Hello 👋! Hope you are doing well❤️❤️ can please request kny men (+ kagaya (platonic)) x ubuyashiki daughter reader where they have feelings for her but she sick ( like her father you know)
— taking care of you. kny men
⊹₊⟡⋆ sanemi shinazugawa ⊹₊⟡⋆
The Wind Hashira wasn’t known for his gentle nature, if anything, his presence usually came with a storm of sharp words and an even sharper glare. But when it came to you, Ubuyashiki-sama’s daughter, something in him softened, though he’d never admit it out loud.
You had caught a cold that left you bedridden, your frail body weaker than usual. Sanemi had been ordered—no, volunteered—to watch over you while the Kakushi tended to other duties. He sat awkwardly on the tatami, arms crossed, pretending he wasn’t watching every breath you took.
“Quit moving so much. You’re supposed to be resting,” he muttered, looking away as if the sight of you tucked under the blankets was too much for him. His ears betrayed him though, faintly red.
You gave him a small smile, your voice soft. “I just wanted to sit up a little. I don’t want to worry Father.”
“Tch, you worry everyone when you don’t take care of yourself,” he said gruffly, standing to adjust the pillow behind your back. His hands, usually rough from sword work, trembled ever so slightly as he made sure you were comfortable.
When he turned to leave, you tugged at his sleeve weakly. “Stay, Shinazugawa-san. Please?”
That one word—please—nearly undid him. He swallowed hard, pretending to sigh as if you were a burden. “Fine. As you wish.”
The truth was, he wanted nothing more than to stay. So he pulled up a chair and sat beside your futon, watching the rise and fall of your chest with a protectiveness he couldn’t explain. He even begrudgingly held the cup of water to your lips, glaring at the cup as though it was to blame for your weakness.
“You’re hopeless,” he muttered after you thanked him softly. “But… you’re strong too. Stronger than me sometimes.” His voice was low, almost a confession, and when he noticed your gaze lingering on him, he quickly turned away, ears burning.
The night carried on with quiet conversation—him grumbling about annoying Corps members, you laughing softly at his commentary. Before long, your head tilted against his arm, sleep taking you gently. Sanemi froze, heart hammering, every nerve screaming to move, but he didn’t. He sat perfectly still, letting you rest against him, his lips tugging into the faintest smile:
“Damn it, why’d you have to steal my heart too?”
⊹₊⟡⋆ kyojuro rengoku ⊹₊⟡⋆
Rengoku Kyojuro was like a blazing hearth on a cold night—warm, unyielding, and impossible to ignore. When the Master entrusted him with the task of keeping you company while you recovered from an illness, he accepted with such vigor that even the Kakushi blinked in surprise.
The moment he stepped into your room, the atmosphere changed. “Ah! You look radiant even in recovery!” he boomed, setting a small tray of steaming broth and tea on the table. His voice alone seemed to chase away the chill in the air.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Rengoku-san, you’re too loud for someone who’s supposed to be resting quietly with me.”
“Loud?” he repeated with a grin, lowering his tone only slightly. “Forgive me! My enthusiasm cannot be contained when it comes to your well-being!”
His golden eyes sparkled as he carefully ladled soup into a bowl, then crouched beside your futon. Despite his usual bold nature, his hands moved with surprising care as he held the spoon toward you. “Eat! It will restore your strength!”
You hesitated. “You don’t have to do this…”
But his expression softened, and for once, his tone dropped to a gentle murmur. “I want to.” The way he said it was so simple, yet it carried the weight of something deeper.
You let him feed you a few spoonfuls, cheeks warm under his gaze. Afterward, he wiped a stray drop from your lip with a cloth, then quickly turned his head to hide the faint blush rising to his ears.
When you grew tired, your eyelids heavy, he adjusted the blankets over you. Sitting down cross-legged beside your futon, he spoke with a quiet certainty: “You are precious to the Corps. Precious to me. Rest well—I shall remain here, watching over you until the morning light.”
Your lips curved into a faint smile as sleep began to take you. “You’re too kind, Rengoku-san.”
