A/N: This is definitely gonna be multiple parts because I don't want to make it too long, but I hope y'all enjoy it
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Masterlist
----𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾--------𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾----
Giyu Tomioka
Hours passed, and the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training ground. (Y/N) was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching from the exertion, but there was a fire in her heart. She could feel herself improving, the movements becoming more instinctual, the energy flowing more freely.
“Very well done for your first day,” Sakonji said, a hint of pride in his voice. “But remember, this is just the beginning. You have much to learn.”
As (Y/N) wiped her brow and took a deep breath, she noticed a figure approaching from the direction of the village. The silhouette was tall and imposing, and as the figure drew closer, (Y/N) recognized him immediately. Giyu Tomioka, the Water Hashira, was a legend in his own right, known for his unparalleled skill and stoic demeanor.
“Master Urokodaki,” Giyu greeted, his voice steady and calm. He turned his gaze to (Y/N), his dark eyes piercing yet gentle. “And you must be his granddaughter.”
(Y/N) felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. She had heard stories about Giyu, tales of his bravery and unwavering resolve in the face of danger. Meeting him in person was both an honor and a daunting experience.
“Yes, I am,” she replied, trying to maintain her composure. “I’m training in Water Breathing.”
Giyu nodded, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “I can see that. Your grandfather speaks highly of you. You have the potential to become a great swordsman.”
(Y/N) felt a flush of warmth at his words, a mixture of pride and determination swelling within her. “Thank you, Hashira Tomioka. I want to do my grandfather proud.”
He regarded her for a moment, his expression contemplative. “The path of a swordsman is not easy. You will face challenges that test your resolve. But if you stay true to yourself and the teachings of Water Breathing, you will find your way.”
His words resonated deeply with (Y/N). She had always been aware of the dangers that lurked beyond the village, the demons that threatened the lives of innocent people. Training was not just about mastering techniques; it was about protecting those she loved.
Muichiro Tokito
As (Y/N) stepped outside, the mist enveloped them like a comforting blanket. The air was cool, and the sounds of the village waking up surrounded them. (Y/N) took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dew-kissed earth and the faint aroma of breakfast being prepared in nearby homes. It was moments like these that reminded (Y/N) of the lives they fought to protect—simple, everyday lives that thrived in the shadow of darkness.
As they made their way toward the outskirts, (Y/N) felt a tug of intuition, a sense that they were being drawn to something—or someone. The feeling was vague, almost ethereal, but it was enough to quicken their pace. The village began to fade behind them, replaced by the dense thicket of trees that bordered the wilderness. The mist thickened here, swirling around the trunks of ancient trees, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.
Muichiro, still lost in thought, had begun to wander deeper into the mist, his feet carrying him along a path he had walked countless times before. It was a path that led to the training grounds, a place where he could hone his skills and confront the lingering shadows of his past. But today, the mist felt different, heavier somehow, as if it were alive and breathing around him.
As he moved forward, he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him. It was a sound that broke through the stillness, drawing his attention. He turned slightly, his sharp gaze piercing through the fog. There, emerging from the mist, was (Y/N). The sight was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Muichiro had seen (Y/N) around the village before, their determination and skill evident even from a distance.
(Y/N) paused, their eyes meeting Muichiro’s. There was a moment of recognition, a silent understanding that passed between them. In that instant, the weight of their respective burdens seemed to lighten, if only for a moment. (Y/N) took a step forward, breaking the silence that hung in the air.
“Muichiro Tokito,” (Y/N) said, their voice steady but laced with respect. “I’ve heard stories about you. The Mist Hashira. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Muichiro regarded (Y/N) with a calm expression, his demeanor still cool and composed. “And you are (Y/N) (L/N), I’ve seen you train. You have potential.”
The compliment was simple, yet it carried weight. He was known to be forgetful but he had remembered them. (Y/N) felt a surge of pride at Muichiro’s acknowledgment. “Thank you. I’m hoping to prove myself on this mission. I heard about the demon sighting near the village.”
Muichiro nodded, his interest piqued. “I was aware of it. I was heading in that direction myself. We should go together.”
The invitation was unexpected, but (Y/N) felt a rush of excitement. “Together? That would be great. I could use the guidance of a Hashira.”
Tengen Uzui
The moon hung high in the sky, a luminous pearl casting silver light over the quiet village. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant sound of a flowing river. It was a night like any other, yet for (Y/N) (L/N), a kunoichi it felt different. Tonight, she was on a mission, a task that required both stealth and precision.
(Y/N) moved through the shadows with the grace of a wisp of smoke. Her dark hair flowed behind her like a raven's wing, and her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the surroundings as she made her way toward the outskirts of the village. She was tasked with gathering intelligence on a rumored demon sighting, a creature that had been terrorizing nearby settlements. The elders of her village had entrusted her with this mission, knowing her skills in stealth and combat were unmatched.
As she approached the designated meeting point, a secluded grove where the trees twisted like ancient sentinels, (Y/N) felt a chill run down her spine. The air was heavy, and the silence felt almost oppressive. She knew she was not alone. The whispers of the night carried secrets, and she was determined to uncover them.
Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes drew her attention. (Y/N) crouched low, her heart racing as she prepared for an ambush. The figure that emerged from the shadows was not a demon but a man, tall and imposing, with silver hair that shimmered even in the dim light. He wore a distinctive haori adorned with intricate patterns, and his presence exuded an aura of confidence and power.
“Tengen Uzui,” (Y/N) muttered under her breath, recognizing the Sound Hashira from the tales she had heard. He was a legendary figure, known for his flamboyant style and unmatched combat skills. But why was he here, in her village?
“Quite the observant one, aren’t you?” Tengen’s voice was smooth, yet it carried an underlying intensity. He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. “I didn’t expect to find a kunoichi lurking in these woods. What brings you here?”
(Y/N) straightened, her instincts urging her to be cautious. “I could ask you the same, Hashira. Are you here to hunt the demon?”
Sanemi Shinazugawa
As (Y/N) pressed forward, she heard the faint clash of metal echoing through the trees, followed by a guttural roar that sent a shiver down her spine. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding not with fear but with the adrenaline of impending battle. Bursting into a small clearing bathed in moonlight, she found herself face-to-face with the demon—a hulking figure with jagged claws and eyes that glowed like embers. It lunged at her, but before she could react, a blur of motion swept in from the shadows.
Sanemi landed with a thud, his blade flashing in the pale light as he intercepted the demon's attack. "Out of the way!" he barked, his voice rough and commanding, carrying the edge of someone who expected immediate obedience. He moved with ferocious speed, his Wind Breathing techniques whipping the air into a frenzy, creating gusts that stirred the leaves around them. The demon recoiled, momentarily stunned, but Sanemi didn't pause; he pressed the assault, his strikes precise and brutal.
(Y/N) stumbled back, her eyes widening as she took in the newcomer. She had heard tales of the Hashira, the pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps, but seeing one in action was entirely different. This man—Sanemi, she realized from the distinctive markings on his uniform—fought like a tempest, his white hair tousled by the winds he commanded. Yet, there was something raw and unguarded in his expression, a flicker of pain beneath the anger that mirrored her own buried sorrows. She shook off her surprise and raised her blade, ready to join the fight. "I'm not just standing here," she called out, her tone steady and resolute, though a hint of defiance crept in. "That thing's mine to handle too."
Sanemi glanced at her briefly, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if weighing whether she was a hindrance or an ally. "Fine, but don't get killed," he muttered, his words clipped but not unkind. He shifted his stance, allowing her an opening to strike. Together, they fell into a makeshift rhythm, (Y/N)'s more fluid, adaptive style complementing Sanemi's explosive power. She targeted the demon's legs, aiming to unbalance it, while he went for the vital spots with his wind-enhanced slashes.
The battle intensified, the demon regenerating faster than either anticipated, its roars echoing through the night. (Y/N) felt a surge of energy as she landed a solid hit, slicing through one of its arms, but the creature swung back with a force that sent her skidding across the ground. Pain shot through her side, but she pushed herself up, refusing to yield. Sanemi noticed her fall and redirected his attack, a powerful gust from his blade forcing the demon back. "You're tougher than you look," he admitted gruffly, a rare acknowledgment that slipped out between breaths.
As the fight wore on, the two of them circled the demon, their movements syncing in a way that felt almost instinctive. (Y/N) caught Sanemi's eye for a split second, and in that moment, she saw beyond the fierce exterior—a shared understanding of loss and determination. But before they could land the final blow, the demon let out a piercing shriek and retreated into the shadows, vanishing into the forest with unnatural speed.
Obanai Iguro
As the Tsuguko of Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira, Y/N had spent the past few months training rigorously, honing their skills and preparing for the inevitable battles that lay ahead. The life of a Demon Slayer was not one of tranquility, and the serenity of the village felt like a fleeting dream. Y/N had always admired the strength and compassion of their mentor, Mitsuri, who had a heart as fierce as her swordsmanship. Yet, the weight of expectation rested heavily on Y/N’s shoulders. They were determined to prove themselves worthy, not only to Mitsuri but to the legacy of the Demon Slayers.
On this particular evening, Y/N had decided to take a break from their training regimen. The sun was setting, and the vibrant colors of dusk painted the sky in shades of pink and orange. They walked through the village, their thoughts drifting like the clouds above. It was then that they spotted a figure standing at the edge of the fields, silhouetted against the fading light.
Obanai Iguro, the Serpent Hashira, was a man of few words and even fewer companions. His reputation preceded him; tales of his fierce determination and unmatched skill in battle were whispered among the ranks of the Demon Slayers. Y/N had heard of him, of course, but had never encountered him in person. The way he carried himself spoke volumes—his posture was rigid, almost serpentine, and his gaze was sharp, as if he could see through the very fabric of reality.
Curiosity piqued, Y/N approached cautiously. “Hello, Hashira Iguro,” they greeted, trying to sound confident despite the flutter of nerves in their stomach. “What brings you to Fujikawa?”
Obanai turned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Y/N. “I’m here to observe,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “Mitsuri has been training you. I wanted to see if you are worthy of her guidance.”
The weight of his words settled heavily on Y/N’s shoulders. They had always respected Obanai from afar, but now, standing before him, they felt the pressure of his scrutiny. “I’m doing my best,” Y/N said, their voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. “Mitsuri believes in me, and I won’t let her down.”
Obanai’s expression remained inscrutable. “Belief is not enough,” he stated, his tone matter-of-fact. “You must prove it through action. Training is essential, but so is understanding the nature of the demons you face.”
Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “I understand. I’ve been studying their movements and behaviors, trying to anticipate their attacks. But it’s difficult. They’re unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable is an understatement,” Obanai replied, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Demons are cunning. They thrive on chaos. You must learn to embrace the chaos, to become one with it. Only then will you truly understand how to fight them.”
Y/N felt a spark of inspiration igniting within them. “What do you suggest I do?” they asked, eager to learn from the seasoned Hashira.
