossy eyes squeezed shut, desperately grabbing onto the air where your knife would have been?
“I’m sorry, Sanemi…”
You wait for it. The stinging pain of teeth digging deep into your flesh, the lights in your head slowly but surely getting dimmer.
But it never reaches you.
THWACK.
Instead, a gust of wind explodes past you, slicing the demon’s head clean off. Its body crashes beside you with a wet thud. Did you just…dream that? But you didn’t do anything, you didn’t see anyone earlier. There’s no way someone was able to reach you that fast.
And then you hear it - his voice.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”
You crack your eyes open. Sanemi’s standing over you, blade in hand, face redder than the blood soaking the ground while he stares down at you. His white hair is wild, his veins bulging, his lavender eyes glow with a fury that chills you more than the demon ever could. Suddenly, your near-death experience fading into the background.
“I told you to stay put! I told you!” he roars, grabbing your arm and yanking you to your feet, almost lifting you off the ground.
“I didn’t-!” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.
“You promised, (y/n)! What the hell were you thinking?! This isn’t some damn training exercise. This is war!”
His voice cracks slightly and with it, so does your heart.
“You could’ve been killed!”
You’re about to snap back, because yes, he’s right, but his tone still stings and it’s absolutely not your fault you ended up here - until you see the way his hand trembles on your arm. He’s not just angry. He’s terrified. What does all of this look like from his view? Like you decided to go against your promise, like you don’t give a damn about his worries?
“I don’t even know how I got here,” you reply quietly, hand clutching his wrist in order to stop yourself from shooting back at him.
“I changed into my sleepwear, and the next thing I knew, I was falling. I think someone sent me here.”
Sanemi’s eyes narrow, his eyes dart around the area. The fallen slayers, the chaos as far as the eye can see. Those aren’t the demon slayers who agreed on accompanying the hashira on their mission. No, some of them aren’t even able to lift up their sword correctly, get whipped from this earth without even putting up a real fight. You can see the moment it clicks, the moment he slowly but surely starts to realize what’s going on.
"...No," he whispers.
"What?"
“It’s not just you.”
His voice is lower now. Dead serious.
“Everyone’s here. Even slayers who already quit, the rookies who fight like trash... Some of them shouldn’t even be able to fight anymore.”
You swallow thickly.
“You mean…?”
“They dropped every last one of us into this hellhole. They want a final purge.”
Sanemi releases your arm and runs a hand through his hair. He’s trying to stay calm, to think like the hashira he is. But when his eyes meet yours again, that cool command vanishes - replaced by raw fear. This is not a place for his fiancé. Didn’t he promise you that he’ll get home save, that the two of you will live a peaceful life after tonight? What if…what if something happens to you? What if he won’t be able to save you?
No. He can’t let that happen. There’s no way in hell that he’ll let a demon even touch you.
“I’m gonna say this once, and you're gonna listen for real this time.”
He steps closer, resting both hands on your shoulders, firm but shaking. You can’t help but rest your hands against his chest. Usually, his steady heartbeat is what lures you to sleep at night. But his heart is racing, your nerves are tingling and you know there’s only one way to make it out alive.
“You don’t leave my side. Not for a second. Got it?”
You nod, but his eyes blaze harder.
“No. Say it.”
“I won’t leave your side.”
“Again.”
“I won’t leave your side, Sanemi.”
He pulls you into his chest so suddenly you gasp. His arms wrap around you like armor, almost too tight and yet not tight enough. Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him, crawl your fingers into his back in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. When he cups your chin and presses his lips against yours, you fail to exist for a moment. He brushes over you like he tries to memorize you like a map, like you might vanish into thin air if he doesn’t keep you close. Over and over, his mouth clashes against yours despite the ringing of destruction somewhere far away in your ears, holds you so close to him that you can feel his heartbeat vibrate right through you.
“You don’t get to die here,” he growls into your parted lips. “I gave up everything so you could live, damn it. I’ll carve a thousand demons apart if I have to, but you’re getting out of this with me. You understand me?”
Your fingers curl into the back of his haori. You can feel his heart slamming against your cheek while you press yourself even harder against him.
“Then you don’t get to die either,” you mutter into the fabric.
Sanemi’s silence is heavy until a low chuckle escapes his lips.
“…I won’t. Not if you're watching. After all, dying in front of my fiancé sounds like trash.”
Another demon scream erupts in the distance. Sanemi grabs your hand and though your knife is lost, he places one of his spare blades into your palm.
“Let’s go, princess,” he mutters, trying to mask the shake in his voice.
── .✦ oblivious to all of your fellow slayers' attempts to flirt with you, you blissfully go about your training... until sanemi's patience finally breaks.
── .✦ contents: set during hashira training arc, established (hidden) relationship, possessive!sanemi, reader oblivious to being hit on, rage-baiting sanemi turns wrong, implied sexual content at the end
── .✦ 3.5k words
⋆˚꩜｡was supposed to be just posted on my nsfw blog, but i got carried away with setting up the plot, so i had to split it up into two parts LOL, enjoy!
Every step you took across the gravel path felt like your calves were going to burn off.
It was a bright, early morning, the crisp air tickling your nose nicely in contrast to the heat inside your legs from Uzui's training the day before.
You were halfway adjusting the strap of your sword when you heard footsteps quicken behind you.
"Oi-! Wait up!"
You turned just as two other slayers jogged to catch up to you, both still looking a little roughed up from yesterday's endurance rounds.
"You didn't tell us you were heading to Shinazugawa's training this morning," one of them said, brushing hair from his eyes in a way that he definitely thought looked smoother than it actually was.
"Oh," you smiled, "I thought I mentioned it last night when everyone was talking over dinner?"
The other snorted. "We knew, just didn't know you were going early."
You blinked, tilting your head. "It's not early? Training starts in like twenty minutes."
"Yeah," he said, a little breathless, "and you're already up and walking. That's early."
You laughed, not catching the way their eyes lingered on your figure. "I just didn't want to be late!"
"You look good, though," the first one said, and when you looked at him with confusion, he immediately backpedaled. "I mean—awake! Awake. You look awake."
You grinned at that, completely unbothered. "Thanks! I slept really well."
Which wasn't entirely true, you never slept well when you weren't sleeping next to Sanemi, though they didn't need to know that.
"Bet you're the only one," the second guy sighed, "I couldn't even lift my arms last night."