His chest tightened at your words, but his smile never wavered. “Kindness is easy when it comes to you.”
And as your breathing evened out, he leaned closer, his fiery hair brushing against his shoulder as he whispered, just for himself:
“I swear, I’ll protect you with every flame I have.”
The Water Hashira was not known for visiting anyone’s quarters casually. His silence and distance made him hard to approach, yet when you, Ubuyashiki-sama’s daughter fell ill, Giyu found himself lingering outside your door longer than he’d ever admit.
He finally stepped inside, his presence calm but firm, like still water. You looked up weakly from your futon and managed a small smile. “Tomioka-san… you didn’t have to come.”
“I… wanted to,” he said, voice low, almost uncertain. He set down a tray he had prepared himself—simple rice porridge, a small pot of tea, and a cloth folded neatly. Nothing elaborate, but everything chosen with quiet care.
You tried to sit up, but your body trembled. Before you could insist otherwise, Giyu was at your side, slipping an arm behind your back to support you. His touch was steady yet feather-light, as if he feared he might break you.
“Slowly,” he murmured. His eyes, usually unreadable, softened when you leaned against him.
As you ate from the bowl he held, you noticed he wasn’t watching the food—he was watching you, making sure you didn’t strain yourself. When you coughed lightly, he immediately reached for the cup of tea, pressing it into your hands with a small frown.
“You should rest. Talking… isn’t necessary,” he said. Yet he stayed there, silent company in a way that made the room feel safe.
When you began to grow drowsy, your head tilting slightly, Giyu shifted closer. He hesitated, then carefully adjusted the blanket over you, tucking it around your shoulders. You felt his fingers linger a heartbeat too long.
“Thank you,” you whispered sleepily.
He froze, his throat tightening, before answering simply: “…Always.”
You drifted off soon after, unaware of the way he sat there for hours, unmoving, as though standing guard. In the quiet, Giyu let out a sigh, almost inaudible:
“You make me wish… I knew how to say more.”
When you fell ill, it was Obanai who volunteered to check on you during the long, quiet evening hours. He entered your room silently, Kaburamaru coiled around his shoulders, his mismatched eyes lowering in quiet respect.
“You shouldn’t be left alone,” he said simply, setting a small tray beside your futon. The tray held soft fruit slices, porridge, and a steaming cup of tea—each prepared with meticulous detail, as though he’d rehearsed it in his head a hundred times before bringing it to you.
You smiled faintly. “Iguro-san… did you do all this?”
He looked away, tugging at his bandages. “It’s nothing. You need to eat.” His tone was curt, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears betrayed him.
As you sat up with effort, he immediately moved closer, sliding a pillow behind your back before you could strain yourself. His movements were brisk, efficient, but his gaze lingered just a little too long to be purely duty.
Kaburamaru slithered down to your lap, and you laughed softly, gently stroking the serpent’s scales. “He’s kinder than you let on.”
“Hm,” Obanai muttered, but his lips curved ever so slightly beneath the bandages. “He… likes you.” Then quieter, almost swallowed in his throat: “I do too.”
You tilted your head. “Hm? Did you say something?”
“Nothing,” he answered quickly, setting the bowl in your hands. “Eat. You need strength.”
You obliged, smiling at how he stayed so close, his sharp eyes flicking to you every few seconds as though he was making sure you wouldn’t fade away before him. When you started to grow drowsy, your spoon falling from your grasp, Obanai caught it swiftly and set it aside.
Without a word, he adjusted your blanket with careful precision, pulling it up to your chin. Kaburamaru curled protectively near your shoulder, while Obanai sat back, arms folded, refusing to leave.
“Sleep,” he murmured, his voice softening for the first time all night. “I’ll be here.”
And though you were already half-asleep, you caught the faintest whisper as he lowered his head, meant only for himself:
“You deserve someone stronger than me… but I’ll protect you anyway.”
The sliding door opened with a clack, and in strode Tengen, tall and glittering as always. But instead of food trays or something flamboyant, he carried a small lacquered box carefully tucked under his arm.