“Join me for a night of training,” Obanai said, his voice steady. “I will show you how to adapt to the chaos. You may find it enlightening.”
Kyojuro Rengoku
Kyojuro had just finished a long day of training, his muscles still tingling from the exertion. He stood on the balcony of his modest home, a quaint structure with wooden beams and paper lanterns that flickered in the twilight. The town was quiet, save for the occasional sound of laughter from children playing in the streets and the distant chatter of neighbors winding down after a long day. Kyojuro took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, his mind momentarily free of the burdens that came with his title.
His gaze drifted over to the neighboring house, where he had seen a glimpse of movement earlier. A figure was busy tending to a small garden, the soft rustle of leaves punctuating the stillness of the evening. Kyojuro squinted, trying to make out the details. It was a young person, perhaps in their early twenties, with dark hair that caught the fading light. There was a certain grace in their movements, a rhythm that suggested familiarity with the earth and its offerings.
Curiosity piqued, Kyojuro leaned over the balcony railing, his heart racing slightly. He had been living in this town for a while now, but he had yet to meet his neighbor. The thought of introducing himself sent a flicker of excitement through him. After all, even a Hashira needed friends, didn’t he?
Gathering his resolve, Kyojuro descended the steps of his home, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor. As he approached the garden, he could see the figure more clearly. It was (Y/N) (L/N), a name he had heard whispered among the townsfolk. They were known for their kindness and gentle demeanor, always willing to lend a hand to those in need. Kyojuro had witnessed their acts of compassion from afar, but he had never had the chance to speak to them directly.
“Hello!” Kyojuro called out, his voice warm and inviting.
(Y/N) turned, surprise flickering across their features before morphing into a friendly smile. “Oh, hello! I didn’t see you there!” They brushed their hands on their gardening apron, a smudge of dirt marking their cheek. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you!”
“I’m Kyojuro Rengoku,” he replied, offering a slight bow, a gesture of respect and camaraderie. “I live next door.”
“I know! I’ve seen you around,” (Y/N) said, their eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You’re the Flame Hashira, right? I’ve heard stories about you.”
Kyojuro felt a warmth spread through him at their words. It was always strange to hear his title spoken so casually, as if it were merely a part of his identity rather than a weight he carried. “Yes, that’s me. But please, just Kyojuro is fine. Titles can be so formal.”
“Alright, Kyojuro it is!” (Y/N) grinned, their smile infectious. “What brings you over to my humble garden?”
“I saw you working and thought it would be a good opportunity to introduce myself,” he said, gesturing to the vibrant flowers blooming around them. “Your garden is beautiful. You have a real talent for it.”
“Thank you! I’ve been working on it for a while now,” (Y/N) said, pride evident in their voice. “Gardening is a great way to unwind after a long day. Plus, it gives me a chance to connect with nature.”
Gyomei Himejima
The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting a soft golden hue over the Butterfly Mansion. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds created a serene backdrop, one that felt almost sacred. Y/N Kocho stood at the entrance of the mansion, her eyes scanning the horizon as she took in the beauty of the early morning. It was a ritual she cherished, a moment of peace before the day’s duties began.
As the older sister of Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira, Y/N had inherited not only her twin sister Kanae’s striking features but also Shinobu’s unwavering dedication to the Demon Slayer Corps. The Butterfly Mansion was a haven for wounded slayers, a place where healing and hope intertwined. Y/N had taken it upon herself to assist in the care of the injured, often working alongside Shinobu and the other members of the corps.
Today, however, felt different. There was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air, a sense that something significant was about to unfold. Y/N brushed her long, dark hair behind her shoulder and stepped inside, the scent of medicinal herbs and freshly brewed tea greeting her like an old friend.
“Good morning, Y/N!” called out a voice from the other room. It was Kanao Tsuyuri, Shinobu’s apprentice, her cheerful disposition lighting up the space. Kanao was busy preparing a tray of herbal tea, her nimble fingers moving deftly as she arranged the delicate cups.
“Morning, Kanao!” Y/N replied, her voice warm and inviting. She joined Kanao at the table, helping to set out the cups. “Is Shinobu awake yet?”
Kanao shook her head, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “She’ll probably sleep in again. You know how she is after a long mission.” Y/N chuckled softly. “She’ll be up when she smells the tea.”
As they worked, the two young women exchanged stories and laughter, their bond growing stronger with each shared moment. The Butterfly Mansion was not just a place of healing; it was a sanctuary of friendship, where bonds were forged in the fires of adversity.
Just as they finished preparing the tea, a soft knock echoed through the hall. The sound was gentle yet firm, a contrast to the usual hurried footsteps of the slayers who passed through the mansion. Y/N exchanged a curious glance with Kanao before moving to open the door.
Standing there was a figure cloaked in a dark haori, the fabric heavy and worn. His presence was imposing, even more so because he was blind. Himejima Gyomei, the Stone Hashira, towered over Y/N, his muscular frame casting a long shadow across the threshold. Despite his blindness, there was an undeniable strength in his posture, a quiet confidence that demanded respect.
“Good morning,” Y/N greeted, her voice steady despite the surprise of his visit. “How can I help you?”
Gyomei tilted his head slightly, as if attuning his senses to the environment around him. “I seek the Insect Hashira,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder. “I have come to discuss a matter of urgency.”
Y/N felt a rush of excitement mixed with apprehension. The Stone Hashira was known for his immense strength and unwavering resolve, but he was also a man of few words, often shrouded in an air of mystery. “Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside to allow him entry.
As he entered, the atmosphere shifted, the air thickening with the weight of his presence. Y/N led him to the main room, where the sunlight poured in through the open windows, illuminating the space with a warm glow. Kanao followed closely behind, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected visitor.
“Is Shinobu here?” Gyomei asked, his voice steady. “She should be waking up soon,” Y/N replied, gesturing toward the adjoining room. “Would you like some tea while you wait?”
Gyomei nodded, accepting the offer. Y/N poured him a cup, the steam rising in delicate wisps. As she handed it to him, she couldn’t help but notice the way he held the cup with such care, his fingers brushing against the porcelain as if he were savoring the moment.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a sip. “This is good.” Y/N felt a blush creep across her cheeks, pleased by his compliment.
The 21-Year-Old Hashira Trio | Height, Presence, and a Very Good Day of Shooting
After my previous post about the height comparison between Obanai Iguro and myself, I wanted to share another little story from this shoot.
This time, it was not only about Obanai alone, but about how he looks when standing beside two other Hashira of the same generation.
Giyu, Sanemi, and Obanai.
All three are 21 years old in the original story, yet when they stand together, the difference in height, build, and overall presence becomes incredibly striking. That contrast was something I really enjoyed seeing through these photographs.
Even though we were all wearing Corps uniforms, each silhouette felt completely different.
Giyu has that calm, balanced presence.
Sanemi carries a much sharper, heavier physical impact.
And Obanai, standing beside them, becomes even smaller and more delicate-looking in the best possible way.
The size difference was honestly very photogenic, and I loved how clearly it came through in these shots.
What I also liked was the mood of the session itself.
Some photos feel formal and almost like commemorative portraits, while others feel much softer, like a small glimpse of these three sharing a quiet moment between battles. The dango photos especially became some of my favorites, because they added a playful, human side to the trio.
It reminded me again that photographs are not only about accuracy in costume, but also about balance, atmosphere, and the way different characters change each other simply by standing in the same frame.
For this shoot,
Giyu Tomioka: Karo-san
Sanemi Shinazugawa: Akaneya-san
I am very grateful to both of them for joining me and helping bring this 21-year-old Hashira trio to life.
This time, we enjoyed the classic Corps uniform version.
Next time, I would love to photograph the three of them again in a Kimetsu Academy teacher setting, or take them out on another location shoot with a completely different atmosphere.
There is definitely more I want to do with this trio.
hi I love your posts, they are pretty cool! I also like how you characterize people, they feel accurate.
I was wondering how you feel about some people saying Kagaya and Amane were using and manipulating the demon slayers, like taking advantage of Muichiro for example. Do you think that's true or not?
NO. AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. And i want to state from the beginning that i am convinced that any of the Hashira would rather commit seppuku before watching the Master struggle with a sword in his hand.
KNY - WERE KAGAYA AND AMANE USING THE DEMON SLAYERS ? - my thoughts
1. the Ubuyashiki family s sole reason for living is defeating Muzan. As we know, Kagaya is Muzan s distant relative as Muzan was related to the Ubuyashiki family when he was still human. He says so himself right before he dies - this is why the Ubuyashiki family is cursed and will be until Muzan is defeated. They have assembled the demon slayer Corps themselves as they took the repsonsibility to eradicate the demons and to fight Muzan, who has come from their bloodline, and the Corps has existed for over 1000 years solely because of the Ubuyasikis, and they have funded, organized and lead the entire corps for generations. So, they are not taking advantage of the slayers, they are leading them and funding them and organizing all the missions that the Corps is working around. This has been their purpose for 1000 years, gathering and training the slayers to protect humanity from the monster their own bloodline has produced.
2. It is well known Kagaya and Amane s only goal was to get to Muzan and defeat him by all means necessary, and bring down as many demons as they can until that point. I don t think they took advantage of Muichiro by finding him and his brother and telling them who they actually are and what they inherit; i think their intention was solely focused on the bigger purpose - and acquiring a Hashira of this heritage and talent and bringing Yoriichi s blood back in the Corps was a very important step. They also probably thought it s fair that the children know about their own bloodline and skills, giving them a chance at greatness. I think this is available for all children that were recruited and permitted to fight in the corps - there was a war going on and they needed soldiers for it anyways. The situation was demons vs humanity, not strictly demons vs Kagaya, so the battle was not only about him. Kagaya was a vessel for humanity - a sacrifice - because his only purpose was to lead and fight a battle for the sake of humanity, not only for the sake of himself. And Kagaya and Amane have cared for and protected their children (the slayers and the Hashira, as they call them) the way they could. I think they were sorry for what they had to do. Kagaya even memorized all the names and graves of the fallen slayers, visited them all at the Butterfly Mansion when he could still walk and has begged Gyomei on his dying breath to protect the others (,,don t let any of my beloved children die,,)
3. Kagaya and Amane have made the final and most important sacrifice in order to get Muzan and to set the Pillars in motion - they did use themselves as bait and died for it along with two of their children. ,,Using,, the slayers would mean watching them get killed from afar, while Kagaya and Amane sacrificed themselves and began the final fight this way. I think te Ubuyashiki family has always been the center of the fight, for 1000 years, which is why Muzan wanted to find them and why they were so well hidden. Everyone knew that if they fall and are eliminated from the fight, all humans go down with them.
4. They suffered as much as the slayers did because, while not bleeding in battle, they were cursed to have every male heir die before 30, while being sick their entire life and leading the Organization since frail ages like 12 or 13. The family survived like this for more than 1000 years with the sole purpose of leading the Demon Slayer Corps.