"Uzui's training is brutal," the other agreed, "Wouldn't blame you if you skipped the next one."
"Oh no, I'm fine," you hummed, "I'm excited for today, actually."
They exchanged a look, probably thinking that you were insane, before one of them jogged ahead a step to hold a branch out of your way.
You thanked him with a smile, to which he nearly tripped over a rock from how hard he smiled from that.
The path curved toward the open field where Sanemi held his sessions. You could already see the training posts in the distance with the battered wooden dummies.
"So... you ever trained with him before?"
"Mhm," you nodded, "A few times."
"Really? And you survived?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "He's not that scary."
With the way both men stared at you, you'd think that you fought Muzan with your bare hands or something.
"Not that-? Okay." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Guess we're seeing a different Hashira, then."
You hummed, stepping over a fallen branch. "He's really patient if you just focus and listen."
The guy on your right choked in response, the other slapping him on the back.
You raised your eyebrow, but didn't push it. You just kept walking, appreciating the way the peeking sunlight warmed your shoulders.
It wasn't until the field finally opened fully before you that you realized something was off.
Because Sanemi was already there, a few other slayers were lingering around as well in preparation for the training.
Standing in the middle of the grounds with his arms crossed tight, and a scowl wrinkling his face... like he'd been waiting long enough to be irritated about it.
His eyes slid from you to the two slayers walking beside you... and then back to you.
You didn't need to be a genius to read that look.
The guys stiffened instantly, hissing under his breath, "Shit, he's looking over."
"Good morning, Mr. Shinazugawa!" You called to him, cheerful as ever.
Sanemi didn't respond. Instead, he just tipped his chin toward the two at your sides.
"They always follow you around," he asked suspiciously calm, "Or am I just lucky enough to see it every damn time?"
Both guys paled.
You stared, processing, before nodding. "Oh! They were just accompanying me."
Sanemi's jaw flexed, "Yeah, I figured." He muttered.
He turned away sharply, barking for the rest of the trainees to line up, but you knew him too well. That wasn't irritation.
It was jealousy.
You paid no mind to it, really, you found it cute!
Which, of course, only pissed him off more.
You stepped into line with the others, rolling your shoulders out and doing some other small stretches as a shadow loomed over you, casting a shadow over the sun that was warming your skin.
You looked up to see one of the guys who walked up with you.
"Oh, hi!"
He was the taller one, sweat still drying on his temples, bokken slung behind him like he thought it looked impressive.
"Didn't wanna crowd you while we walked," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "But... I, uh... can help you stretch, if you want?"
You smiled, "Oh, that's really thoughtful-"
His face brightened instantly.
"-but I'm okay! I just need a minute and I'll loosen up."
His smile faltered, but he didn't move away. If anything, he stepped closer, close enough that you could see the small cut healing over his cheekbone.
"You sure?" he pressed gently, "You pushed hard yesterday. Mr. Uzui really had you going."
You laughed. "Did he? I didn't notice."
He stared at you like that was the hottest thing anyone had ever said in history, although of course, you didn't catch it.
"I, uh—yeah," he murmured. "You looked good yesterday."
You looked at him, "...Huh?"
"Good," he repeated, swallowing. "Strong. Focused. I thought, well... if you ever wanted a partner to practice with, I'm usually free in the mornings."
"Oh!" You perked, "Thank you! I'll remember that."
You absolutely wouldn't, but you meant the sentiment sincerely.
He was gearing up to say something else, when suddenly the temperature in the air shifted.
Not the air... not the sun, nope, not quite.
A chill cut sharply through the warmth behind you.
"Oi."
Sanemi's voice cranked across the field like a blade unsheathing.
He was right behind you, you could feel him.
You could also feel the glare radiating past your shoulder, aimed directly at the man who'd been looming over you a second ago.
"Training starts in ten," Sanemi barked, "So unless you're planning on flirting your way through drills-"
The guy choked. "I-I wasn't flirting-!"
"Didn't ask for your excuses," Sanemi snapped. "I said get in formation."
He practically sprinted away.
You huffed, still smoothing out the tension in your legs. "...He was just talking to me," you murmured, glancing up at the man behind you.
Sanemi didn't look at you. Didn't even blink, or breathe, as far as you could tell.
"He was hovering over you," he muttered with a clenched jaw, "There's a difference."
You frowned, standing up as you dusted dirt off your pants. "He was being nice."
Sanemi finally looked at you.
And that look... that sharp, disbelieving, how-are-you-this-clueless look... You knew it well.
"Tch. Whatever," he grumbled, walking around you and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Just keep your distance. Don't need idiots crowding you before drills."
You just smiled as you rolled your eyes, making him stalk off muttering something under his breath about "damn women."
He barked for everyone to get into their starting positions, dirt flying up in the air with everyone's scurried movements.
You slipped into your row, settling into your stance. A few other slayers shuffled closer, flocking towards you like birds to bread.
"Man, I'm not ready for this," one of them groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "Everyone said Mr. Shinazugawa's training is the worst."
Another nudged him. "Speak for yourself, I like it. Builds character. Besides-" his eyes flicked to you, "-some people make the morning worth showing up for."
You brightened at that, "Oh! That's sweet-"
"It's creepy," the first guy hissed under his breath, elbowing him as they both laughed like idiots.
You paused, confused at the exchange, but smiled through it nonetheless.
Sanemi, who stood ten feet away with his arms crossed tight enough to burst a nerve, didn't miss a word of this exchange.
His eye twitched... just a little.
Barely noticeable, but you noticed.
He lifted his training bokken suddenly, snapping it against his palm. "If you morons are done gossiping, we can start."
The two men beside you stiffened like they were caught stealing.
Sanemi hardly looked in your direction, but every time someone leaned too close or whispered something to you, his jaw clenched tighter. He corrected the trainees one by one, pacing down the line like a prowling wolf.
When he stopped behind the guy standing to your left, the poor man jumped like he'd sensed a demon breathing down his neck.
"You," Sanemi said coldly, "What are you staring at?"
The guy paled. "N-nothing, sir."
Sanemi leaned closer. "Then focus on your stance instead of wandering eyes."
You glanced at them, fingers fiddling with your wooden sword. Was that about you?
Probably.
But he wasn't looking at you at all, he kept continuing down the row, seemingly unfazed.
The warm-up drills began: footwork, controlled strikes, and defensive pivots. You fell easily into the rhythm, and you could feel eyes on you as you moved, though you focused on yourself.
