Hii can u do hashiras x f!reader (or if you dont feel like doing all of them, giyuu, mui, and obanai would do just fine!)
Basically reader has hanahaki disease (its a disease where someone coughs/vomits flower petals when they experience unrequited love)
How would they react? Will they find out theyre the reason on why she has the disease?
HI THIS IS SO CUTE SO I JUST HAD TO DO IT!!
just a side note, i made muichiro readers sibling, since he is a minor, :D
When you first met Giyuu, he was just âTomioka-sanâ â a pillar of ice and water, still and unreadable. Youâd been a new recruit under Urokodakiâs watchful eye, clumsy with a blade but steady in your determination. Giyuu had already become a Hashira by then, but he returned often to the mountain where he trained â sometimes to visit, sometimes just to be alone.
You never expected him to.
But over time, silence became comfort. His presence was reassuring, solid. When Urokodaki wasnât looking, Giyuu would adjust your stance, wordlessly. After missions, he'd leave rice balls near your satchel if you forgot to eat. He was kind in a way no one else seemed to notice â not loud or expressive, but constant. Like a river that never stopped flowing.
You admired him. Then respected him.
And eventually⊠somewhere between the quiet glances and the way his gaze softened when you spoke about your dreams, you began to feel something else.
It wasnât a lightning bolt. It was slow. Creeping. Blooming in secret places inside your chest.
You fell in love with Giyuu Tomioka the way flowers bloom in winter â against all odds, and far too quietly.
Because Giyuu didnât see you like that. He never had.
Even when heâd walk beside you during missions without speaking. Even when he gave you his scarf on a snowy night without a word. Even when he took the blow meant for you and stared at you too long as you screamed his name.
You mistook kindness for hope.
You should have known better.
He never gave you an inch more than he gave anyone else â and when you, just once, tried to lean into him, to say something just a little too warm, he gently stepped back.
"Don't," he had said. Not cruel. Just tired. Just closed off.
That was the first crack in your chest.
You told yourself youâd move on.
It started after a mission.
You were returning from the Butterfly Mansion after patching up a nasty slash across your ribs. Shinobu had offered a smile too soft to be comforting.
âYou should rest,â she said. âStress will slow your healing.â
You didnât tell her your chest already ached in a way bandages couldnât fix.
That night, you woke up choking â a dry cough tearing from your throat, something soft and wet spilling past your lips. You rushed to the basin, confusion and fear bubbling as you spat out crushed petals â soft, pale pink, with edges tinged in crimson.
You laughed, bitterly. Of course.
Of course your body would betray you like this.
You kept it secret, even as the petals came more frequently â a slow suffocation blooming inside you. You distanced yourself. Refused missions with Giyuu. Avoided his gaze. Every time he looked at you with that same unreadable expression, your throat clenched and petals tickled the back of your tongue.
But you werenât dying fast enough to stop loving him.
And that was the cruelest part.
You didnât mean for him to find out.
You thought you had more time â time to figure out if you wanted the petals surgically removed and lose your feelings forever⊠or let them choke you quietly.
But he came to check on you after three weeks of avoidance.
âI heard you were injured,â he said from the doorway.
You tried to smile. âNothing I couldnât handle.â
He stepped closer. âThen why have you been avoiding me?â
You could feel the petals in your throat, panic swelling in your lungs.
âYou have,â he said, gaze narrowing.
Your chest began to shake. The pain flared suddenly, sharply â like your body knew it couldnât keep the secret anymore.
Then, you coughed. Hard. A wet, choking sound that startled even him.
And with it, you spat out a spray of petals. They spilled down your chin, across your hand. Blood followed.
Giyuu stood frozen, horror dawning on his face.
You didnât meet his eyes.
He stepped forward. âWho?â
Your shoulders trembled. âDoes it matter?â
He knelt beside you. âTell me.â
ââŠYou already know,â you whispered.
Silence. Like a blade drawn in the dark.
âI never wanted you to find out,â you said, voice breaking. âI was trying to forget. I know you donât feel the same. You made that clear.â
His expression was unreadable â not cold, but cracked. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you and didnât know if he was allowed.
âI didnât know,â he said, quietly. âI didnât realizeâŠâ
âYou werenât supposed to,â you said, trying to stand. âPlease just go. I donât want your pity.â
âI donât pity you.â
You laughed, sharp and broken. âThen what is it? Guilt? Regret? You told me not to fall for you. I shouldâve listened.â
He caught your wrist gently before you could walk past him. His hand was warm. Steady.