5. The Ubuyashiki family is a noble family, probably close to royalty, which gave them the wealth and influence to be able to create and keep the Corps fighting for so long, even when it almost got eradicated during history. I think it s expected that they don t fight or wield a sword in battle , especially in gruesome fights such as those against demons.
6. and maybe the most important argument - Sanemi, being the angry creature that he is, has lashed out at Kagaya the first time he met him after he became a Hashira, insulting him and asking if he s comfortable watching the slayers bleed and die while he only directs them and commands them from afar, to which Kagaya smiled and replied gently that he understands, and that has tried to hold a sword but his sickness won t let him fight. Then, he himself apologized for not giving Sanemi time to grieve and gave him his respects for Masachika by name which made Sanemi cry and give him his loyalty forever.
As i said, i will never consider them as anything less than heroes and Kagaya is the definition of a proper leader as it is well known that any slayer at any point would ve given their own life for him if need be. And i ll never forget how Muichiro remembered Kagaya as his father and how Kagaya and Amane both sat next to Muichiro until he recovered 😭😭😭
This was my take on this, i really appreciate this ask and hope to get more like this one because i love analyzing and putting everything into perspective so thank you !!!
(Warnings for Yandere themes and Obanai threatening someone.)
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The night sky above was filled with stars twinkling away like tiny diamonds. The night sky dark like someone had blown out the sun. The summer night air warm and perfect with a cool breeze. The crickets singing away into the peaceful night as fireflies glowed brightly and danced in the air between the moonlight. The lush gardens full of beautiful flowers filling the air with their sweet scent.
Everything was peaceful and calm. Or it should've been.
So why was your heart beating a million miles a minute? Why was your body frozen to the spot? Why did fear and dread full you so? Simple. It was because of the feeling of a calloused hand holding yours and the cold sting of gold as the metal band was slipped onto your ring finger.
"I-It looks beautiful on you," the man stammered red faced and couldn't bring him to look at your face which was good because he might've seen your horrified expression. Too bashful in the moment. "I-I didn't know what ring you preferred b-but Tengen said hold goes with anything so..I mean it's not the worst choice right?"
The coldness of that ring stung your skin as you could only stare at it in fear. This was the last thing you wanted to happen. Why? Because you had intended to BREAK UP with Obanai today. Your relationship with him was on the verge of being non-existent anyways.
Of course it didn't start out that way at all. In the beginning of it the man had been rather shy if not very polite. You still remembered how the two of you met through you being a healer at the Butterfly Mansion, often helping with fixing his wounds when he walked in and then bidding him goodbye as he walked out. It wasn't really anything special. He understood that it was vital so he made no fuss when he had to take his uniform off for you to treat him. As long as you didn't try to get his bandages off he'd just stay quiet and avert his eyes until you were finished. Standard routine.
In fact he barely spoke a word to you, you felt like you were talking to yourself whenever you tried to engage with him. Little did you know that it was more than just feeling awkward around you. As Shinobu told you bluntly after a recent check up-
"Haven't you ever noticed he's only quiet and shy around you? It's because he has a big crush on you."
Obanai?? Having a crush on you?? That seemed highly unlikely. You assumed he was just awkward stripping in front of a girl even for medical reasons, but now you recalled how much he'd often go red around you. So you decided to test this out the next time you saw him, which was only two days later when he showed up with a nasty gash on his forearm you bandaged up. He stayed quiet as usual only looking at the wall as you wrapped bandages around his arm.
"....Mr. Obanai?" He hummed still looking at the wall. "You're very cute."
What followed was a long pause as the man froze under your grip before his head snapped around to you wide eyed and red faced. "WHAT?!"
"I said you look cute. Would you like to have lunch with me?'
He choked on his own words.
That's how it started but not how it should've been. He was perfectly fine and normal at first. He was very shy and timid In the relationship often not sure how to approach things a lot but did little meaningful gestures like holding the door open for you, shyly asking if he could hold your hand while he was alone, and sometimes he'd bring you small gifts like flowers or a pretty necklace he thought you'd like. You don't know what caused his personality shift all of a sudden. He was super sweet and kind but then it seemed as if something changed within his mind.
"Would you ever be with someone else?"
You paused in pouring him a cup of tea to give him a puzzled look. "What?"
"Just answer my question." His hands were balled into fists already. "I know I'm not the handsomest man in the world. Would you leave me for someone else more.. normal?"
Bewildered you rose a brow. "Iguro, of course not. Cheating is terrible and if I wasn't interested in you I wouldn't be with you now. Why are you asking me this?"
A sigh left his mouth, fists unclenching. "It's nothing."
At the moment you just took it as him being self conscious but it had only gotten steadily worse from there. Obanai had never been a fan of pda before but now he made a display of showing who you were with. It was just shakily holding your hand or sitting very close which you didn't mind but then it became blatant arm around your shoulders to standing in front of you between others basically blocking them with his body to one day he DEMANDED you to hold his arm whenever you two went out together anywhere. This sudden jump in territorial behavior often worsened around Uzui for some strange reason. The Sound Haishira himself seemed bewildered by Obanai's sudden shift.
You chalked it up to him getting more self conscious and relaxed about showing affection now but that quickly changed when the incident happened. It was a small celebration to celebrate Rengoku's birthday. Nothing fancy but a nice distraction from the daily bloodshed. It was there that Uzui after having one too many drinks, had cond up to Obanai and decided to tease him.
"So I heard you got a new lady friend recently?"
"Fuck off, Uzui!!"
"Geez. No need to get mad. I was only asking. You ought to watch that temper of yours or else she might be stolen away-"
Everyone had froze when Obanai with a look of madness on his face took out his sword to brandish it at the equally shocked haishira. "LIKE HELL SHE'D GO WITH YOU!!! YOU BETTER WATCH WHAT YOU FUCKING SAY AROUND ME!!"
You were shocked as well as everyone else present watching the spectacle that was broken up by Sanemi holding a hissing violently thrashing Obanai under his arms and dragging him away from the many eyes staring at him. And you. You were MORTIFIED at what happened. And you needed to have a serious talk with him about this escalation in behavior.. Unfortunately you didn't get a chance to before Obanai was called before Ubuyashiki. No one was really sure what the two spoke about but from then on he became quite the recluse. He shut down, avoided anyone and everyone unless forced or obligated to, and you didn't see him at all for a long, long time.
If was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders however. You hadn't even noticed how much stress you had become under while in a relationship with Obanai. The constant looking over your shoulders, possessiveness, exculation, and everything else had just accumulated to the point that you hadn't even noticed it until it literally wasn't there. It felt relieving and actually really nice, you felt guilty about feeling that way about your boyfriend but things had gone too far. It was why after a week of debating and hesitation, you finally decided to make a choice.
You were going to break up with Obanai.
It broke your heart but it was better for you both in the long run. The relationship was already officially over after the incident but you had to tell him so no miscommunications happened plus you thought it was the decent thing to do to talk with him face to face. He deserved that much at least. So one day you decided to go find him since he wasn't coming to you anymore. After looking around you stopped a Kakushi walking by to see if they knew where he went.
"Oh. The Serpent Haishira? Yeah. He's over at the training grounds with Sanemi. I wouldn't bother either of those guys if I were you though. They're crazy."
Heading that way you could pick up on the distant sounds of clashing swords and loud grunts. Arriving at the training grounds you found the two said haishira there in the middle of a strainous exercise. Wooden swords clashed against each other as Sanemi charged forward at insane speeds and swing at the Snake Haishira whom side stepped just in time and swung up his own wooden sword towards his face. The swords clacked together rather loudly echoing into the early night. Your body initially froze upon seeing you soon to be ex boyfriend there but swallowed back the urge to run. No. You came here for a purpose and you'd be leaving here after you told him off.
You decided to wait on the sidelines and wait until they were finished with their training session. It lasted about another twenty minutes as you stood there awkwardly watching the spectacule until it ended when Obanai's training sword broke in half, only then did they stop. Catching their breath and talking to one another. It felt like forever with you standing there for him to notice you. Kaburamaru actually noticed you first turning to you before turning to his master that got Obanai to twist his head around and both of you froze upon seeing each other. You thought Obanai would run off with how much he's been avoiding you but instead you were caught off guard when he just started you. Completely abandoning his talk with Sanemi and practically running towards you.
You froze to the spot in surprise as he just jogged up to you for the first time in a few weeks. "Y/n. You came to see me?" He sounded oddly calm, maybe even a big cheerful.
It took a few seconds for you to regain composure before you cleared your throat and nodded. "Y-Yes. We-We need to talk."
"Oh. That's convenient because I have to talk to you about something too. Let's talk in the gardens." He gestured in a direction. "We can have privacy there."
The thought of you being alone with Obanai right now was scary to you, briefly giving a glance to Sanemi whom was curiously watching you two, before nodding reluctantly in the end. "A-Alright. But only for a few minutes."
He nodded in agreement and followed you over to the gardens. The entire time it felt like the mountain of dread was slowly getting back on your shoulders again with each step you both took but eventually you both got there. The spacious garden was decently sized but empty with no one but you, Obanai, and the snake around his neck and crickets as company. No one to help you if Obanai went ballistic. Well no sense in stalling the inevitable. Nip it in the bud as they say. So you took in a deep breath and turned to Obanai-... Only he wasn't next to you anymore. You blinked until you looked down.
And then you froze once again.
There was Obanai, knelt down one knee, one hand clasps in yours tightly, staring up to you intently and full of desire, other hand holding up something small, circular, and shiny in the little moonlight there was a he presented it to you on a metaphorical silver platter.
"Y/n, I've thought about this a lot and how much my last..*ahem* incident and I realized something. I can't bare the idea of anyone taking you away from me and that fear built in me, but I have a solution. One that'll be sure no one comes between us. Y/n, will you marry me?"
You had been too shocked to speak. Frozen to the spot with your jaw dropped and the practiced speech you had been prepared to give him thrown out the window. Unfortunately he took your fearful silence for stunned happiness and proceeded to slip it on you like shackles chaining you to a giant boulder.
"It goes with your eyes...I know this is sudden but I couldn't barely to think of what could happen if someone else had gotten to you first. You're mine."
Synopsis: Hanako Nagano is the newly appointed Light Hashira, she needs to adjust to her new duties... and win over her fellow pillars. One in particular catches her eye, and she makes it her mission to show him just how worth it he is.
“Light breathing, fourth form,” My arms are aching, my body is tired, and still, there’s more demon necks to cut. “Blinding Scorching Rays.”
Of the six forms in light breathing, the fourth is my favorite to use. Bouncing like a bat loose from a cave, my speed and blade hone into a death beacon that finally, finally, slices through this bastard in one fell swoop. I let silence fall, the flash from my sword fading like a smoky firework on a dark night, the ashes of the demon evaporating with a familiar sizzle.