"Your form's really clean," one guy murmured beside you when the groups rotated. "You want a partner for the next drill? I'd be happy to work with-"
"She already has a partner," another interrupted, sliding in on your other side. He sent you a grin. "We usually train together, right?"
"...We do?"
They both froze.
Sanemi stopped mid-stride, head turning slowly, watching with an expression that could cut stone.
You, oblivious as ever, just nodded cheerily when both guys offered to demonstrate the next exercise for you. "Thanks! That helps a lot."
A loud crack echoed.
Sanemi had slammed the bokken into the nearest practice post so hard that the wood splintered.
Everyone jumped as he shouted. "Rotate! Next drill, move it!"
You hurried with the group, continuing to the striking portion, the part everyone seemed to dread, his infamous drill.
He called the first trainee forward. Whack, strike, counter, strike, strike. It was brutally efficient.
One after another, slayers were demolished, rolled to the side, gasping, then shoved back to their feet.
When it was your turn, you stepped up confidently... apparently a little too confidently for the two guys behind you.
"She's gonna do great."
"Yeah, she's tough."
Sanemi didn't acknowledge them, just standing in front of you, finally looking at you.
It wasn't soft, no, it wasn't fond either... just a sharp, hyper-focused intensity that hyped you up even more to do well.
"Ready?"
You smiled. "Mm-hm!"
He hated the fact that his heart warmed at that.
He struck hard, exactly like he did to everyone else. No hesitation, no wavering at all.
You countered, your footwork sure, absorbing each hit with practiced resilience.
Sure, maybe you were slightly at an upper hand, getting to train personally with him from time to time, but it was your own efforts that got you to where you were.
Sanemi struck harder with every murmur he heard talking about you, not to hurt you, but more for himself. To drown out the noise.
You took every hit like a champ, a well-seasoned slayer. He never thought you looked more beautiful.
And apparently, he wasn't the only one, the whispers kept going, growing.
And that only made Sanemi's grip tighten until the wood creaked.
When the drills ended, you were flushed, breathing hard, skin stinging, but ultimately proud of yourself.
"Great work today," someone said, offering you a water gourd like he was presenting a sacred treasure. "You want help wrapping your hands?"
"Oh! No, thank you, I can handle it!"
He deflated a little, but of course, he didn't give up.
"If you're sore later, I know a really good bathhouse near my place," he added, trying for casual and failing miserably. "Steam, private, good for the muscles. I could... y'know... help out. Since we trained together and all."
You stared at him.
Was he... coming onto you? No... surely not.
"That's... really nice of you, but-"
Before you could finish your sentence, someone else cut in.
"Oi! Why're you offering her a bath?" Another slayer asked, adjusting his uniform as he stepped closer. "That's a little forward, don'cha think? She probably already has plans."
"Plans?" The first guy echoed, brows furrowing as he stared at you. "You do? With who?"
Who does this guy think he is?
You opened your mouth, but Sanemi's opened first.
He was behind you again, "Enough."
His voice was as cold as a windy gust, making everyone flinch.
"Training's over," he snapped. "If you idiots still have the energy to flap your gums, I'll gladly burn the rest of it out of you."
"Y-yes, sir!" the slayers chorused, scrambling to scatter like terrified pigeons.
But not fast enough apparently, because the bath house guy (that poor, misguided soul) made the fatal mistake of glancing back at you to rake his eyes over your figure as he stepped away.
And Sanemi fucking saw it.
His jaw flexed once, hard enough that you could see the vein in his temple pulse. His eyes narrowed to a slit, following the guy's retreat until he was out of sight.
"That was... a lot," you laughed, rubbing the bruises on your skin.
Sanemi didn't laugh, instead, he turned his head towards you slowly, like he was still trying to unclench every muscle in his neck.
"Didn't know I was running a damn matchmaking service," he muttered.
"Huh?"
"All morning," he snapped, "I had guys tripping over themselves to talk to you. Or touch you. Or 'help you stretch'."
His voice pitched higher as two fingers on both hands crunched to fake quote his words. "'You looked really good yesterday.' Let's bathe together'." He clicked his tongue. "Idiots..."
You hid your smile behind the rim of your gourd. "They were just being friendly."
He stared at you, for a long moment too.
"You really don't see it, do you?"
You tilted your head. "See what?"
Sanemi closed his eyes with a deep sigh, needing that moment to himself to get through the next thirty seconds.
"That they were trying to court you."
"...Oh."
His eyes snapped open, "'Oh?' Seriously? That's all you've got?"
You shrugged with a laugh, setting your water down. "Well, I wasn't interested, so-"
"That's not the point, Y/N," he growled, turning away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. You could practically see the steam radiating off his body. "They shouldn't even be looking at you like that."
You stepped closer to him, hands behind your back. "And why's that?"
"You know why."
Your heart skipped a beat, "No... I don't believe that I do."
Sanemi scoffed, turning around to see your gleaming expression.
Of course you were enjoying this.
"Don't start with me."
You blinked innocently, swaying a bit. "Start what?"
"That." He pointed at your face, "That stupid little smile you get when you think it's cute to piss me off."
You raised a brow. "I'm not doing anything."
"You're breathing," he shot back instantly, "Apparently that's enough to make half the corps try to court you."
You rolled your lips together tight, trying your hardest not to laugh.
You failed miserably, and the tiny puff of air that escaped was all it took.
Sanemi's head snapped toward you like you'd just fired a damn cannon.
"There it is," he barked, throwing a hand up. "See? That! You're doing it on purpose."
"I'm really not," you grinned.
A vein popped at his temple. "You find this funny?"
"A bit."
"Well, it's not." He huffed, crossing his arms as he glared harshly at the scattered bokken over the ground.
He eventually turned his gaze back to you, "You're spoken for." He muttered quietly, a blush tinting his cheeks.
Your brows rose. "By who?"
His nostrils flared. "Y/N."
Sanemi took a second to collect himself, "By me, obviously," he snapped, his words tumbling out harsher than he meant. "Who the hell else?"
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling again. "Ohhh. Right... That."
"That?" He seethed, eyes squinting at you, like he was daring you to double down on your words.
"Yes," you nodded, suddenly liking the way the ground looked at that moment.
"And, what is that, hah?" He stepped closer, invading your space to the point where his feet touched yours. "Tell me, hm?" he pressed on, nudging your chin up to look at him.