âI didnât say that because I didnât care,â he murmured. âI said it because I didnât think I deserved someone like you.â
âI thought⊠if I kept my distance, youâd forget me,â he said. âBut I kept watching you. Listening to you laugh with others. I told myself I didnât care. But when I stopped seeing you⊠it hurt more than I expected.â
You looked up, shocked. He met your eyes, and for the first time, there was no wall there. Just a flood of something raw. Painful. Real.
âMaybe I was wrong,â he whispered. âMaybe I do feel something. I just⊠realized too late.â
âBut if thereâs still time,â he said, voice shaking, âlet me stay. Donât go through this alone.â
And you â broken, aching, and still in love â let him hold you as petals fell between you.
You knew Obanai long before you understood him.
He was difficult â sharp-tongued, secretive, constantly glaring through that bandaged mouth like the world owed him something. Others feared him, or at least avoided him. But not you.
You saw past the bitterness. Past the fangs.
You saw the man who fed Kaburamaru with gentle fingers. Who always sat with his back to a wall and never let anyone walk behind him. Who carried more shame than one person should, tucked between the stripes of his haori.
You didnât know exactly why, or when, but you fell in love with him.
It was quiet. Private. You didnât expect anything from it â just being near him was enough. You followed him on missions when you could, patched up his wounds in silence, listened to his gruff complaints with a small smile.
That meant something. He didnât let anyone stay.
But you werenât blind. You saw the way his eyes softened when Mitsuri Kanroji was around â like someone had let sunlight into his dark little world. Youâd catch him watching her with an expression you never received, even in your quietest moments together.
It gutted you. But you smiled anyway.
Because if loving him meant just being there, youâd take it.
Until one night, you coughed into your hand â and watched a trail of crimson-edged petals fall between your fingers.
You didnât tell anyone.
Hanahaki was an embarrassing disease â not because of the petals, or the slow, excruciating death, but because it meant you had loved someone who did not, could not, love you back.
And in your case, that truth hurt more than the blood in your throat.
You kept it hidden well. Even as the flowers grew. Even as it became harder to breathe during training, harder to walk without your chest pulling tight with pain. Youâd excuse yourself when the coughing got worse. Wash away the petals. Pretend you were just tired.
But Obanai wasnât stupid. He noticed.
âYouâre paler than usual,â he muttered one afternoon after you nearly collapsed during sword drills. âStop pushing yourself.â
âIâm fine,â you said quickly.
âYouâre not.â He stepped closer. âAre you injured?â
You looked up at him â his mismatched eyes narrowed, concern barely veiled beneath that constant irritation â and your chest clenched with the pain of another petal pressing against your ribs.
âNo,â you said. âNot in the way you think.â
He frowned but didnât press. He never did. He respected boundaries â maybe because he had so many of his own.
You wanted to scream at him. Tell me to stop. Tell me you love me back. Tell me anything.
And when you saw him the next day with Mitsuri, his smile hidden beneath his scarf, his voice low and soft â something in you cracked completely.
It was Kaburamaru who found you.
Youâd collapsed on a mossy trail outside the estate, clutching your chest, blood pooling between petals that had fallen like snow around you. The snake slithered from Obanaiâs shoulder, sensing something wrong, and raced to where you lay gasping.
By the time Obanai found you, petals clung to your lips, your eyes glassy with pain and fading light.
âNo,â he breathed, kneeling beside you. âNo. Noâwhat happened?â
âFigured⊠you'd come.â
âDonât talk.â His hands hovered helplessly over your bloodied clothes. âDonât move. Weâll get Shinobu. Weâll fix this.â
You coughed again, violently, more flowers spilling from your mouth. Kaburamaru curled around your neck, gentle and protective, as if sensing you were leaving.
âItâs Hanahaki,â you whispered, barely audible.
You laughed, wet and broken. âDonât look so surprised.â
âWhoââ His voice cracked. âWho did this to you?â
You looked up at him. âYou.â
Silence. He flinched like youâd stabbed him.
âI didnât⊠mean for you to find out,â you said. âYou were always kind⊠even when you didnât have to be. I knew you loved her. You never tried to hide it.â
âIââ He shook his head. âNo. I didnât know. I didnât seeâŠâ
Your breath hitched. âThatâs the worst part. You didnât see me. Even when I was right in front of you.â
Kaburamaru let out a soft hiss, coiling closer to you, nuzzling beneath your chin as if he, too, was mourning.
Obanai looked at you â really looked â and something in his face shattered.
âYou shouldâve told me,â he said, his voice breaking. âI was so blinded by a love I thought I deserved⊠I didnât see the one I needed was beside me the whole time.â
You blinked slowly, your body growing cold. âDonât say that now⊠itâs too late.â
âNo,â he whispered. âNo, donât say that.â
He pulled you into his arms, clutching you like he could stitch you back together with sheer will. His scarf unraveled, falling to your lap. His cheek pressed to your forehead.