“Special delivery,” he said with a grin, kneeling beside your futon. “Straight from Shinobu Kocho herself. The most flamboyant medicine you’ll ever take—though she insisted I not add any extra flair.”
You blinked at the small vials and folded instructions inside the box. “Uzui-san… you went all the way to Kocho-san for me?”
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, though his tone carried unusual softness. “The Master’s daughter isn’t just anyone. You deserve the best treatment—and someone flamboyant enough to make sure you actually take it.”
When you reached for the vial, your hand trembled slightly. Without hesitation, Tengen caught your wrist gently in his large, calloused hand, steadying you. “Easy there,” he murmured. “No rushing. Let me.”
He carefully uncorked the vial and tipped the liquid into a cup, holding it out for you. “It’s bitter,” he warned with a grin. “But if you can handle hearing me brag all the time, you can handle this.”
You laughed softly, sipping the medicine while he watched closely. His grin faded into something quieter, his eyes sharp but warm, scanning your face as if he could catch any sign of discomfort.
When you finished, he wiped the corner of your mouth with a folded cloth—so casually confident, yet his ears flushed pink as he quickly pulled back. “There. Perfect. Kocho will complain if I don’t report that you took every drop.”
You smiled faintly. “Thank you, Uzui-san. I feel bad making you run around like this.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t. I’d run across the whole country if it meant seeing you smile again.” The words slipped out before he could catch them, and for a moment, even he looked startled.
You tilted your head, curious. “What was that?”
“Nothing!” he blurted, clearing his throat dramatically. “Just… uh… orders. Yes. Doctor’s orders. You need rest.” He leaned back, arms folding across his chest, but his eyes never left you.
As you drifted off, the empty medicine vial sitting neatly by his side, Tengen muttered under his breath, his flamboyant mask falling away completely:
“Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t think my heart can take it.”
⊹₊⟡⋆ gyomei himejima ⊹₊⟡⋆
The faint chime of prayer beads marked Gyomei’s entrance, his towering silhouette framed softly by the lantern light. Despite his sheer presence, his steps were measured, careful, as though he feared disturbing the fragile peace of your room.
“Lady _______,” his voice rumbled gently, low but tender. “I wished to see how you are faring this evening.”
You tried to sit up from your futon, offering him a tired but genuine smile. “Gyomei-san… you didn’t need to trouble yourself.”
He shook his head, kneeling beside you. The beads slipped once more through his fingers before he deliberately set them aside, folding his massive hands into his lap. “Your well-being is never a trouble. It is my duty—more than that, my wish—to ensure your comfort.”
From his haori he retrieved a small pouch of herbs, preparing them with meticulous care until a warm cup of medicine rested between his hands. He helped you drink, steadying the cup with one hand while the other braced the back of your shoulder so you wouldn’t strain. The warmth of his palm radiated through the thin layers of your clothing, grounding and secure.
When you leaned back, fatigued, he adjusted your pillow with a gentleness surprising for hands so large and battle-worn. As he tucked the blanket around you, his touch lingered near your shoulder, brushing lightly against your arm as if silently reassuring you that you weren’t alone.
“You have inherited your father’s quiet strength,” Gyomei murmured after a pause, his expression softened with unspoken emotion. “But I pray… you are spared from his suffering.”
Your lashes fluttered, a soft drowsy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re always so kind to me, Gyomei-san.”
A breath escaped him, almost a sigh, as though your words had reached somewhere deep in his heart. “It is easy to be kind… when it is you.”
As your eyelids grew heavier, Gyomei remained close. His broad hand lifted hesitantly before lowering to stroke your hair, combing slowly through the strands with a tenderness almost reverent. Each motion was careful, soothing, as though he feared both to wake you and to stop.
Your breathing steadied, the smile still faintly lingering on your lips. Gyomei stayed there, brushing your hair until he was certain you’d drifted fully into sleep. Only then did he bow his head slightly, voice a whisper softer than a prayer as though guarding the most precious thing in the world:
“Rest well, my lady. If only you knew… how dearly I cherish you.”