It’s done. The demon is finally dead. The edge of this southern village is safe, and I sheath my sword in silence. This fight was one of my worst, lasting for longer than many of my past interactions. The missions are getting more difficult, but I feel my skills being challenged, the thought bringing a smile to my face.
“Hanako Nagano!” The Kasugai crow cries from above, his dark wings blending with the shadowy night sky, velvet feathers invisible to my eyes. “To the Ubuyashiki Mansion! To the mansion! Immediately! Hanako Nagano, to the mansion immediately!”
I nod once, breaking into a run north, my legs denied a few more moments of rest with another task motivating me forward. The crow is merely a messenger for the Master, and I’ve long abandoned the irritation that flares when I hear its deep voice beckoning me somewhere new. There’s always another demon to kill; there’s always another village in danger. It’s my honor to keep going, to keep breathing, to push past the exhaustion and swing my sword so a human life is spared from Muzan’s ugly grip.
I can’t save everyone, the realization causing familiar knots to tie within my chest, but I can certainly try.
Hanako Nagano, my name the last gift I bear from my long-fallen parents, will always answer the Master’s instruction. Even if it kills me.
~
Unbelievable. I don’t trust my ears, my fists clenching to hide that my arms can’t stop shaking. “Excuse me, but I think you’ve made a mistake.”
“There is no mistake, Hanako,” The Master repeats, his tone never straying from the visage of kindness and understanding. “Your skills are exemplary, and you’ve proven yourself at every turn. If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”
I don’t believe him, I can’t, not when the Hashira are the very best of their craft. Me? Among their ranks? I don’t question him a second time, but any possible pride I could feel in this moment is shrouded behind a cloud of doubt. I could let him down, I could let down the entire Demon Slayer Corps, they’re putting the wrong person in…
“I’m honored, Master,” I say instead, my voice barely above a whisper, pressing my forehead to my hands in a deep bow. “I don’t know what to say.”
It’s only been two months. Rengoku’s death rattled the entire corps, his loss not only wore a giant hole in our ranks, but he left behind a void that can never be filled. He was an inspiration just by existing, his presence a harbinger of calm and victory, a fire that ignited the courage in every person he met. I could never fill the immense shoes left behind, nor would I want to.
“Your light is more than just a style of fighting. What you could bring to the Hashira is more valuable than what your fear will tell you. Do not sell yourself short, do not compare yourself, and accept the duties that rightfully belong to you.” Master’s smile is broad, his hand resting in the crook of Amane’s arm. “Come, it’s time for you to be formally introduced to the other pillars.”
I thank my gods that he is blind because I can’t fight the frown that pulls at my mouth. I follow, I obey, I listen to the highly complimentary introduction without disputing the Master.
He says phrases like powerful sword skills and strength that supersedes physical prowess, and I can’t believe he’s talking about me. The leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, the man who’s given us all a reason to keep living after demons destroyed our childlike hope and innocent dreams of safety, thinks I’m good enough to sit amongst the most powerful in rank. Eight sets of eyes trail over my skin, study my face, attention snagging on my hair bow and the pattern on the edges of my black haori, and none of them look very impressed.
I don’t blame them. It’s too soon to promote, I could never –
My heaving breaths are interrupted by a beat of silence that’s heavy enough to snap my focus back to the group ahead of me. Did someone say my name?
“I will leave you to get better acquainted, we will meet again in two days’ time to discuss ongoing strategy.” The Master’s chin lifts, his appreciation and pride for the Hashira heavy in his tone. “My continued hope is that you will all blend together, forming the bonds necessary to improve morale and aid all my children in their endeavors.”
“Yes, Master.” The resounding response is full of reverence.
Then we’re alone. Eight Hashira staring at me in the courtyard of this mansion, and I’ve never had so much attention on me like this. At least, not this much attention laced with thick streams of judgement.
Shinazugawa smirks, we’ve worked together before. Because we share the same hair color other slayers have thought we were related somehow. Hate to disappoint, but I don’t know Sanemi any better than I do the highly whispered about Tanjiro Kamado, whom I’ve never met, and I’d much rather share blood with the latter than the wind hashira.
“So, you’re alive?” He barks at me, his arms crossing over his dense chest. “Guess your candle breathing caught the Master’s attention, huh.”
“Light breathing,” I correct flatly with an exhale through my nose. “And it’s good to see you alive, too, I guess.” I shrug, earning a smile from Kanroji seated next to him.
The love hashira is beautiful, both the female pillars are, and it brings me a shred of joy that neither of them has huffed their distaste and left the courtyard with no further acknowledgement.
“HAH!” Uzui shouts, his beads clacking from his mirth as he tilts his head back with a guffaw. “Careful, Shinazugawa, this one doesn’t seem so happy at all.”
The hot-headed wind pillar rolls his eyes as a deep groan leaves his throat. “You’re assuming I give a shit what she thinks.”
My brows raise, and despite the harsh words I find myself amused. Shinazugawa is hard to be around, his speech never containing anything positive or interesting, usually coupling profanity and insult. He’s done both within two minutes of talking with me, and I squash the giggle threatening to bubble out of my mouth.
“Same.” I tilt my head, “But I don’t. So, let’s move on with the introductions.”
Shinazugawa’s eyes widen a bit, his pupils growing small in that threatening way that indicates violence, but Kanroji interrupts him.
“Well, Miss Nagano, you know us, don’t you?” She gestures to her peers, “So why don’t you tell us about you?” She smiles warmly, her shoulders lifting in encouragement.
I do know the names of the hashira. I know their most defining traits, nothing that would put us on a first name basis, nor garner me invites to dinner… but I know enough to agree.
“Well… My name is Hanako, I don’t mind if you use my first name. I’ve been in the corps for two years now.” I nod, that feels like enough.
Kanroji doesn’t look enthused. “Tell us more! Something… interesting?”
Ouch. I wince from her words, and bristle from the layered laughs that echo her sentiment.
“Kanroji… drop it.” A deep voice, slithering like the snake around his neck, hisses from down the line. Obanai’s cold gaze flicks over the love hashira before settling on me, an unimpressed once over making me feel bare and frightened in the same instant.
A soft sigh from my left catches my attention, and Tomioka leans forward on the balls of his feet to stand. “She’s given us enough information. We need to find a better use of our time.”
Double ouch. Giyu Tomioka, the water pillar, is not known for being verbose or interactive, but when he does say something, people stop to listen. Now, they’ve not only heard him basically agree I’m boring, but also unimportant. I’d take Shinazugawa’s general unpleasantness over hearing what Tomioka thinks of me any day.
“You’re rather small,” Kocho notes, her purple gaze snagging on my bent legs. “Do you also struggle with beheading demons?”
This causes Shinazugawa to scoff and say something nasty, but I choose not to hear it.
“I have no trouble.” I retort plainly.
“Really?” She asks, brows furrowing. “You’re not much taller than me.”
I feel an intense need to roll my eyes. However, because I’m apparently an all-important hashira now, I merely shrug. “It’s never been a problem for me.”
Tokito, silent until now, makes a thoughtful sound. “Sparring might be fun. I don’t have a lot of time, though.”
“Hey…” Shinazugawa’s fiendish eyes light up with a vigor I know won’t be pleasant for me. “That’s a great idea! Let’s spar with the brat.”
“I’m not much younger than you.” I say on the end of an exhale, no one listening to what I have to say anyway.
The next moment is fast. Only the most powerful demons I’ve faced so far have possessed speed akin to the hashira, and my sword is out and blocking over my right shoulder before I truly note that someone’s left the line in front of me.
Obanai, dual-colored eyes set aflame with challenge and… something that looks like anger, tries to overpower my grip as our blades press together with the sound of straining steel echoing over the courtyard.
“This will be interesting.” He sneers, his voice barely audible as he pounces back. I’m on my feet in the next instance.
“I usually spar with wooden swords,” I manage before the next two blows, one to Shinazugawa, another to Obanai, have them dancing back.
“Boring!” Shinazugawa shouts, and then we’re a blur of fury and precision, speed propelling us through the yard in clouds of dust that pool around our feet.
Obanai and Shinazugawa don’t rest, their movements complimenting each other but causing me to pivot style constantly. Shinazugawa is an amazing swordsman, I hate to admit, combining perfect form with power that I’ve barely felt from another foe. Obanai, different in style but just as talented, sends swings that could cut anywhere at any time. Protecting myself causes my strength to adjust depending on who I’m focusing against, and there’s very little time between strikes. If I let up for a moment, a singular heartbeat, I’ll be spitting up dirt for a week from how hard they’ll pummel me down. Left, right, my shoulders ache from their blows, and I’m stuck in a state of constant reaction. Block, block, block, I haven’t yet managed to swing an attack.
I’m vaguely aware of the other hashira, some sitting and watching our spectacle, Himejima and Uzui excusing themselves, though the latter does shout something about me being flashy. I don’t have time to acknowledge the compliment, continuing to defend against the onslaught against me.
“Light Breathing… first form.” I pant out, my skin beginning to gleam with the influx of air in my lungs. “Moonbeam strike.”
One swing of my blade causes Shinazugawa’s sword to fly from his hands and clatter to the gravel, a careful twist of my body to miss his skin and focus on disarming him. Another spin collides my blade with Obanai’s, but speed isn’t something he’s used to from me, and when I go to throw his blade to the ground, I accidently connect with his shoulder.
He hops back, squatting down, his gaze sliding to the open fabric on his left collar bone, and his eyes narrow.
“Oi, you hit him!” Shinazugawa shouts, shoving hands through his hair, “What the fuck was that!”
I pant, my eyes widening as I realize what I’ve done. “You wanted to spar with real blades!”
“You alright?” Shinazugawa ignores me, approaching his friend with an uncharacteristic flare of worry in his feral gaze.
“I’m fine,” Obanai’s fingers press into the wound, a thin scratch that stretches the length of my index finger. “She didn’t cut deep.”
The wind hashira’s contempt slides to me, and I know if I were still lesser ranked, if I were not a woman and he didn’t have whatever bizarre moral code stopping him from beating me senseless, I’d be throttled in the dirt right now. “Apologize.”
“Pft,” I sheath my sword, face twisting in disbelief. “You both attacked me with real swords. You knew the risks.”
He takes a step forward, “I said – “
He stops abruptly, eyes snapping to Obanai as the serpent hashira stands and appears in front of him. “Stop.”
“What?”
Obanai doesn’t bristle, “She’s right. I’m fine, do not make a mistake you will regret.”
Shinazugawa’s hand flies in my direction, “But she – “
“Is a hashira,” Obanai hisses, “And proved herself today.” He peers at me over his shoulder, a quiet judgement passing between us that I don’t think is very positive. “I will not be so lax next time.”
I nod, stepping back and joining the others in their eager spectating.
“I didn’t expect that,” Kocho nearly sings.