âIâm sorry,â he said, again and again, like a prayer. âIâm sorry. Please stay.â
The petals stopped falling.
And in the stillness of that forest trail, Obanai Iguro held your lifeless body, surrounded by the flowers you had choked on in silence. His only companion the snake that curled around your throat like a necklace of grief.
He had loved the wrong person.
And by the time he realized the truthâŠ
Muichiro Tokito & Older Sister Reader
You remembered the day Yuuichirou died like it was still living behind your eyes.
You had watched your twin brothers â both just children â hold each other in the ruin of your home. Muichiro, bloody and broken. Yuuichirou, dying and stubborn. You had tried to cradle them both, screaming for help that never came in time.
He was your younger brother, but after that, Muichiro stopped being a child.
He stopped being anything, really.
There was a hole in him after Yuuichirou died â a blank, shifting space where memory should have lived. You watched your sweet, gentle brother become empty-eyed, calm in a way that scared you. Detached. Dangerous.
Even as he forgot the name of your parents, forgot the seasons, forgot his own birthday â he remembered your voice. Your scent. The way youâd pull him into your arms on cold nights like you were still trying to protect him from the world.
He didn't always say your name. Sometimes he just called you "Nee-san," in a voice so soft it made your chest ache.
You joined the Demon Slayer Corps with him, even though you werenât as fast or strong. You just⊠couldnât leave him alone in this world.
You knew that his emotions were frayed. That he didnât laugh anymore. But sometimes, when heâd look at you â just for a second â you saw the boy he used to be.
It was right after Final Selection. Genya Shinazugawa was angry â at life, at demons, at his brother, at himself. He lashed out at everyone. You included.
The first time you met, he insulted you for being âweak.â Said people like you wouldnât last. That you were just dragging your âdead-eyed bratâ of a brother around.
You didnât fight back. You never did.
But the words lodged in your chest. Not because they hurt you â but because Muichiro had heard them.
He didnât react. Not at first.
He just stood there, staring at Genya, face unreadable.
And that night, you coughed up your first petal.
It was small. Pale. Delicate.
You blinked at it in your palm for a long time before crushing it in your fist and telling yourself it wasnât what you thought it was.
You had fallen in love with someone who would never look at you as anything other than another weak link in his chain of resentment.
You, who had never once asked for anything in return.
You, who only wanted to feel something again â to be loved by someone in a way Muichiro could no longer offer.
Muichiro noticed your coughing first. The way you hesitated on missions. How your haori began to look too big for your shrinking frame.
âAre you sick?â he asked one morning, frowning at the trail of crimson on your sleeve.
âNo,â you said, lying with a practiced smile. âJust tired.â
He didnât push. He never did.
But you saw the crack of worry in his gaze. Heâd always been blunt, forgetful â but when it came to you, he watched. He remembered.
He was trying so hard to hold on to you.
And you were slipping through his fingers, one petal at a time.
You collapsed during a mission. Blood and blossoms soaked your uniform. Your blade lay forgotten in the dirt, petals scattered around you like snow.
Genya was the one who carried you back to the Estate, eyes wide with horror. You were unconscious, but the flowers never stopped coming.
When Muichiro arrived, he didnât ask what happened.
He just stood at your bedside, watching the rise and fall of your chest, eerily calm.
âWhy?â he asked no one. Or maybe he was asking Yuuichirou.
Your lungs were shredded. You couldnât speak properly. Your fingers twitched toward him.
âMuichiro,â you rasped, blood trailing down your chin.
He sat beside you, blinking slowly. âNee-san.â
âI⊠Iâm sorry I couldnât stay longer,â you whispered. âIâm glad⊠you remembered me.â
Kaburamaru â no, that was Obanaiâs snake â wasnât here. That was a memory.
Genya stood at the door, fists clenched, eyes red.
âI didnât know,â he choked. âI didnât meanâif I hadnât said those thingsââ
You looked at him. Smiled, gently.
âIt wasnât your fault.â
Muichiro was still holding your hand.
Even as your chest rose slower. Even as the blood thickened.
Even as the petals finally stopped.
When your heart stilled, he didnât cry.
And somewhere, inside his mind, your name began to unravel. The edges of your voice, your face, your warmth â all began to blur like smoke.
âSheâs gone,â Genya said, barely holding it together.
Muichiro looked down at you. Then away.
ââŠWho was she again?â
Muichiro walked out into the sunlight, the petals still clinging to his sleeves.