⊹₊⟡⋆ muichiro tokito ⊹₊⟡⋆
The soft shuffle of footsteps barely reached your ears before the sliding door opened. Muichiro stood there, hair drifting around his shoulders like mist, his expression calm but curious as always. In his arms, he carried… an oddly mismatched pile of things.
“Muichiro-san?” you asked softly, tilting your head.
“I thought you might get bored,” he said plainly, setting the bundle down beside your futon. “So I brought these.”
One by one, he revealed what he’d gathered: a few smooth stones from the courtyard garden, their surfaces warm from the sun; a folded piece of paper he’d turned into a little crane; and even a small sketch he’d absentmindedly drawn earlier of a tree swaying in the wind. Each object was simple, yet strangely endearing—Muichiro’s quiet way of saying he’d been thinking of you.
You couldn’t help but smile. “You brought all this… for me?”
“Mm,” he hummed, sitting cross-legged beside you. “I thought it might help you feel… less trapped here.” His gaze flicked toward you, unusually focused, before softening. “I don’t like seeing you sad or tired.”
He picked up one of the smooth stones and placed it in your hand, curling your fingers gently around it. “This one feels nice to hold. I thought you’d like it.” His touch lingered, warm and careful, before he pulled back.
You laughed softly, holding the stone close. “Thank you, Muichiro-san. You’re very thoughtful.”
His lips curved into the faintest smile, his eyes hazy but warm. “I just… want you to feel better.”
As the evening settled, he stayed by your side, telling you in his calm, airy voice about the shapes he saw in the clouds earlier, or the way the sunlight caught the trees. His words, dreamy and unhurried, became a soothing lullaby.
When your eyes began to droop, Muichiro leaned a little closer, his sleeve brushing your blanket.
He hesitated, then gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light. His voice dropped to a whisper, meant only for himself:
“I like being here with you… it makes me feel warm.”
The door slid open quietly, and Tanjiro’s kind smile was the first thing you saw. His presence filled the room not with grandeur, but with the warmth of a hearth fire on a winter night.
“________-san,” he said softly, bowing his head in greeting before stepping closer. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I could… just sit with you for a while.”
You blinked at him, surprised. “You came all this way… just to keep me company?”
He nodded earnestly, setting down a small bundle. Inside was nothing elaborate—just a few flowers he’d picked on his way over, tied together with a bit of string. “They reminded me of you,” he said with a shy laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Simple but… really beautiful.”
Your heart warmed at the gesture. “Thank you, Tanjiro-san. You’re too kind.”
He settled beside your futon, cross-legged, his gentle eyes never leaving you. “You don’t have to talk if you’re tired. I can tell you a story instead.”
And so he did—his voice low and soothing as he shared a memory of his siblings, of Nezuko when she was little, of days when his family laughed together around the hearth. The way he spoke painted vivid pictures, soft and comforting, making you forget your aches for a little while.
As your eyelids grew heavy, Tanjiro adjusted your blanket for you, his fingers brushing lightly against your hand. He hesitated for a heartbeat, then let his hand remain there, warm and steady.
“Tanjiro-san…” you murmured sleepily, a faint smile tugging at your lips.
He smiled softly, leaning just close enough for you to hear as your eyes fluttered shut. “Rest easy. I’ll be right here when you wake up… I want to be someone you can always rely on.”
Your smile deepened as you drifted off, lulled by his words. Tanjiro stayed at your side, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles in a quiet rhythm. His gaze softened even more, his voice a whisper meant only for the silence of the room:
“You’re so precious… I’d do anything to keep that smile safe.”
⊹₊⟡⋆ zenitsu agatsuma ⊹₊⟡⋆
The sliding door slammed open so hard it nearly bounced back.
“________-saaaan!” Zenitsu practically wailed, falling to his knees beside your futon in one swoop. “My poor, delicate flower! My radiant angel! Struck down by illness—how could the heavens be so cruel?!”