“What an impressive show of sword play!” Kanroji beams, “That was very interesting, indeed! Don’t you think so, Mister Tomioka?”
The water pillar doesn’t respond as he considers me, the cut in Obanai’s uniform, the not-so-hushed rage Shinazugawa has thrown himself into.
“We’re wasting time,” He repeats, but his tone holds none of the irritation he had before, “We need to discuss strategy.”
I have moved no closer to making friends, but perhaps the quick spar did earn me something: a modicum of respect. Maybe the Master wasn’t so hasty in my promotion… and maybe I do belong here, nestled between the power that strives to protect the Master, the corps, the world…
~
Missions for a hashira are difficult, understandably so, and my time seems to be soaked into new duties, leaving little space for anything else. I don’t have the mental capacity to keep up with other comrades, merely sending crows with messages, before collapsing on my futon each night. A harrowing undertaking, but I can feel myself getting stronger.
My sword is swung with an even finer precision, my lungs don’t grow as tired between movements, and although I ache at the end of the long days, my stamina improves greatly.
Perhaps it’s because I’m always on edge, waiting for another surprise strike from my fellow hashira. Obanai hasn’t sought out revenge… yet, but I ignore the paranoia and hold my chin high as I sit amongst them.
A month comes and goes, three since the loss of Rengoku, and while none of them mention it, I feel their tension settle some as they realize I’m more capable than originally thought.
Damn. I didn’t know how wishy washy they thought I was until promotion.
“Anyway,” Kanroji’s voice bites through my thoughts, “I’m thinking of having you all over for tea soon.”
“I’d rather die,” Shinazugawa’s head rolls back onto his shoulder, “Absolutely not.”
The love hashira presses her lips together, her cheeks growing pink. “C’mon, Mister Shinazugawa! We never do anything together outside of the corps, and we’re hardly ever home at the same time! Tonight would be perfect for us to finally have a moment of peace together!”
Kocho shrugs, “That’s fine by me, I’ll be there.”
Tokito sighs, “I’ll come if you have furofuki daikon.” He doesn’t drop his glossy eyes from the sky. I blow an amused huff from my nose; he would enjoy radishes at a tea party.
“That’s not exactly part of the menu,” Kanroji grumbles, “But of course, anything for my guests! Please? Mister Shinazugawa, Mister Tomioka? I’ll have sweets.”
Tomioka sighs, “If I must, I’ll go if everyone goes.”
“That’s new!” Kocho’s brows raise.
“Yay!” Kanroji beams, “Come on, Miss Nagano, you know you’d like to come too.”
I shrug, not finding an immediate reason to decline. “Sure, I’ll be there.”
“I’ll come, too.” Obanai states afterwards, his voice much closer than I realized. I tilt my head towards him, offering a small smile. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?”
“Tonight.” He confirms, his voice not carrying to the others.
Suddenly a tea party with these people doesn’t seem so daunting.
“See! Even my ex – “ Kanroji stops herself with a firm shake of her hair, Obanai sighing from next to me, “Even Mister Obanai is coming! No one has any excuses.”
I don’t stop the chuckle from rattling out of me, but as the conversation wears on, Himejima would prefer to stay home, and Uzui has a date with his wives.
“We’ve got a big mission coming up,” Uzui taps his knee, his face lifted in a half smile as he thinks about the women in his life, “I want to spend as much time with them as possible before we’re apart for a while.”
“That is understandable,” Kanroji nods with finality, “But the rest of you are coming! It’s settled! Be over at six!”
Shinazugawa’s gaze cuts to Obanai’s, the former’s face twisting mischievously. “I’ll bring the sake.”
~
My cottage is at the edge of the forest, my own residence now that I have the money to settle somewhere. Most of the others have bought estates, needing the space to train themselves and tsugukos away from the Ubuysashiki mansion. I may upgrade sometime in the future, but for now, the docile cottage is enough space for me to lay my head at night and make quiet dinners alone when the time calls for it. I’m close to the village for a dual purpose, not only am I close if anyone should need aid, but I can also grab ingredients or premade meals with ease.
Sometimes a girl only has time for a salty bowl of soba, it’s not a moral failing.
I opt to wear a regular kimono tonight since Kanroji wants us to be normal. I bathe, the hot water seeping into my skin and leaving me feeling like a new woman, and let my pale hair sit unbound and free. It’s painfully straight, but this makes it easier to tame when in a time crunch. The love hashira didn’t tell us to bring anything, and with a shrug I leave my home and begin the walk to her estate.
In another life, one where demons haven’t become the center of my everything, I think I would become someone who would preserve moths once they’ve lived out their lives. If money permitted, I’d have great rooms full of them, all different species that could coexist amongst the plants and pots I’d set up for them. When they passed, I would pin and frame them, dedicating my time to the study of their shape, and the benefit of their existences. I love walking in the dimming light, watching the fluttering wings of creatures heavier than butterflies’ flap into the sky, chasing the rays of the descending sun.
In a way, I feel just like a moth. Constantly attracted to the bright and shiny parts of life, sometimes to my own detriment. Pursuing light breathing has given me purpose, but it also risks my life each night I pick up my sword. I’m a reflection to those flying creatures, my body gravitating the same way theirs does, but the pursuit never ends, and I’m always grasping for light when the dark inevitably comes.
A depressing thought that I shake away to let myself get excited to see the other hashira outside of a work setting. Kanroji does have a point, I have no idea what any of them are like when we’re not bustling within the corps. This will be a fascinating opportunity for people watching if anything.
Her estate is what I expect: lavish gardens peppered with spots for leisure at their most attractive spots, the inside stuffed with décor displayed on nearly every surface. Paintings, figurines, masks, there doesn’t seem to be a wall unadorned, or a shelf lacking something to fill up space. A kakushi lets me in, steering me into the dining room with thick branches of giant green leaves visible through the windows, a sliding door to the right letting in some of the cooling evening air.
The spread she’s prepared is something out of a storybook with a witch trying to fatten her victims… cakes, pastries, little bowls of sauces that I don’t even have the name of sit amongst the usual Daifuku and ohagi, but Kanroji has even thought about those of us who would prefer savory snacks. Labeled rice balls, the seared turnips that Tokito had requested, grilled fish, and sushi – a treat if I’ve ever seen one – sit in neat rows surrounded by sets of porcelain chopsticks and little plates with flower embellishments around the rims. She’s planning on spoiling us, the beauty of the presentation almost too good to mess up and ruin with my appetite.
I’m the first to arrive, odd since Tomioka usually lurks around our meeting places an hour before we’re supposed to gather, but I take this opportunity to claim the plush armchair near the door, the view of the garden outside intoxicating.
“I don’t know why you’re saying that!” The words float in on the breeze, surprising me with their uncharacteristic ire. Kanroji’s yelling at someone, I peer out the sliding door, catching the flick of her long braid, pink hair revealing her location. “I’ve done nothing but be kind to you since we’ve met! I can’t stand that you think I’d just throw that away!”
A muffled low voice answers her, definitely a man’s cadence, but it’s too quiet for me to hear his response.
“This?” She screeches, her question loud enough to rattle the tea mugs sitting empty on the table. “This is why we broke up, Iguro!”
Iguro? Obanai’s out there?
“You’re too possessive! Jealous! I don’t even have the name for what you are, but you smother me with it! I can’t take it anymore!” She stomps her foot, and feel like the tremor of her fury can be felt from my seat. Scary.
“How am I supposed to believe that you didn’t stray?” I hear him say as he walks to into view, and I duck a bit further to remain shrouded. “You’re beautiful, and I’m… I’m – “
My eyes widen as he yanks the bandages from his face. Scars, thick, angry, done with an uncaring hand, stretch the length of his cheeks giving his mouth the look of a perpetual sneering grin. They’ve healed, the skin around the cuts raised and paler than the rest of his face, but it doesn’t stop the gape I feel open my own mouth.
I, foolishly, thought the bandages a way of looking more menacing to his foes. That, or providing a smooth, textured place for Kaburamaru, the snake, to wrap more comfortably around his neck and shoulders. I never expected…
“You’re what, Iguro?” Kanroji huffs, unphased by the sight. “Insecure? Afraid?”
He flinches. The untouchable, harsh, strict serpent hashira flinches as if she’d hit him. My body jerks, I wish I could stop this fight, but it’s not mine to interfere in.
“I am a disgrace,” His voice trembles, and it’s strange to hear him speak without the barrier over his mouth, “I do not deserve you nor anyone. You’ve proved that with your actions.”
She flips her hair, turning her back towards him. “I don’t have anything more to say to you. I told you the truth. This has been done for months, I don’t know why we’re even talking about it anymore.”
She’s gone, and he’s left, breathing heavily and staring after her. I know that look, my forehead pressing to the door frame. I know how it feels to be the one still holding a candle for something long dead, to hope that you’re not the one who shattered the fragile thing in the first place. Whether Kanroji stayed or not isn’t the point… the affection they shared was not enough to ease the pain in his chest. Maybe it’s the same pain that lingers from getting those scars, maybe it’s something that happened after.
Either way, time separates their parting, and yet he’s still shattered in a garden. The bandages roll from his shoulders, landing on the ground like a pale ribbon.
“Oi! Anybody home!” Shinazugawa’s voice penetrates the halls, and Obanai vanishes. Hasty, unseen, and I push myself to stand.
“I’m in here,” I call, searching the garden for the presence of the serpent hashira. “I’m stepping outside for a moment.”
Kanroji, sounding as unbothered as if she was just lounging and waiting for guests, greets the wind hashira somewhere outside the dining room. I pull the door shut behind me, eyes scanning the green foliage and flowers for a sign of where Obanai went. I stop when I reach the bandages, sighing to myself.
He probably went home. I wasn’t even part of the conversation, and I feel drained enough to just go home – he’s probably sulking somewhere in his house, far from prying eyes and uncaring ex-girlfriend’s. I squat, hand reaching towards the forgotten bandages when the glimmer of white scales catches my eye. Deep in the bushes the snake waits, its red eyes studying me curiously.
I place my palms on my knees, smiling at the serpent. “I should have known you’d be near.” I bow my head in greeting, the snake tilting his own in silent judgement. “I’ve never had the chance to tell you, but I think you’re very beautiful.” I shimmy up the sleeve on my left arm, the swooping cuff sitting just under my elbow glinting in silvery luminance. A crescent moon shape, one end is a snake head, its windy body stretching around my arm before tapering off into a thin tail. “I wear this every day. It’s the last thing I have of my older sister; her favorite animals were snakes.”
The serpent glides towards me, his tongue flicking against the skin of my arm before peering back up at me.
I nod, “I’ve grown to love your kind too, though I will admit I was scared when I was a little girl.” My finger trails over the cuff absently, “I think it’s why I’m drawn to your owner,” I admit softly, “He seems so fearless, unafraid of the things that used to cripple me. I find it amazing.” I reach my hand forward, stopping a proper distance away from the snake’s body. “May I?”
