— the bodyguard and the secret.
⋆⁺₊⋆ pairing: fem!reader x sanemi
⋆⁺₊⋆ summary: sanemi shinazugawa. your bodyguard by order, your tormentor by nature. but while he glares at shadows, he doesn’t realize the real secret is the one you carry inside you.
Morning came slow. The sky was a dull gray, soft mist curling between the trees as faint light broke through the branches. Dew clung to the grass, and the dying embers of the fire hissed when a drop of water hit them.
You blinked awake first, head still resting lightly against Sanemi’s shoulder. For a second, you forgot where you were—only the weight of his haori draped over your body and the sound of Obanai’s faint snoring reminded you that you were safe, at least for now.
Sanemi stirred beside you, eyes opening just as you shifted away. Neither of you spoke, but the air between you still felt heavy—charged with everything that had happened the night before and everything neither of you had said.
Obanai was already up by the time you stretched, swinging his sword with practiced efficiency. “You two sleep well?” he asked dryly, though the slight glint in his eyes told you he was teasing more than scolding.
Sanemi grunted, standing and dusting off his haori. “Better than you look.”
Obanai ignored the jab, checking the small map Kagaya had provided. “It’s a long trek,” he said, his tone shifting to serious. “These men weren’t just bandits. The whole gang operated out of a hideout in the northern mountains… completely off any trade routes. It’ll take at least two days to reach the nearest Wisteria House if we don’t stop much.”
You frowned, tightening your uniform belt. “Two days through mountain terrain?”
“Secluded mountains,” Obanai clarified, glancing at you. “And if the rumors are right, it’s not just humans up there anymore.”
Sanemi’s head turned sharply. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Obanai folded the map. “You’ll see when we get there.”
A small chill crept up your spine. The forest felt different that morning—quieter than it should have been, like even the birds didn’t want to follow you three into whatever waited ahead.
Sanemi slung his sword over his back and turned to you. “Stay close.”
You met his gaze, and though his tone was as gruff as ever, there was something unspoken behind it—a warning wrapped in worry. You nodded, giving a faint smile before adjusting your own pack.
Obanai stretched, already walking ahead. “Try not to flirt the whole way.”
Sanemi muttered a curse under his breath, and you bit back a laugh as you followed, the faint warmth of his shoulder still lingering on yours.
You were fixing your ripped uniform when Sanemi’s hand shot out, catching your arm gently but firmly.
“Hey,” he muttered, his voice low enough that Obanai wouldn’t hear. His sharp eyes trailed over your wounds, then flicked back to your face. “Why the hell haven’t you healed yourself yet?”
You blinked at him, surprised by the frustration in his tone. “Because,” you whispered, leaning in closer so only he could hear, “if Obanai sees me magically looking fine after those injuries, he’ll start asking questions. And I’m not exactly ready to explain that.”
Sanemi’s jaw tightened, teeth gritting audibly. He knew you were right—damn it, you were always right—but it didn’t stop that protective fire from twisting in his chest. “You shouldn’t be walking around like this,” he muttered. “You’re still bleeding through those damn bandages.”
You offered a small, tired smile. “I’ll live.”
He glared at you, eyes flashing with that mix of worry and irritation that had become far too familiar lately. “You’re reckless,” he said quietly.
“You’re bossy,” you shot back, a small smirk tugging at your lips.
A few paces ahead, Obanai slowed, his head turning slightly toward you two. “You done whispering your sweet nothings back there?”
Both your heads snapped up in sync. Sanemi glowered while you stifled an embarrassed cough.
“The hell are you talking about?” Sanemi barked, his ears faintly pink.
Obanai’s tone was lazy, teasing. “Just wondering how long I’m supposed to pretend I don’t hear the two of you whispering like school kids.”
You were about to respond when Sanemi exhaled sharply, then turned to you again. “Forget it. You’re not walking.”
Before you could protest further, he crouched slightly and jerked his thumb toward his back. “Get on.”
Your face flushed instantly. “Sanemi, I can walk—”
He shot you a look that said don’t test me. “You can barely stand without wincing.”
“Sanemi, no. It’s okay I’m—”
Obanai pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. “For crying out loud, just get on his damn back so we can move before nightfall.”
You stared between the two of them, utterly mortified, before finally giving in. “Fine,” you muttered, climbing onto Sanemi’s back. His hands instinctively steadied your thighs as he stood, and your breath hitched when he murmured, “Told you I got you.”