You blinked at him, caught between exasperation and laughter as he dramatically clasped your hand in both of his. “Zenitsu-san—”
“Don’t speak! Save your strength!” he cried, his voice cracking as tears already welled up in his eyes. “If anything were to happen to you, I—I’d never forgive myself! I’d—”
A soft giggle escaped you despite your fatigue. His frantic energy, his way of making a mountain out of a molehill, was oddly comforting. You squeezed his hand gently. “Zenitsu-san… I’m not dying. It’s just a fever.”
He froze, blinking, before slumping forward in relief. “Oh, thank the gods…” He sniffled, then immediately perked back up, leaning close with puppy-like devotion. “Still! I should stay here! Protect you! Watch over you! You need someone strong, dependable, handsome—”
You laughed again, shaking your head at his antics. But before you could tease him further, a sudden cough wracked your chest, pulling a wince from your lips.
Zenitsu’s whole demeanor changed in an instant. The wide eyes, the frantic flailing—it all melted away. He sat up straighter, his hold on your hand becoming steady and firm.
“Hey… easy now,” he murmured, voice lowering to a tone you rarely heard from him—calm, careful, loving. He reached for the water pitcher at your bedside, pouring a cup with hands that, for once, didn’t shake. “Here. Small sips.”
He held the cup for you, watching anxiously as you drank. When you leaned back, still a little weak, Zenitsu adjusted your blanket, smoothing it over your shoulders with a gentleness that almost surprised you.
“You don’t have to laugh it off,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. “Even if it’s just a fever… I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your smile softened, touched by the shift in him. “Zenitsu-san… thank you.”
He blushed deeply, ducking his head but refusing to let go of your hand. “I-I know I act like a fool most of the time… but when it comes to you, I’m serious. So… please rest, okay? Let me take care of you tonight.”
As your eyelids grew heavy, you caught the warmth in his gaze—sincere, devoted, and impossibly tender. And just before you drifted off, you heard him whisper to himself:
“…I really do love you, ________-san.”
⊹₊⟡⋆ inosuke hashibira ⊹₊⟡⋆
The door crashed open with a BANG.
“HEY! SICK GIRL!” Inosuke bellowed, charging into the room like a storm. “I HEARD YOU’RE WEAK, SO I’M HERE TO MAKE YOU STRONG AGAIN!”
You blinked at him from your futon, already smiling in spite of yourself. “Inosuke-san… I’m just resting.”
“RESTING IS FOR THE WEAK!” he shouted, slamming down a bundle of twigs and mushrooms he’d clearly just yanked from the forest. “EAT THESE AND YOU’LL BE BACK TO NORMAL!”
You giggled, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s safe…”
He froze, staring at your laugh for a long moment before quickly looking away. “F-Fine! Don’t eat it! But you’re still gonna get strong again!”
With a huff, he plopped down cross-legged beside your futon. For a moment he just sat there awkwardly… then suddenly grabbed the edge of your blanket and gave it a violent tug.
“THIS BLANKET SUCKS! IT’S NOT WARM ENOUGH!” he roared, glaring at it as if it had personally insulted him. “HOW DARE YOU BE USELESS, YOU STUPID CLOTH?!”
You burst into laughter, covering your mouth. “Inosuke-san! Don’t yell at my blanket!”
“I’LL YELL AT WHATEVER I WANT!” he shot back—then immediately pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders with clumsy care. “…But fine. I’ll let it stay. For now.”
Despite his bluster, his hands lingered just long enough to make sure you were tucked in properly. When a sudden cough shook you, his entire body stiffened.
“Hey—hey! Don’t do that!” His voice cracked, softer now, panicked. He scooted closer, his mask tilting as if to study your face. “…You okay?”
You nodded, still smiling faintly. “Just a cough. Don’t worry.”
He muttered under his breath, fidgeting. “Tch. Don’t tell me not to worry. I… I don’t like it when you look like this.”
You tilted your head, but before you could respond, exhaustion tugged at you and your eyes fluttered shut.
Inosuke sat still, watching you for a long moment. Slowly, he reached out—hovering awkwardly—before letting his calloused fingers brush against your blanket-covered hand, the softest touch he could manage.
“…Stupid,” he whispered, his voice low now, almost trembling. “Making me care this much.”