Your throat closed up as his touch tingled your skin.
Your eyes snapped up to his, and that's when whatever sly comment you were going to say died on your tongue.
The way he looked was sinful as his mouth tugged into the slightest smirk.
"Oh?" he murmured, tilting your chin a little higher. "Where'd all that smart talk go?"
"I-I wasn't-" you stammered.
He huffed a laugh through his nose, "Please. You know what you were doing."
Heat crept up your neck. "No, I was just-"
"Just what?" he pressed, leaning in until your noses almost brushed. "Playing dumb? Or finally realizing what you started?"
"Didn't start anything," you grumbled, your eyes not leaving his gaze. You couldn't, it was just too addictive.
"Sure you did." His thumb skimmed your jaw, "Was real bold a minute ago, poking at me like that."
You tried to look away, but his fingers followed, guiding your chin back.
"But now?" He hummed, "Look at you."
"Sanemi-"
"Can't even look me in the eyes anymore?" He grinned, reveling in the way you looked so flustered. "Cute."
He leaned in even closer, his deep voice tickling your ears.
"Wanna know what they shouldn't be looking at you like that?" He whispered, lips nearly brushing your cheek as his hands steadied your hips.
You froze, mouth parting to answer, but he didn't give you time.
"Because you get like this too damn easy," he muttered, "and that's mine to see, not theirs."
His fingers flexed at your hips, dragging you flush against him with his grip tightening as he searched your eyes. "Sane-"
He dipped his head and caught your lips with his with no warning.
Your hands instantly curled into his haori, gripping tight as his lips moved in tandem with yours, kissing you so deeply that it made your head spin.
He pulled back just enough to breathe the same air you were gasping for, his forehead resting against yours. "See?" he murmured, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "S'what they'll never get to look at."
Your pulse hammered so loud you were certain he could hear it. "You should head back n'wash up before those idiots come looking for you."
You frowned, your softened gaze turning sharp. "Oh... you don't want me to stay?"
Sanemi blinked once... twice, three times... he couldn't believe you 'd managed to flip the entire situation on him in five seconds flat.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue, his eyes darting briefly away before snapping right back to you. "Don't start this shit again."
"What? M'just asking..." you said softly, eyes wide in that dangerously innocent way that always messed with him. "You kissed me and then immediately tried to kick me out."
"Didn't say that," he muttered, "I said if you don't go now, those guys will come sniffing around again."
"Let them."
He groaned, letting his head fall back as his hands on you tightened. "I'd rather not have the whole corps watch me ravage you."
Your brows perked, and your lips curled as you leaned in closer, letting your breath tickle his jaw. "Oh? So should I take up the offer for the bathhouse?"
Sanemi's entire body went still.
His grip on you turned devastating, and his eyes snapped down to yours with that sharp-cut gaze. "Don't," he growled.
"Don't... what?" You feigned innocence.
"Don't say shit like that," he muttered, "You're not goin' anywhere."
You hummed, fingers tracing the front of his uniform just to watch his breath stutter. "Mm. But you said that I should head back and wash up, right?"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
You tilted your head. "So you do want me to stay?"
Sanemi let out a slow exhale, in disbelief that it was already back to this again. You were equal parts of problem and addiction.
"Yeah," he muttered finally. His hands slid from your hips to your lower back, pulling you in until your toes barely touched the floor. "Want ya to stay."
Your breath caught, but you didn't let him see how much it affected you. You only blinked up at him, lashes fluttering in the way you knew was his weakness.
"Well..." you whispered, fingers hooking into his haori, "...you could've just said that."
Sanemi scoffed, "If you stopped twistin' my words every ten seconds, maybe I would."
You giggled, "But it's fun watching you get all worked up."
His eyes darkened. "Oh, I'm worked up, alright," his voice dropped along with his head to your ear. "And you're real damn close to finding out just how much."
Heat pooled in your stomach as you bit your lip. "Teach me then, Mr. Shinazugawa."
His breath hitched, eyes gleaming with unrestrained lust. He leaned in, lips brushing your cheek, voice low enough to shiver straight down your spine.
"Get inside," he murmured. "Your training isn't over."
Tengen had been overjoyed with the news of your baby. He couldn't believe he would be a father — the father to your child.
If the shinobi knew one thing, then it was that he would keep you safe, both of you. For your child and the love of his life, he would go to the end of the world and back.
As much as he'd have liked shielding you from any and all dangers, there are things he just can't influence. One of them — much to his dismay — was your own mind.
Tengen could only stare in awe as you changed over the months, your body ready to nurture your child. In his eyes, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing you like this, doing this with you.
However, as much as you would like to share his opinion, you couldn't seem to concentrate on the positive things bestowed upon you. You found yourself standing in front of the mirror more often, your gaze following other women when they passed you in the street.
Of course he noticed something was wrong when he came home and saw you standing in front of the mirror. Your hands rested on your stomach, careful but not in adoration. You looked insecure, uncomfortable, ashamed even.
He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, chin resting on your head. The smile he flashed you was meant to be uplifting, but you only avoided his gaze.
"What's wrong, sugar bear?" He asks, tilting your head to the side to meet your gaze. You lean into his touch, but it doesn't comfort you the way it usually does.
"Tengen, do you.. do you think I'm pretty?" The question has him stop momentarily, nearly letting go of you in the process. The smile on his face vanished right after, a worried expression replacing it.
"Did someone tell you otherwise?" His gaze was serious, clearly ready to start a fight with whoever dared to speak such crude words to his wife. You interrupt him before things escalate.
"No— No! It's just— I just— I don't feel pretty." You answer, hands clenching together. Seeing you this insecure had his heart throb uncomfortably. "Why would you say that?"
"Just— just look at me, Tengen! I can't kneel down, I need help with everything!" Tears start burning in your eyes, threatening to spill. "You even started calling me a bear— I— I feel unattractive and fat— and— and—"
Seeing you tremble in frustration, he turns you to face him, hands cupping your cheeks to silence you.
"Listen to me, [name]. I'm not calling you overweight. What kind of husband would I be? You're my wife — my everything. And soon you're going to be the mother of my child. A mama bear, hm? Because I know you will protect our little rascal from whatever comes our way, no?"
The tears are finally falling with his confession, uncontrolled sobs leaving your lips. He doesn't mind, he never minded comforting you. As he pulls you into an embrace, you press your face against his chest, trying to stop yourself from crying.