He considers this, his eyes almost seeming to narrow before he leans into my touch. His scales are smooth, warm, and soft in a way that leathery skin always surprises me. A small, appreciative grin lifts my lips without me thinking about it. “Thank you for allowing this, Kaburamaru. You’re a wonderful creature.”
I stoop, the snake hissing softly when I pluck up the bandages. I bring my eyes up to meet his. “Don’t worry, I’m not stealing them. I’m going to fold them around you. It might make it easier for you to bring these back to him.”
The snake does narrow its eyes at me as I work, folding and tying the bandages securely around his upper body, careful not to make them too tight that he couldn’t move comfortably. With my fingers so near, I give one last brush to the smooth scales.
“Try to convince him to come back, will you?” I ask, wondering if that kind of communication exists between snake and human. “It would be a shame if he didn’t join us. I for one would like to talk to him.”
I make sure this statement is loud enough that wherever he sits, hiding away to shield the secrets of his scars, he hears me.
The snake slithers off, disappearing under bushes so I can’t track his movements.
“Hanako!” Kocho shouts from the doorway, “Get in here! I’m in desperate need of a charades partner.”
“I’m right here.” Tomioka’s voice says from behind her.
“And you’re the worst person to play games with.” She snaps at him, her hand patting the doorframe rapidly. “Come on! We’re starting.”
“I’m coming!” I shout back.
It might have been the wind, but I think I hear a tree rustling more than usual as I pass beneath it. Whether that was a way to get my attention or not, I leave the outside to the night insects and those who need their privacy.
~
Sake has long replaced tea, Shinazugawa’s promise not unfulfilled. He’s brought enough bottles to drown an entire battalion of demon slayers, and after the third bottle is opened and poured, my tongue feels heavy and my vision blurry.
“Hanako!” Kanroji rocks back and forth in her chair, her shoulders bumping with Kocho’s and then Tomioka’s. “Which of the hashira do you think is the cutest?”
Shinazugawa groans, “Nah, we’re not playing that stupid game.”
“What game?” Kanroji grins, her cheeks so red that I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or drink. “I just want to know. Hanako is so proper.”
“She doesn’t use any of our first names.” Tokito sighs, his fingers tracing around the teacup that he sips from, sake denied to him since he’s still too young. “It’s been a while. I find that strange.”
My own cheeks heat, “None of you have said to use your first name.”
“Do you even know them?” Shinazugawa snaps, his eyes heavy lidded. It’s interesting, when he gets drunk his wide eyes seem to close, like he’s finally able to relax.
“Yes!” I chuckle, gesturing to each of them. “Muichiro, Giyu, Mitsuri, Shinobu, Sanemi!” I give him a teasing grin, “Do you know my name?”
He shrugs, “Hanako.”
“Last name, idiot.” I roll my eyes.
He bristles at the name calling, but his smile stays light. “Namado?”
“Nagano.” Tomioka corrects with a sigh. “Really, Shinazugawa, you have to pay more attention.”
“Shut up, pretty boy. Nobody asked you.”
Tomioka’s brows knit, mouthing the words pretty boy with the most confused expression, and I find that terribly amusing. My laughter rocks my shoulders, and the room seems to brighten as conversation flows easily between us. It’s agreed that I can use their first names, since I’ve been so relaxed with my own, and that I don’t have to answer the question Mitsuri asked because once it’s my turn to talk I fall into a fit of giggles that leaves me sweaty and breathless.
“Where is that asshole?” Sanemi asks after a pause in conversation. “He should have been here forever ago.”
Mitsuri’s sweet grin falls, “He probably won’t come.” Oh, they’re talking about Obanai.
“What did you say to him?” Sanemi’s voice takes on an accusing edge.
She raises her palms, “Nothing! I didn’t do anything, and that’s always been the problem!”
The air is heavy with a history and secrets that I don’t understand. Looks and words are exchanged, and before I know it, the party is over. Mitsuri retires to bed before I can thank her for her hospitality. The Kakushi provide small paper boxes for us to pack leftover treats in, and I take that opportunity to stuff mine to the brim. I have plans for all this food.
Giyu walks Shinobu home, her voice pitching higher and teasing him relentlessly, but it makes me smile at their ease. I don’t know where Muichiro and Shinazugawa went, surprised because the latter is as subtle as an alarm bell, but I’m alone on the street in what feels like a fast shove. I clutch the box in my hands, the lantern light casting long shadows as I blink away my drunkenness.
Which way did I get here from? That way? I have no idea.
I sit outside her gate, letting my legs stretch in front of me with a heavy sigh. Instead of getting lost, or bothering the kakushi in Mitsuri’s house, I let my head rest against the fence posts and stare up at the stars. Beautiful, twinkling, and oh so peaceful.
I doze off.
I only realize it when I feel a strange flicking against my cheek, my hand moving to smooth away the tickle before a low voice snaps me to consciousness.
“Wake up.”
My eyes blink open as I stretch slightly, my butt numb from sitting out here so long, and I lurch back from how close he is to me.
“Fuck!” I hiss, my hand flying to my chest, my head still swims with the remnants of sake, and I struggle to make sense of the man crouched beside me. “Obanai? What are you doing here?”
He gives me a curt once over before turning his face forward. “You’re a woman who’s weaponless and drunk sleeping in the street at night. I wasn’t going to leave you unguarded.”
“Oh,” I moan, my head aching, my spine spasming. It was not the best place to fall asleep. “Thank you, I suppose.”
“This is dangerous, not to mention stupid. Why are you out here?” His harsh questions have me blinking, swallowing the sweetness on my tongue, and my stomach churns from the taste. I will not drink sake ever again.
“I…” I chew my lip, embarrassed of my answer.
“You what?”
“I forgot how to get home.” My nose wrinkles as my head slides to my shoulder to face him. “I just moved into my cottage, I’m not very familiar with the way back home drunk, I guess.”
He sighs deeply, “You could have stayed at Kanroji’s, you would have been safe.”
“She kind of… kicked us out? I don’t know, there was a lot happening.”
“What happened?” He asks. I hum, feeling my eyelids beginning to droop again. Firm fingers grasp my chin, pulling my face upwards. “Hanako, what happened?”
A silly smile blooms on my mouth, “I don’t think you’ve said my name before.”
His eyes widen, and then he shakes his head, “What happened in there?”
My lips press together, “I don’t know. Sanemi wanted to know where you were and they kinda started fighting? It was hard to pay attention.” A memory stirs, and a gasp escapes me. “Wait! I have something for you!”
“What?” He asks, exasperated.
“These!” I pluck up the box of snacks and thrust it into his chest, my movements sloppy. “I was going to bring them to you tomorrow, but since you’re here now, here!” I jostle the box slightly until his hand drops from my face to take the box. His flips the lid open, a brow raising at the contents.
“Sweets?”
“For you!” I beam, “The food was good, it was a shame you missed out on it.” I slide my gaze to Kaburamaru, shaking my head. “Weren’t very successful in getting him to come, huh?”
The snake flicks his tongue in response. I don’t know what it means.
“You… didn’t have to do this.” Obanai says tightly, his attention still on the packed food.
“Sure, I did!” I smile again, my mouth feeling like it can’t stop turning upwards. “I wanted – “
I stop myself, biting my lip.
“Hanako,” Obanai leans forward, catching my attention. “The fight… was it bad?”
I shake my head, “It was just Sanemi being mad. I think he missed you.” I chew my cheek for a moment, my mind spinning with the truth that can’t seem to stay hidden. “I did, too.”
He blows out a tight breath, the bandages muffling all his reactions in a way that bothers me. “You’re drunk. You don’t mean that.”
“Mmm,” I lift my fingers, hesitantly, slowly, as I brush hair off his face and behind his ear. His hand snaps up, catching my wrist firmly and shoving my arm away. His head shakes, the hair falling back over him, I chew my lip, knowing I crossed a line.
“Don’t touch me.” He snaps.
“Sorry.” I shut my eyes, “That was stupid. I’m sorry.”
A stupid crush. I don’t know what it is… but when Mitsuri asked who I thought was the cutest, I may have played up my inability to answer because the person I thought of wasn’t in attendance. Is, in fact, the ex-boyfriend of the host. Messy and unpredictable, we’ve barely had the chance to interact beyond quiet, hushed words at the hashira meetings. He gets me to laugh, he appreciates my work, it’s a quiet exchange amongst professionals. I’m just a silly girl behaving like I’m in a school yard, pining after the mysterious sad boy.
My one-sided conversation with Kaburamaru is the closest I’ve come to having a real conversation with him… aside from this one. Where, as expected, his focus is on the fight that started about him between his ex and his best friend. Silly, stupid Hanako.
“I don’t want that,” He whispers, solidifying my racing thoughts. “At least not tonight…”
“What?” I hiccup, unsure of when embarrassed tears started spilling out of my eyes. I swipe at them angrily.
He groans lightly, “You’re drunk –“
“I’m drunk, but I’m not belligerent!” I shout back at him, my frustration echoing in the too-quiet streets. “I know what’s going on!”
“You’re sloppy,” He chastises, his voice pitching impossibly lower, eyes narrowed in contempt. “You don’t even know how to get home. You don’t know what you want.”
“How can you say that?” I breathe, shaking my head. “Obanai –”
“If I were Tomioka, pretty, perfect Giyu, sitting here instead, you’d be acting the same way.” His words bite, and I wince as he points a long finger at me, “I’m just the one who’s available. You don’t want me.”
Obanai’s judgement burns, as if he’s already stripped me bare and laughed at my naked body here and now. I feel exposed, raw, and incredibly sad.
I wipe my face on the sleeve of my kimono, sniffing pathetically to self-soothe. “I am sorry for crossing a line, but I will not stand you thinking you know better than I do about what I want. Who I want.” I shake my head, pushing myself – clumsily, dammit – to stand, leaning heavily on the wooden gate outside Mitsuri’s estate. “What are you doing here? You never answered my question.”
His eyes drop to the pavement, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I stayed near… in case I was needed.”
“You were needed,” I argue, gesturing to the house. “In there! With the people who were looking forward to spending time with you.” I scoff, my body feeling a mixture of sober frustration and drunken irrationality. “Do I need to write it on my forehead? I’d like to see Obanai outside of work…” I trace my fingertips over my skin, my body leaning forward to spit the words at him in slow enunciation.
He’s upright in the next moment, and I hadn’t realized he was taller than me. Not much, a couple of inches, but needing to look up is still unexpected. A gasp rattles out of me, and he steps closer, an accusing finger in my face.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do,” I sneer back, slapping his hand away dismissively. If he wants to be hostile, I’ll meet and beat his silly game. “I know exactly what I’m asking. The same thing I’ve wanted since we sparred in the courtyard outside the mansion.”