He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed like he was guarding you, but his gaze stayed locked on your peaceful face. Beneath the boar mask, his lips curved into the smallest smile:
“…Don’t get weak on me, okay? ‘Cause I think… I kinda need you around.”
⊹₊⟡⋆ genya shinazugawa ⊹₊⟡⋆
Genya stood outside your door for what felt like forever, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His fists clenched, unclenched, then clenched again before he finally slid the door open—much too quietly compared to his usual rough demeanor.
“…Hey,” he mumbled, stepping inside, eyes darting anywhere but directly at you. “I—I heard you weren’t feelin’ good, so… I, uh, thought I’d… check in.”
You smiled weakly from your futon. “Genya-san… that’s kind of you. Thank you.”
His ears turned red instantly. He shuffled closer, setting down a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Inside were clumsily peeled apples, their edges uneven, and a little wooden carving—rough, simple, but shaped like a flower.
“I’m not… good at this stuff,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “But Kocho said fruit might help. And, uh… I carved that when I was on patrol last week. Thought maybe… you’d like it.”
Your chest warmed. “You made this for me?”
He froze, wide-eyed, then stammered, “I—it’s not that good! Don’t laugh!”
You giggled softly, holding the little carving close. “I love it, Genya-san.”
He ducked his head so fast you almost didn’t catch the faint smile tugging at his lips. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly poured you some water, nearly spilling it before offering the cup with both hands. “Here. Careful.”
As you drank, his hands hovered near yours, like he was ready to steady the cup if you faltered. When you coughed lightly, his whole body stiffened, eyes going wide with panic. “H-Hey, are you okay?!” His voice cracked, almost desperate.
You nodded, easing his nerves with a small smile. “Just a cough. I promise.”
Genya let out a shaky breath, shoulders sagging. Then, almost instinctively, he reached forward and tugged your blanket higher, his rough fingers brushing your arm. “You—you gotta rest more. You shouldn’t push yourself.”
Your eyelids began to grow heavy, and he panicked all over again, blurting out, “D-Don’t fall asleep yet!” before quickly backpedaling, rubbing the back of his neck. “…I mean, it’s fine if you do. I’ll, uh… stay here. Watch over you.”
You giggled, your smile soft even as sleep tugged at you. “Thank you, Genya-san.”
He froze at the sight of your peaceful face, his chest tightening. When your breathing evened out, he let out a quiet sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair gently from your forehead with a trembling hand:
“…You’re so damn important to me… I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
⊹₊⟡⋆ kagaya ubuyashiki ⊹₊⟡⋆
The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of a lantern. Kagaya sat beside your futon, wringing out a cloth and gently laying it across your forehead. His hands were steady, warm, every motion carrying the care of a father who treasured his child more than anything.
“You should rest a little longer,” he murmured, adjusting the blanket around you. “Your strength will return, my dear.”
You smiled faintly. “Thank you, Father… you didn’t have to do all this.”
He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s a father’s duty to care for his child. Besides, I would never forgive myself if I left you to suffer alone.”
For a moment, silence settled between you—peaceful, comfortable. Then, a knowing smile curved his lips. “Although… it seems I am not the only one who feels compelled to stay by your side.”
You blinked in surprise, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”
Kagaya’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I have noticed the way a certain someone looks at you. The way they grow restless if you so much as sigh. The way they soften when you smile.” He let out a quiet laugh. “It is quite obvious to anyone paying attention.”
Your cheeks warmed. “Someone? Who?”
“Mm,” he hummed, feigning deep thought, though the corners of his lips betrayed his amusement. “That, I’ll leave you to discover for yourself. But rest assured…” He reached down to squeeze your hand gently. “…you are far more cherished than you realize.”
“Father…” you murmured, flustered, hiding half your face under the blanket.
His quiet laugh echoed softly in the room, the sound like comfort itself. “Ah, my sweet girl. Whoever it is, or whoever it may be one day… they will be very fortunate indeed.”
And with that, he resumed his quiet vigil at your side, finding endless amusement in your confusion, and endless pride in knowing how easily his daughter could capture hearts.
please do not copy my works.