With how sweet he talked to you, you felt stupid for ever doubting him or yourself. There was no way he'd stop loving you because of this.
"Hey, don't hide from me now... It's not flamboyant to keep things from your husband, not even your tears."
Gods, did you love this man.
Obanai:
When Obanai became a hashira, he knew that his bloodline would end with him. The cursed blood cursing through his veins was a punishment, to him and everyone he knew.
He didn't know when loneliness didn't feel isolating anymore, when he told himself that everything was as it should be. But then he met you.
He thought the last pleasure he allowed himself was getting to know you, loving you, marrying you. Everything escalated so quickly that he couldn't do anything about it. No, he even waited for it, hoped you would accept him for who he is.
And you did. You accepted his love, you accepted his past and you accepted his flaws. And you loved him. So how could he ever deny you when you admitted you were with child — his child.
If he had just a little less restraint than now, he would've fallen to his knees right there. If you let him, he would embrace you and never let go.
The unshed tears in your eyes were long forgotten when you saw him look back in awe and not shock. Despite loving him, you had feared ruining everything. How could you not? His past haunted him, you didn't want to defy his wishes.
Thus, even in the face of both your doubts, you stayed together. It wasn't a fleeting decision he made, he stood for what he believed and he stayed by your side.
Months have passed since then and your child would soon be born. Only when you woke up in the middle of the night did you realize that something was wrong.
Your husband wasn't sleeping like usually. He sat there in silence, cold hand carefully holding onto yours. You slowly rolled over, eyes locking on his face. His expression was uncharacteristically empty, a hint of worry filling his eyes.
"What if I'm not fit to be father?"
The question was spoken into the silence of your bedroom, voice barely above a whisper. He sounded uncharacteristically scared.
Realizing how distraught he actually seemed, you moved to sit up. The action snapped him out of his trance, slender hands helping you change positions.
"...Why would you think that?" You quietly ask, leaning forward as much as your growing belly allowed. He met your gaze, but he didn't speak. His expression was enough to understand. With everything that happened in his past — in his family — he felt unworthy of this role.
"Obanai, look at you. I can't even sit up without you reacting immediately." You whisper, hand moving to cup his face. He doesn't budge, as if he feared he would ruin everything with the slightest slip up.
"I can't believe that a man who worries over my every move would make a bad father." The words have his heart clench, finally moving to hold you close.
"And if you love our child just as much as me, it'll only know a happy childhood."
Obanai wasn't one to cry, but — that night — it took his everything to not let the tears fall.
He holds you until you grow tired in his embrace, until he feels your head dip lower, your eyes closed in comfortable slumber. He's careful not to wake you again, holding you even when sleep gets to him and he no longer has the focus to worry.
Kyojuro:
You've heard of the cravings many pregnant women experienced while carrying their child. Pickles, chocolate or even cheese — you had heard it all. Some even combined foods you'd thought had you vomiting from the smell alone, but who were you to judge?
At the end of the day, you were sure those cravings would never reach you. Maybe wanting a piece of chocolate would be fine, or hunger for something else, but you truly believed no worrisome combination would fill your mind.
And for the first few months, everything seemed fine. Kyojuro knew how to take care of a woman and he made sure to not hold back with that knowledge either. Sometimes he gauged your needs before you could even vocalize them.
Yet things were bound to shift when you underwent change. It just happened to be in the middle of the night when you awoke in your shared futon, staring at the ceiling. Kyojuro protectively slept by your side, constantly having a hand on you.
"Kyo.." You whispered, touching his arm cautiously. You meant to be gentle, but he was awake in a second. His eyes snapped open, body jumping up to sit straight. He stared at you with eyes full of worry, looking you over.
"Is something wrong, my love? Are you in pain?" He asked, hand finding your thigh. You silently shook your head, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He looked so worried and yet you woke him for something like that.
"I'm... I'm hungry, Kyojuro.. Really hungry.." You muttered quietly, turning your head away to avoid his gaze. For a moment, you could feel his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, but then he reacted.
"Did you wake me to help?" He asked, hand wandering to interlock with yours. He squeezed it reassuringly, glad when you nodded. "I don't mind, my sunflower. Let me help you up."
Now here you were, standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night. Kyojuro had lit candles all around, making sure that it wasn't too dark for either of you. "So? What can I help you with?"
"The chili oil — would you get it for me?" He moves without a second thought, head whipping towards the wall cabinets. They weren't exactly the best place to store things for a pregnant woman.
When he turned around with the small container in hand, he didn't expect you to hold something else already.
A whole plate of dango, which he had brought home this afternoon looked back at him. He furrowed his brows lightly, slowly placing the container of chilli oil onto the kitchen counter.
"Thank you, Kyo." You say, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek. Your sweet actions contrasted sharply with the combination of food that stood in front of you.
"What are you doing?" He asks hesitantly, watching you pick up the dango to dip it into the spicy liquid next to it.
"I told you I'm hungry!" You nearly whine back, looking up at him with the pleading gaze that had him melt in seconds. He couldn't possibly stop you from doing this, but that didn't mean he was calm about it.
"I've been craving it all day and it's sooo good..." You praise, chewing on your creation like it would solve world hunger. Truth be told, your husband had difficulties with not letting his jaw drop to the floor.
"My sunflower, are you— are you sure that's healthy?" You look back at him, tilting your head to the side. If it hadn't been for the worry filling his body, he would be in awe by the way you munched on it.
"Do you want to try?" The words have his body tensing, eyes traveling between you and the food in your hand. He really didn't want to try, but he also didn't want to deny his wife.
With a soft sigh of defeat, he takes the dango from you, watching the chilli oil coat it like a second skin. He swallows down his pride, pushing the whole sweet in his mouth.
The way he keeps from spitting out right after had you leaning back, wide eyes watching him curiously. "Are you okay?" You ask, voice full of concern.
"It's— It's delicious, my sunflower..." You blink a few times, wondering if you're just imagining how his skin went pale. He clearly had trouble even swallowing what he had in his mouth, but he wouldn't admit it.
Seeing your husband silently fight over approving of your pregnancy cravings, you clasp a hand over your mouth, trying to keep yourself from laughing. Despite your greatest efforts, he takes note of the way you suppress your laughter.
"..Why— why are you laughing—" He nearly whines, still trying to not spit out the abomination he just ate. Great, now you really couldn't keep it together.