The confession is there, pointless and burdensome, and heat feels like its searing my chest into pieces. He watches me, his eyes flicking between mine as he weighs the truth behind my words.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t seem to like me.” I pout, crossing my arms.
His control is enviable, his back straightening and both him and the serpent wrapped around his shoulders tilt their heads at me. Confusion is written in his dual-colored eyes, and I chew my cheek as I wait for the next round of accusations to pour out of his bandaged mouth.
“You saw me…” He says, his face tilting downwards, eyes still fixed on mine. “In the garden, didn’t you?”
“Without…” I point to my own chin, not needing anymore explanation. “I did.”
“And what did you think?”
I’ve been thinking about seeing him without bandages for hours. What happened to him, what could have caused the scars, and resolving that it’s none of my damn business. Whatever trauma clings to his bones is his to bear, and if he should choose to share it with me, that would be a lucky day.
“I think it must of hurt… and that it still hurts you.” I answer honestly, my mouth finding the words easier than my mind can. “But that they’re part of you, a symbol of strength and survival, which is what you’ve always been to me, regardless of how your face looked.”
Obanai’s brows raise almost imperceptibly, and again his shifting eyes search mine for the lie he won’t find. I must have said something right because after a while he merely nods, bending to pick of the box of treats I’d saved for him, and he gestures for me to follow him.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Come on.”
“Obanai! Wait!” I catch up to him, careful not to touch him as I swivel in front of his body, his steps stopping immediately. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head once, “I’m walking you home. When you’re free next, I will come over, and we can continue this conversation.”
“But…” I’m confused, my eyes blinking rapidly.
His face softens, “Relax, before you hurt yourself.” He chuckles, the sound like the roll of grass in a summer breeze. “You’re very kind, Hanako. I will make sure you get home safely.”
That means one of us knows how the hell to get out of Mitsuri’s part of town, and I sigh with relief. “I was worried I said something stupid.”
He makes a thoughtful sound, propelling me towards the apparent direction of my house. “No. You’re in a state where you’re very honest, and… you don’t pity me.”
My mind is too saturated with alcohol to understand the weight of his analysis.
“Why would I?” I croak, following him like a lost puppy.
“Exactly. Now come on.”
~
I’m going to kill Shinazugawa and throw his sake off a cliff next time I see him. My head feels like it’s being split in four, the rolling nausea in my guts keeping me bed bound for most of the morning after the party.
This is worse than any sickness I’ve ever felt, and I’ve been poisoned, for fucks sake. My Kasugai crow conveniently comes to find me in the late morning.
“And where were you?” I snap, accusations heavy as I let my head thump down on the pillow. “I needed you last night! I had to rely on someone else to get home!”
“You have a poor sense of direction!” The crow shouts back, unperturbed by my chiding. “You’re the hashira! No need to blame me!”
He’s right of course, and I shouldn’t be so mean to the creature who guides me on all my missions. I slap at my night table, grabbing the scathing note I’ve written Sanemi about the terrors of hangovers.
“Can you deliver this to Sanemi Shinazugawa?”
The bird hops forward, snatching it with its talons before hovering midair. “Love letter for Sanemi! Love letter for Sanemi!”
“IT IS NOT A LOVE LETTER!” I scream after the flying beast, groaning as my head aches from anger pumping my blood painfully fast.
I doze off, the crow returning sometime later with a crudely scrawled reply on the back of my own note stating Fuck you! Learn to handle your liquor.
I mentally note to make his death as painful as possible. The uncouth bastard.
Evening has nearly fallen by the time I feel like the echo of my former self, a gentle knock on my door pulling me from my table to answer the guest. Likely my neighbor asking for sugar again –
“Oh, hello.” I greet tensely.
The man staring back at me is not my neighbor, and I highly doubt Obanai has any use for sugar. “Good evening.”
I fidget, my hand trying to smooth the hair from my face that I’ve neglected to comb since getting up. “Do… would you like to come in?”
He merely nods, entering my widened doorway and subtly raking his gaze over the space. Two bedrooms, an indoor bathroom, the house isn’t very large. It’s the finest place I’ve ever lived, the stonework and fireplace a dream of mine since youth, and I splay my arms to encompass the small living room that doubles as a dining room, the kitchen barely visible through the leftmost doorway.
“Welcome.”
“It’s a nice place,” He comments, sliding over the floor to one of the two chairs I have seated around the small round table. “Comfortable.”
I smile, my body still too drained to muster up more enthusiasm. “It’s suitable for what I need. I’m almost never home.”
“The larger houses are overrated,” He agrees, leaning his head into his palm, “I have more space than I know what to do with.”
I nod, “Master told me how some of the kakushi don’t mind being assigned to our houses to help with tasks. I would rather die than have someone else do my laundry.”
I join him at the table, tucking my knees under me as I pour a second mug of tea from the stack I’ve left here for the purpose of not having to get up if I needed a second… or third, for whatever reason. I set the mug in front of him, the trails of steam curling towards his face.
“You get used to it,” He says, circling a finger around the rim of the cup. “I wanted to ask you if you remember what happened last night?”
A short chuckle leaves me, “You came all the way here to ask that?” I move my hair over my shoulder and run my fingers through the ends, a habit I do when I don’t know what to do with my hands. “But, yes, Obanai. I remember everything. Every embarrassing detail.” My face twists. I don’t make it a habit to cry in front of people often.
“I wanted to make sure.” He won’t look at me, but the air is heavy.
I pivot the conversation, hoping he won’t just get up and leave now that he has his answer. “How did you feel about yesterday?”
His stills, likely not used to being asked about himself. “Yesterday was aggravating. In many ways. Embarrassing for me, too.”
The garden. The bandages. Mitsuri.
“Sure.” I nod.
“But the end was… interesting.”
I laugh, “Walking me home was fun for you?”
“I said interesting,” He corrects with a flick of his finger, “It wasn’t… unpleasant.”
I chew my cheek for a moment, listening to the emphasis he’s using, and the careful tone. He’s curious… seeking out how I think and feel and wondering if he was correct in assuming what I said was only brought up because of my alcohol laden tongue.
“I meant everything I told you,” I whisper, “Every word.”
He clears his throat, swallowing thickly beneath the bandages. “I wanted to talk to you about something yesterday, but we didn’t get the chance.”
The memory comes back, and I chew my lip urging him to go on.
“I wanted you to know I remember.”
My heart stops.
“That night four years ago… before you joined the corps. You know I was the hashira assigned to that occurrence.”
I did. I was timid. More naïve than I am now about the way our world works. I’d never even picked up a dagger, let alone handled a sword before that night.
“You likely thought I didn’t remember you, thought that you were just another name on a long list of people I’ve saved.” He waves his hand at the same time Kaburamaru flicks his tongue, as if the thought couldn’t be further from the truth.
“But that’s not how I remember it… I needed you to know that.”
My mouth is parted, breaths not quite heavy, but contemplative. To be honest, I barely remember him, though now that the memory is fresh in my mind there’s no doubt. I was hyper focused on the flashes of blood, the broken bodies of my mother and sister… I inhale deeply and put my focus on the task at hand. I’ve become an expert not just on sword handling, but how to suppress those nagging emotions, too.
“I’m surprised.” I admit, the silence wearing on long enough that I had to say something.
“It’s your eyes,” He comments, looking down at his hands, “They’re such a pale brown that they look orange. Striking. Unique.” He says the word like it’s a bad taste in his mouth, but I can tell he meant it as a compliment. I wonder how many times he’s been called unique as a reason for fault in his life. “When I saw you the first time, only freshly out of final selection, I knew it was you. I’ve kept tabs on you all these years.”
“Really?” I ask, the word barely audible.
He nods, a slight decline of his chin to match the fragility of my speech. “Who do you think recommended you to the Master?”
“I didn’t think…” I trail off, not sure how I can even put it into words what I’m feeling.
“You have talent,” He nods, “You proved it that day we sparred. Taking on two seasoned hashira is no easy feat, and you handled us with this look of… joy. As if you were finally in your element.”
“It didn’t feel that way.”
“It looked that way,” He emphasizes, “Which is all the matters against an opponent.
It makes sense someone recommended me for hashira. I wasn’t anyone’s tsuguko, and while I’ve been in the corps for two years, it’s difficult to reach that final rank without the rigorous training necessary to prove your credibility of the best of the very best. I trained for two years before the final selection… honed every skill I had and climbed the ranks. All the while he was watching over me like some kind of guardian angel.
I tell him as much, and he scoffs.
“You’re the angel. Light and beauty at the end of a deadly blade… the last miracle a demon sees before its life is ended.”
I smile softly, “That shouldn’t be as romantic as it is.”
He shrugs, “We don’t live in a romantic world.”
“Isn’t that the truth…” I muse, leaning back in my chair. “It’s silly, but sometimes I wish we did. I wish none of us hurt or felt loss. I wish we were normal, boring people who knew each other during normal, boring times.”
“We aren’t.” His voice isn’t cruel, but firm, my eyes sliding to his. “There’s hope of reincarnation, but right now, all we have is this,” He gestures around him, “And the quiet moments before the battle begins.”
I nod, “Where each night could be our last.”
“Every breath counts.” He tilts his head, Kaburamaru sliding from his arms to curl himself on a nearby armchair. “Come here.”
His demand is quick, cutting, and I obey immediately, standing over him as my hands begin to shake. He looks up at me as he gently pushes his chair out, the scrape of wood against wood the only thing covering the sound of my thrumming heart.
Obanai’s hands reach for mine, trembling fingers meeting his strong ones, and he guides my palms to his face. “I will not stop you today.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, my voice revealing every ounce of anticipation I am feeling.
“I am yours.”
I don’t need further encouragement. I send strength to my fingers and nimbly pluck away the bandages. His eyes flutter closed, and as the white length of his mask falls away, I see his deep frown, shame pouring off him as he swallows audibly. I cup his cheek, leaning to rest my forehead against his.
“I think you’re beautiful.” I whisper, my thumbs trailing lightly over the piece of him he keeps hidden from everyone. “I have no reason to lie to you.”
“I could think of a few,” He grumbles, but it’s my turn to tilt his chin up to face me.
I look down at him, affection coating my tongue and emotion I usually – sober – keep well-hidden threatens to leak out of my eyes. “You saved me, in every way a person can be saved. You guided me to my former master who gave me a purpose in this demon filled world. You, wordlessly and without expectation of gratitude, gave me a reason to keep going. Yes, I am grateful, but that has nothing to do with my… care for you.”
I tilt my head, “I am not here because I feel I must repay you. I am not doing this because I feel pity for you, I’m here because I cannot stop thinking about you Iguro…” My thumbs brush his cheeks, a soft sigh parting his lips, “And the need I have to be close to you.”
His breath shudders, his eyes closing as he considers. That’s when I see him, brilliant, beautiful, survivor Iguro, smile at me for the first time with no barrier to be seen.
“Get over here.” He grounds out, and he pulls me into his lap.