Obanai walked ahead, shaking his head. “If I hear one more sappy thing out of either of you, I’m feeding myself to a demon.”
Sanemi smirked behind him. “Might do the world a favor.”
“Keep talking,” Obanai shot back, “and I’ll let you carry me next.”
You couldn’t help it, you laughed softly against Sanemi’s shoulder, and even he couldn’t hide the faintest twitch of a smile as the three of you started the long trek toward the mountains.
The trail wound higher as the morning went on, fog curling around the treetops. The path was narrow and slick from last night’s rain, forcing the three of you into single file. Obanai led ahead with his crow circling above, muttering now and then about the terrain, while you stayed perched on Sanemi’s back.
Your chin found its way to his shoulder without you even meaning to. The warmth of his body was grounding, and for a moment, the ache in your side dulled. You exhaled softly, and the faint brush of your breath against his neck made him tense.
Sanemi didn’t say a word, but his grip on your thighs tightened slightly. The heat creeping up his neck was impossible to ignore since he could feel your breath fan against the curve of his jaw, the ghost of your fingers occasionally grazing the exposed part of his chest where his uniform hung open.
“…You’re makin’ this hard to focus,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
You blinked, lips curving faintly. “How so?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he gritted out, his tone low, voice rough around the edges.
You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing his collarbone on purpose this time. “It’s not my fault you’re so warm.”
Sanemi’s jaw clenched, and if Obanai hadn’t been a few paces ahead, he might’ve tossed you off just to cool himself down. But instead, he muttered, “You’re impossible,” and shifted your weight a little higher on his back, his hands firm on the back of your thighs.
You rested your head against his shoulder again, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you murmured, “You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s true,” he mumbled.
Obanai’s voice broke the quiet suddenly, startling both of you. “If you two are done turning this hike into a love story, we should pick up the pace.”
Sanemi scowled, glaring daggers ahead. “You ever shut up?”
“Not when you’re this easy to tease.”
You stifled a laugh against Sanemi’s shoulder, and he growled low in his throat. But even then, he didn’t set you down. His pulse was racing, his muscles tense, but his grip never faltered, and he never once asked you to move away.
The hours passed in heavy silence.
By midday, the forest had darkened—the clouds rolling thick and low over the mountains, smothering what little light filtered through the canopy. The air smelled faintly of rain and iron, and even Obanai slowed his pace, his hand never straying far from his sword.
“Storm’s rolling in,” he muttered, his tone clipped. “No sunlight, no protection.”
Sanemi’s steps faltered. “You think there’s one nearby?”
You lifted your head slightly from Sanemi’s shoulder, peering through the mist ahead. Everything felt… wrong. The forest was too still—no birds, no insects, just the dull echo of dripping water.
Then the metallic scent hit you.
Obanai crouched first, his fingers brushing the dirt. The ground was streaked with blood—dark, half-dried, leading deeper into the woods. He frowned beneath his bandages. “Fresh. Maybe a few hours old.”
The scent rushed through you like a spark to dry wood—sharp, hot, and far too tempting. Your throat tightened, and your breath hitched sharply against Sanemi’s neck.
He froze mid-step. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, his tone low but urgent.
You swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes shut. “N-nothing. I’m fine.”
Your hands trembled where they rested around his shoulders. The smell—the memory—it clawed its way back, vivid and nauseating.
The warmth of their blood as you drank, desperate and half-conscious, trying to stay alive.
You felt sick. Disgusted.
And yet, the hunger whispered again, deep in your chest.
Sanemi’s voice cut through the fog. “You’re shaking.”
You didn’t answer, afraid your voice would betray too much.
Obanai straightened up ahead, calling back, “Trail’s fresh. We follow it, but stay sharp.”
Sanemi’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing more. He adjusted your weight a little higher on his back, one arm steadying you by instinct. You kept your eyes away from the ground—away from the blood.
Your heart pounded painfully as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder.
The clouds above rumbled, the first drops of rain beginning to fall, and you couldn’t tell which scared you more… the demons hiding in the forest, or the one quietly stirring inside of you.
The forest grew thicker, darker—the canopy above so dense it nearly drowned out the gray light.
“Stay sharp,” Obanai said quietly, his voice low but edged with warning. “Something’s close. I can feel it.”