Sanemi:
Pregnancy hasn't been treating you unkindly. You've heard of many women complain about how exhausting it is — which was certainly true — but they always seemed to let out the good part. Pregnancy wasn't just pain, it was also love and comfort.
And the one that gave you comfort and love was no other than your husband. The white-haired man had stared at you in awe when you broke the news to him.
"..Me? You're saying I'm going to be a father?" He wasn't sure whether he had whispered or screamed back then, but all the tension he usually carried was gone. For a moment, there was only you in his world — smiling, welcoming, loving.
The way you nodded so softly, it had him move without thinking, arms wrapping around you. "My wife.. My wife is carrying my child.." He muttered, head resting on your shoulder. Never in your life had you expected the strongest man you knew to break down like that.
Perhaps you should've been scared that he would stop loving you one day, that he wasn't ready to have children, that he wouldn't find you attractive after a few months passed. Yet none of those thoughts managed to fill your mind when he held you this tightly.
And just like that, he was trailing you like a shadow. The missions he usually took on were passed on to other demon slayers and hashira. He had a much greater duty to fulfill now — care for his pregnant wife.
Sanemi only left the estate occasionally — when you craved something special, when an important meeting was held or when someone needed to buy groceries.
Albeit when you had someone by your side more often than not, life felt almost isolate without them by your side. So when your husband left to run errands, the estate felt too quiet for your liking.
Months have passed since you had revealed the news to him; your stomach had grown with your child. Looking outside the window — the sun illuminating the afternoon sky — you felt the desire to be productive arise in you.
Having an attentive husband was lovely, but it often left you with nothing to do. Without the chores you took care of when he was away, you had far more time on your hands.
Of course you used this golden opportunity to engage in things you haven't done in a long time. There wasn't much you could still take care of being in the late stages of your pregnancy, but cooking seemed just fine.
Smelling the alluring aroma of cooked rice and meat wafting through the air, your returning husband already knew what you were up to when he stepped through the door. Finally entering the kitchen only confirmed his suspicion.
Sanemi couldn't speak for other husbands, but he certainly knew one thing for himself: he could melt whenever he saw you, his one and only wife. With a content smile on his face, he approached from behind.
You were clearly surprised by the feeling of strong hands grabbing your hips, a muscular body pressing against you from behind. However, you didn't panic, already recognizing the familiar feel of your lover.
"Why would you sneak up on me like that!" You fuss, yet your voice was far too soft to originate from someone seriously mad. Your bickering only earns an amused hum.
"What? Can't a man appreciate his sweet wife?" He responds, his arms moving to wrap around you. You chuckle, leaning back to sway with him for a moment.
"A little surprised that rascal isn't movin' today.." He murmurs, pressing a kiss against your cheek. His hand rubs your belly gently, his grin widening when he hears you sigh.
"I think our baby knows that daddy is here to protect us." You answer sweetly, flashing him a tranquil smile. You tilt your head up, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. "What are you thinking about?"
"..'m thinking that if you keep talking like that our little rascal will have a little sibling in a year or two." His words have your cheeks heating up, playfully slapping his arm.
"You can't blame me for wanting a family with the best wife I could have." He counters, nearly fooling you into giving up with his words. Howbeit, then he leans down to nip on your ear. "Besides... I wouldn't mind rocking this body once more..."
"Sanemi!"
Giyuu:
After the two of you returned from an annual doctor visit, Giyuu seemed to be in thought. You were quick to ask your husband what he was brooding over, worrying about what he might say.
The doctor had announced you would bear a son just today; you really thought your love would be happy about the news. Now he seemed more absent than usual, an unwelcome feeling spreading in your stomach.
"It's not that, Don't worry, darling.. I just.. I have been thinking about what the doctor had said." You tilt your head to the side, glad that it wasn't something serious, but confused what else could consume his thoughts like that.
"How come everyone can vouch for our son's liveliness expect me?" His voice is steady, but you knew how insecure the situation actually had him. Despite being pregnant for over half a year now, your husband had never felt his child move inside your stomach.
It irked him greatly, especially since many other people have already spoken about how your child seemed restless even when unborn. Your eyes softened when you heard him speak, coming closer to wrap your arms around his neck.
He gently puts his hands on your waist, never one to deny when you searched for physical contact. Leaning down, his forehead pressed against yours, quietly meeting your gaze. "Maybe you need to spend more time with him?"
"More.. time?" He asks, confused by what you meant. His reaction only earns a chuckle from you, nodding in response.
Your husband didn't speak after your little remark, probably thinking about what you've said. However, a few days later, he started listening to your advice.
The sun illuminated your garden as you sat on the engawa. That's when Giyuu joined you. He carried your favorite tea with him, knowing that you enjoyed days like these with a warm beverage to accompany it.
You waited for him to sit down next to you like he always did, but today your husband had a different agenda. He kneeled down on the ground in front of you, taking place between your legs.
You stared silently as he put his hand on your belly, caressing it as if you were the most sacred thing he could have near. The words you had wanted to speak were stuck in your throat, too engrossed by his actions.
"It is me, little one, your father." He spoke, icy eyes long having shed their coldness. What's left is only warmth and love.
He moved closer to press the side of his head against you, carefully feeling and listening, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was to be your future. "Your mommy told me that you kept her from sleeping again." He murmured, his right hand having switched to rub your thigh soothingly, trying to give both his loved ones affection.
"But when I awoke, you stopped immediately. I can't help but feel like you're mocking me.." You lift your hand to caress your husband's head, knowing that he would be upset about not getting to feel your child once more.
You didn't get to comfort him, as the movement in your stomach had the two of you silenced. He remained completely still, as if he feared the feeling would stop.
Then he looked up, gentle gaze focusing on you. The smile forming on his face was one of peace, leaning into your touch as you cupped his cheek.
"That's your son, Giyuu."
"My son..."
He pushed himself upwards, muscular body blocking the light. Then he leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips.
"And my wife..."
Gyomei:
Gyomei loved children. He had always been in awe at their small minds, how differently they perceived the world and how earnestly they loved.
The day he finds out that you carry his child, tears spill from his eyes uncontrollably. What usually only lasted minutes, took him hours to stop. You had been blessed with a child and he couldn't be more thankful.
He spend many days after learning how to treat a pregnant woman, especially when she came close to giving birth. Fresh air, nurturing food, comfort and love — he made sure you were provided with everything.