I gasp, his mouth meeting mine in an open kiss, our tongues immediately pressing against each other in a heated rhythm. I sigh softly, my hands have a mind of their own, and I touch everything I can. His neck, his face, his chest, I press myself closer to thread my fingers in his hair and deepen our kiss.
It’s desperate, clinging, my nails biting into his shoulder as I push to reposition myself, my legs moving to either side of his lap so that I have a better angle to enjoy him. He groans, low and needy, and I can’t get enough.
He tastes like mint and matcha, a blend that has me dizzy and craving more as my tongue searches his mouth, swirling against his, our lips moving in tandem as if we can’t get close enough. My nails scratch up and down his back, clutching at his haori as I pull him to my chest, our bodies flush against each other, only fabric separating me from the leanly muscled man beneath me.
Eventually, his hands begin to roam, too. They were sitting politely at my hips, squeezing gently whenever I touch somewhere he particularly likes, but soon his hands are in the length of my hair, pulling my head back sharply so he can nip at my neck, my collar bone, kiss up the front of my throat until our mouths collide again. My robe is open in the front, and his free hand circles gently on my midthigh, a silent question, an acknowledgement of boundaries.
I grind my hips against his, feeling, finally, the proof that he enjoys what I’m doing to him as much as I do. Impressively thick, a gasp leaves my mouth as I plunge hands down his back and arch myself forward on his cock again.
He groans, leaning his head back to give me access to his throat, and I latch on with a suck as I mark him as my own.
“Shit, Hanako, you’re undoing me.”
I grab his hand, not interested in conversation, and place it on my upper thigh. The sound of his quick breaths, his voice, his groans all without the muffle of the bandages sets me on fire. I’ve never heard such beautiful music as I do when Iguro speaks. I bite, nip, suck at his skin, eliciting more of those coveted notes, as his hands trail to the plush of my inner thigh.
I used to hate that no matter how much I trained I remained soft in the ways my male counterparts were all chiseled muscle. My thighs, ass and chest all expose my femininity, but tonight I relish the feel of his nimble fingers squeezing, caressing, jostling the soft vulnerabilities on my body.
One hand remains locked into my hair, pulling harshly whenever he gets impatient and wants my mouth back on his. The other… is trailing up my stomach, those evil fingers caressing just below where I want them to be on my chest.
“Please…” I gasp out, “I want – “
He pulls my head from his shoulder to look at him, “What do you want, angel?”
“Touch me,” I whine, my brows furrowing as I sink more onto his lap, “I want your hands on me.”
“They are, darling.”
“More.” I grind on him, his deep groan going straight between my legs as desire pools heavy and hot.
His index finger flips up, my breast bouncing from the abrupt contact as he lifts and drops it. I moan his name, about to reach up and put his hand where I want it when he pulls my hair again.
“Patience,” His voice is a low hiss, and my thighs clench around him, causing a teasing grin to pull at his scarred mouth. “I want to take my time.”
I begin my senseless grinding again, “I want – “
He pulls my hair so hard I’m dragged to his lap, nearly all my weight pressed to his twitching thickness. “You don’t think I want you? Do you feel that?”
He pushes up only slightly, the press of his tip against my sensitive clit causing lightning to shoot through my limbs and I arch into his arms, a groan on my lips.
“And that’s with clothes on.” He laughs into my shoulder, “But I liked the sound of you begging… I might have to see how desperate I can make you.”
The hand lazily drawing circles on my ribs finally brushes against the underside of my breast, and I wait, chewing on my lip, for the contact. He’s painstakingly slow… deliberate in his movements, like how he is when handling a sword. Fingertips circle my areola, not quite touching, circling and circling before he finally connects with the piqued bud of my nipple with a firm pinch.
I cry out, pressing myself into his chest at finally getting what I want.
“Vocal,” He teases, his other hand leaving my hair to pay attention to my other breast. “I don’t want this one to be jealous.”
I can’t speak as those fingers work magic. Flicking, teasing, pulling on my nipples as I begin to rut mindlessly against his lap. Every sharp spark of feeling spears to my clit, and I pant out his name like a prayer to end this growing need that heats me from within like molten magma.
“Not yet…” He grounds out, voice rough.
My fingers latch into his hair, using his strength to rut, grind, and bounce on his dick as if my survival depended on it, but his thumbs go faster, pull harder, until eventually I feel his tongue on my right nipple.
“Iguro.” I moan out, my head falling back onto my shoulders, “I can’t… this is everything.”
He moans, the vibrations causing me to start shaking like a leaf in a tempest storm, I’m losing myself, clouded by only my desire for him. I press my chest harder into his mouth, his tongue wicked and talented, and it’s a tragedy it’s been hidden from me for so long.
“Please!” I yelp, my body barely able to stay upright, “Please!”
He pushes my nipple out of his mouth, tongue still connected to my breast before he licks upward slowly, grinning at me as if he could do this all day. “Beg.”
I don’t want to play this game. Now that he’s not connected to my chest, I yank his head back and bite down on his neck – hard.
“Oh!” He yells, palm connecting with my ass before he presses his arms beneath my thighs and hefts me upwards. We’re walking before I lick the hurt clean. “You’ve done it now. Disobedience will be punished.”
“What are you going to do to me, Iguro?” I moan into his ear, his body shudders, I know he likes the sound of his name from my lips, and he falters before he drops me onto the futon.
“Undress.” He demands, eyes not leaving my body as I shrug out of the robe, lifting myself up to gather it and then toss it to the floor.
“Your turn,” I grin up at him, and for once, in a way that melts my heart instead of my core, he listens. Abandoning all insecurity outside for this moment, for me, he sheds the clothing that separate us from skin-to-skin contact.
What I didn’t notice, cheeky bastard, is that he’d gathered the bandages sometime during our kiss and stuffed them into his pocket without my noticing. I was rather distracted, but I raise a brow as he brings them out.
“I am going to bind your hands,” He says calmly, monitoring my reaction as he moves to the head of the futon. “You will not be able to touch me, and I will get you to beg.”
At first, it seems strange. I’ve never had an experience with someone who didn’t want to be touched… but the thought is also arousing. I lay back, letting my arms stretch towards the posts that hold the futon upright.
“Good girl,” He croons, his muscled chest moving with his even breaths, his body tensing as he takes care to bind my hands with the utmost consideration. My muscles do not hurt, my arms are not at an unnatural angle, but he leaves my legs unbound.
“I’ll need these free to move later,” He explains when he sees me looking confused. “Don’t worry, all you need to do is moan for me.”
I almost oblige him right there, the way he looks at me… it’s as if I’m both precious and filthy at the same time, and it’s his job to get me shining like new again.
He is gorgeous. Everything from the tips of his hair to the shape of his legs is perfect to me, and a wave of emotion passes through my chest and heats my eyes.
“What is it, beautiful?” He asks as he parts my knees, crawling up the futon to me.
“I don’t deserve this…” I whisper, but he takes my face in my hands, not speaking until I look at him.
“Don’t say that,” He scolds, “You deserve everything, Hanako, I mean that.”
I want to touch him, pulling on my restraints, and his eyes flick to my wrists, a wry grin replacing the concerned look. He leans down, anticipation riling within me as he pauses just before kissing me. I try to lift myself off the mattress, but the restraints don’t let me go far, not at the angle of my arms and him pressed between my legs.
He grins, “This will be fun.”
Finally, he places a kiss on my lips. Fire burns every other feeling out of me as he brands me with his lips, splitting me apart with his tongue. I moan into his mouth, and he tenses, hands everywhere on me, but nowhere I want them. He nips at my neck, he paws at my breasts, my ass is cupped in one of his hands, and I feel the gentle nudge of his naked cock against my clit.
I buck against him, my breathing panting out of me as he uses that hashira speed to circle my body, my veins pooling with sun rays that burn their way down to my core. Melting me, liquifying me, I am nothing and no one but his in this moment, and I want nothing more than to feel him inside me.
“Iguro, please.”
“You know what you need to do.” He mumbles against my skin, and when he bites the curve of my hip I can’t take it anymore.
“Iguro, I need you! Inside me! I need you to fuck me… I feel like I’m breaking to pieces.” I nearly sob from the ache, the burning need that sends my thighs shaking and my neck weak. I claw at the sheets, his palms pressing on my stomach to keep me from rutting against him, I can’t move, I am completely at his mercy.
“Fuck me…” I sob, the tears coming now, “Please, I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” He asks, a gentle curiosity lining his eyes as he positions himself between my legs, hoisting my knees up around his waist to settle flush against me.
“Anything.”
“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his dick, leaky and just as thick as I thought when he was clothed, presses against my waiting arousal.
“I’m yours.” I breathe, and a heartbeat passes before I utter the rest. “And you’re mine.”
The words are his undoing. He groans, thrusting into me slowly at first, teasing with only the tip that has me squirming beneath him.
“So wet for me…”
I can only moan, begging for more, wishing I could grab him and pull him into me and set my own pace.
Deep and slow at first, so agonizingly slow as he presses my knees higher to my chest, the angle of his cock perfectly hitting every sensitive part of me. He watches himself enter, and then pull out slowly, only to slam back in fully for what feels like an eternity. I
“This is for biting me,” He pants out, his low moans sending a twinge to my clit with every utterance.
“Faster…” I beg, my hips pushing back to take him quicker, but he deliberately slows down.
“Faster, what?”
“Faster… please?” I ask, and it must be the right answer because he begins pounding into me fast, the speed bobbing me back and forth as he holds me together from shattering completely.
It’s as if he’s splitting me in half, his cock brushing that sweet spot as he releases my legs and pulls me to his mouth. One hand drops wordlessly to my sensitive clit, and he rubs circles that match the tempo of his tongue, and I arch into him, my boobs pressing to his chest, our moans overlapping each other as the lewd sound of skin slaps against skin.
He does not let up, his hips rising and falling as he buries himself within me, again and again, his fingers bringing a familiar tightness to my stomach as I reach the precipice.
“Iguro…” I cry, “Please! I’m so close.”
“Come for me, darling, do it now.”
I do. I crash against his fingers, his pace somehow quickening more as I feel myself squeeze against his length.
“You’re going to make me cum.” His rough breath brushes against my mouth, but I can’t speak through the spasms that rock me, the unrelenting press of his thick, pulsing dick against that perfect spot inside me, and I merely latch my legs around his waist and squeeze him against me as if I’ll die if he leaves.
He shudders, his release heavy and hot as it mixes with mine, and he moans my name in a way I wish I could hear every day. His thrusts slow, a few last pushes inside before he pulls out, his head falling to my chest as our breathing evens.
Eventually he removes the restraints, tossing them on the floor near his clothes as he pulls me into his chest.
“You did so well.” He places a kiss to my forehead, “So good for me.”
“I’ll do it whenever you want.” I gasp out, my legs still shaking from the force of his love making.