If the gods could bless someone with the perfect husband, you were sure they had blessed you, albeit even the perfect man could have his flaws.
It's nothing he did on purpose, nor something he would force upon you — it must've been your stubbornness that led to this outcome.
Currently strolling around the mountain with him, you felt as if all strength had left you. Gyomei was not one to complain when you asked him for a break, searching for a nearby tree stump to let you rest.
Nevertheless, he couldn't stop the concern overtaking him when you didn't feel better after an hour. He knelt down beside you.
"My love, could it be that you've spent too much energy on this?" He asked, blind eyes locking on yours. You knew you couldn't lie to him, especially when his eyes seemed to look right into your soul.
"I'm just a bit tired.. We walked for quite some time." You answer, his brows twitching down for only a second. What seemed like an endless walk for you, was less than a warm-up for him.
Realization dawned on the giant rather quickly. He hadn't taken into account how differently you would perceive this, how a mere lift of his finger could have you spent for hours.
"Forgive me, my love. I should have been more careful." He admits, strong hand moving to hold your leg. He took your shoe off with the other, massaging your feet.
"It's really not that bad." You try to reassure him, but he doesn't stop. You watch as he takes off your other shoe as well, putting them to the side.
"Do not forget that I know when you're lying. Your feet are swollen." He responds, letting go to stand up straight. "It is getting cold, we should return before you catch a fever."
Despite the soreness in your feet, you try to stand up. The promise of sitting in your warm home was enough to get you going. However, you were stopped before you could even start.
"You did not mean to walk back home, right?" The question makes you pause, looking up at him with confusion. "But you said—"
"I am a responsible husband." He interrupts you, leaning down to hold onto your body. You gasp in surprise, suddenly being lifted into his strong hold. "I could never allow you to walk back in such a state. Your body needs rest."
"Gyomei, I'm heavy!" You complain, knowing that you've gained weight with the child growing inside your belly. He doesn't accept it, picking up your shoes before properly holding you again.
"Your weight is no concern of mine, my love. The only importance lies with your comfort and the safety of our child."
You don't argue after that, wrapping your arms around his neck in an attempt to cuddle closer.
Somehow he always had you growing shy, even when he didn't try to.
Summary: When you decide to stop by to check on some kids one of them says a sentence which would change your life.
Warnings: Soelling, Grammar mistakes, ooc i think, weird,
I DONT GIVE CONSENT TO PUT MY WORK IN AI OR CLAIM IT IS YOURS I DONT ALLOW U TO UPLOAD MY WORK IN ANOTHER PLATFORM WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!
You often helped care for the children in the village clinic—setting broken arms, mixing teas, changing bandages with a calm gentleness that the kids trusted more than most grown-ups. One child in particular, little Kaoru, had taken a liking to you. They refused to drink bitter medicine unless you handed it to them.
Today, as you knelt beside Kaoru’s cot, applying salve to a skinned elbow, you heard the telltale silence behind you—the kind of hush that only Michikatsu Tsugikuni brought with him.
You didn’t even turn around. You knew his footsteps by now. Slow. Deliberate. Steady like a mountain. You continued wrapping Kaoru’s bandage with the ease of familiarity.
The boy peeked around your side, wide-eyed. Then he leaned closer and whispered—loudly—into your ear:
“Your scary husband came to pick you up again.”
You froze.
Your hands paused mid-wrap, fingers twitching slightly.
“He’s always scowling, but he stares at you like… like how Papa looks at Mama.”
You felt your ears burn.
“Kaoru,” you whispered, mortified. “He’s not—he’s not my—”
But then you made the mistake of glancing over your shoulder.
Michikatsu stood in the doorway, arms folded beneath his sleeves. His expression was unreadable. Silent. Watchful.
And most damning of all?
He didn’t say anything to correct the child.
Not even a twitch of protest.
Your entire face heated.
“I—I’m done here,” you said quickly, gently tapping Kaoru’s nose with a soft smile to distract him. “Rest well. I’ll bring you sweets tomorrow.”
You walked toward the door, feeling his eyes follow your every step.
Once outside, you hissed under your breath, “You heard that, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Michikatsu said simply.
“And you didn’t deny it?”
He blinked. “Should I have?”
You choked on air.
“I—He’s a child—!”
Michikatsu turned to walk beside you, his tone quiet as ever.
“Children often say what adults are too afraid to.”
You didn’t speak again the whole walk back, too busy clutching your satchel and trying to keep your heart from flying out of your chest.
Michikatsu? Just walked a little closer than usual.
You’d been helping at the mountain village clinic for weeks now—healing wounds, organizing supplies, and distracting rowdy kids with treats when their bandages were changed. You were a familiar face to most of the townspeople by now. But for some reason, one child—Nanako—was a little too observant for their age.
That morning, you were crouched beside her, gently cleaning the scrape on her knee. She winced, but stayed still, watching you with big eyes. Just as you were finishing the wrap, you heard the door slide open behind you.
Your body tensed.
You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Heavy boots. Short temper. That controlled-but-borderline-impatient presence…
Sanemi Shinazugawa had arrived.
Nanako leaned in toward you conspiratorially and whispered way too loud:
“Your scary husband came to pick you up again.”
You stiffened.
“H-he’s not my—!” you began, flustered, but your words died in your throat as Sanemi stomped up to the two of you.
“Oi,” he grumbled, frowning at Nanako—but his scowl wasn’t as harsh as usual. “You done yet?”
Nanako blinked up at him with zero fear. “You always come get her. My mom says husbands should walk their wives home, too.”
Sanemi opened his mouth to argue—but stopped.
He looked at you. You were bright red. Clearly mortified.
Nanako was smiling proudly, as if she’d just solved some adult mystery.
And Sanemi?
He just… shrugged.
“Tch. Whatever.”
That was it.
No denial. No flustered correction. He just turned and walked out of the clinic like he hadn’t just committed social arson on your entire life.
You quickly grabbed your satchel, gave Nanako a stunned smile, and followed after him, trying not to combust.
“Why didn’t you correct her?!” you hissed when you caught up, heart pounding.
Sanemi shot you a sidelong glance, smirking just slightly.
“Didn’t feel like lyin’.”
You tripped over your own feet.
“Wha—Sanemi!”
“What?” he grunted, hands in his pockets. “Not my fault I show up and walk you home all the damn time.”
You gawked. “That doesn’t mean we’re—!”
But then he paused, looking slightly away, the tips of his ears going pink.
“Unless you want it to mean somethin’.”
You stood there in stunned silence.
Sanemi didn’t stop walking. But he slowed down enough for you to catch up—and when your hand brushed his by accident, he didn’t pull away.
You had been volunteering at a nearby village clinic, tending to bruises, scrapes, fevers, and sometimes even just broken toys and lonely hearts. The children adored you, especially little Aiko—a wild-haired, snack-loving six-year-old who had decided you were the greatest person alive.
One day, just as you finished tying a bandage on Aiko’s elbow and bribing her with a roasted sweet potato, the clinic’s sliding door slammed open.
“HELLO!” Kyojuro Rengoku’s voice boomed through the entire room like a sunrise with lungs. “I HAVE COME TO ESCORT YOU HOME!”
You jumped so hard you nearly dropped the sweet potato. Aiko blinked at the tall, flame-haired slayer standing proudly in the doorway with his arms crossed like a victorious hero.
Then she turned to you.
“Your loud husband came to pick you up again.”
You froze. The nurse in the corner choked on her tea.
“Wha—he’s not my—! I mean, I’m not—!” you stammered, face heating up like a kettle left on the stove.
Kyojuro blinked.
Then, slowly, he turned to Aiko and placed a hand over his heart.
“Truly… you have excellent perception, young one.”
Your soul left your body.
“K-Kyojuro!” you whisper-shrieked, mortified.
Aiko giggled, absolutely delighted, and waved at him. “Do you live in the volcano?”
Kyojuro beamed. “No! But my heart burns as hot as one!”
Aiko gasped. “So romantic.”
You gave up.
As you walked home with him, hiding your face in your sleeves, you muttered, “You’re supposed to correct her…”
Kyojuro laughed warmly beside you.
“But she wasn’t entirely wrong!”
You nearly tripped on a rock.
“…What?!”
He smiled, looking at the path ahead.
“If the idea flusters you that much… perhaps it’s not so strange.”
You stared at him. “Kyojuro—”
But he turned to you, gaze soft and sincere, the usual fire in his eyes burning a little gentler now.
“One day,” he said. “Let’s make that child’s assumption a reality.”
Your heart stopped.
And yet… you found yourself smiling the whole way home.
You were well-known in the village outskirts as the quiet healer who always kept her sleeves rolled and her words soft. Children would often wander into your clinic—not always because they were hurt, but because they liked the smell of herbs and the warm rice cakes you made when you weren’t working.
One child in particular, a blunt little boy named Daichi, came almost every day.
Today was no different. You were helping Daichi tie his sandals when the shadows outside your clinic shifted. You didn’t even need to look.
You felt him before you saw him.
Yoriichi’s presence always arrived like dusk—soft, certain, but vast. The kind of silence that pressed gently against your skin and made your breath still.
When you looked up, there he was. Standing by the doorway, face unreadable, eyes gentle but unreadably deep, as though he’d been carved from quiet itself.
Daichi stared at him.
Then he turned to you with a very serious expression.
“Your scary husband came to pick you up again.”
You went stiff. Blood rushed to your cheeks so fast you nearly toppled over.
“H-He’s not my—!” you stammered, but when you looked up at Yoriichi, your voice caught in your throat.
He didn’t look surprised.
Or flustered.
In fact… he almost looked thoughtful.
“Yoriichi—” you began, ready to correct the child for both your sakes.
But then, calmly, quietly, Yoriichi stepped closer and offered Daichi a rice cracker.
“You should tie the right strap a little tighter,” he said gently.
Daichi took the cracker, nodded, and left without another word.
You stared at the door after him, brain still stuttering.
“…Yoriichi?”
He looked at you.
“I didn’t mind.”
You blinked.
He studied your expression for a moment before lowering his head.
“If being seen beside you… if being mistaken as your husband troubles you, I’ll take care to walk further behind next time.”
You shook your head too fast. “N-No! That’s not—! I mean—it doesn’t trouble me—”
You stopped when he gently tilted his head.
“Then… would it trouble you,” he asked softly, “if they were right?”
Your heart leapt into your throat.
He didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened—like the first warmth of sunlight on a frost-covered path.
“When I think of peace, I think of your voice.”
You could barely breathe. Your hands shook where they rested in your sleeves.
“…You’re not scary at all,” you whispered.
He nodded.
“But I would be, for you.”
BONUS: LIFE PLAN
You were just trying to babysit.
It was a quiet afternoon, the kid had been unusually well-behaved, and you were feeling oddly optimistic… until they ran up to you, waving a wrinkled piece of paper like it was a national treasure.
“I made this for you!” they grinned.
You smiled, expecting the usual: maybe a poorly drawn bird, or a weird stick figure doing a backflip.
What you got… was chaos.
Crayon chaos.
You.
Sanemi.
In full wedding attire.
He was wearing a formal kimono, scar scars and all, standing tall beside you — who, in this drawing, wore a bright smile and a wedding veil. There was a baby in your arms. Another one riding on his shoulders. He was smiling. Smiling.
Hearts. Everywhere. Red and pink. The sun had a smiley face.
“This is your future!” the child declared.
You choked on your own spit.
At that exact moment, Sanemi walked in behind you, towel slung over his shoulder from training, sweaty, annoyed — and then he paused.
Dead silence.
He stared.
You didn’t dare look up.
“…The hell is this?” he asked slowly, voice dangerously unreadable.
“I—uh—! They drew it!” you squeaked.
The child shoved it toward him proudly. “You’re married and have two babies!”
Sanemi blinked. “We—what.”
You braced yourself for an explosion. A scream. A sarcastic laugh.
But instead…
He took the drawing.
Stared at it.
Didn’t say a word.
Just stared.
Then..
“…You gave me a full set of hair in this,” he muttered under his breath, oddly quiet.
You peeked up. “W-What?”
He turned it slightly. “Even gave me eyebrows.”
“THAT’S YOUR TAKEAWAY?!”
The child beamed. “Do you like it?”
Sanemi scoffed, face a little pink. “It’s ridiculous.”
But he didn’t give it back.
In fact… he folded it and tucked it into his haori.
You squinted. “Wait—are you keeping it?!”
“‘S for evidence,” he grumbled. “So I can interrogate you later.”
But you could still see the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. And later, you caught him looking at the drawing again when he thought no one was watching.