Sanemi grunted in acknowledgment, scanning the path ahead. His hand shifted, thumb resting against the edge of his hilt—ready to draw in a heartbeat. You could feel his heartbeat pounding through his back, his breath shallow but steady.
The smell hit you both almost at once.
Obanai froze mid-step. “What the hell…”
You lifted your head slightly over Sanemi’s shoulder and immediately wished you hadn’t. The clearing ahead was painted in red and gray—blood soaked deep into the earth, bodies strewn like discarded dolls. Some were missing limbs; others looked untouched except for the absence of life in their eyes.
A chill tore through you. Your stomach churned.
Sanemi stopped dead in his tracks, jaw tightening. Even he had seen plenty in his years as a Hashira, but this… this was something different.
He shifted you gently off his back, lowering you to the ground but keeping a firm hand at your arm. “Stay behind me,” he murmured.
Obanai crouched near one of the corpses, his voice unnervingly calm. “No bite marks.” He brushed away some of the dirt near the body, then stood, frowning behind his bandages. “This wasn’t feeding.”
Sanemi’s grip on his sword tightened. “Then what the fuck was it?”
Obanai’s eyes flicked to the surrounding trees, where more bodies hung slumped against trunks, their throats slit clean. “Killing for sport,” he muttered grimly.
The rain began to fall harder then. You turned your head away, breathing through your mouth as the iron scent grew stronger. The sight of so much blood made your vision waver, your throat dry.
You clenched your fists until your nails bit your palms, forcing the hunger back down. Not now. Not here.
Sanemi noticed the faint tremor in your hands again. Without looking, he stepped slightly closer—his presence a silent shield. You could feel his energy shift, the same protective intensity that always surrounded him before a fight.
The forest went eerily quiet.
You didn’t hear it at first.
The faintest shift in the air, prickle down your spine, the pressure in your chest suddenly tightening. Something was watching.
Your breath caught. “Sanemi—”
He moved before you could finish.
In one blinding motion, he spun, yanking you behind him as his blade hissed through the air. Steel met flesh with a sharp, wet slice.
A shriek tore through the clearing.
Two pale, veined arms fell to the ground, twitching violently before melting into ash. The creature that had lunged for you both staggered backward, blood splattering across the dirt. Its eyes glowed an ugly, feral yellow beneath the veil of rain.
Sanemi planted his feet between you and the demon, his chest rising sharply with each controlled breath. “Stay down,” he barked, his sword angled toward the monster.
But before either of you could blink, the demon’s body twitched—bones cracking, flesh snapping back into place. Its arms began to reform, sinew and muscle weaving grotesquely together until its claws gleamed anew.
“Of course it fucking regenerates,” Sanemi hissed under his breath.
Obanai stepped up beside him, eyes narrowing. “Not a normal one. The aura’s different.”
The demon hissed, crouched low—its long limbs tense like a predator ready to strike. Rain dripped from its jaw, a slow grin splitting its face.
“Hashira,” it rasped, its voice low and cruel. “Finally.”
It leapt, vanishing into the mist.
“Shit—!” Sanemi swung upward instinctively, blade meeting claws midair. Sparks flew. The impact sent him sliding back a step, mud spraying beneath his sandals.
The creature launched off a nearby tree, landing high above them in the branches, crouched and grinning. Its body was wiry and lean, veins pulsing black under translucent skin. Its eyes—slit and bright—darted between Sanemi, Obanai, and you.
It tilted its head. “Which one screams the loudest, I wonder?”
Sanemi growled low, rage flashing through him. His voice was like a growl of thunder when he spoke.
“You’re not gonna live long enough to find out.”
The demon lunged again—too fast for most eyes to follow—but Sanemi had already read its movement. His blade met it mid-air, every swing fueled with barely contained fury. Obanai’s strikes darted alongside his like flashes of silver, forcing the creature back until it skidded against the mud.
Rain fell harder now, each drop hissing when it hit the demon’s blood.
Sanemi exhaled once, sharp and controlled. His breathing slowed, focused.
“Wind Breathing… Fourth Form—Rising Dust Storm!”
He leapt high, twisting through the air. His blade cut down with blinding speed, the gust that followed roaring through the clearing like a small hurricane. The force split the demon clean in half before its body even hit the ground.
A final, strangled shriek.. then silence.
The creature’s remains disintegrated to ash, the storm wind scattering them into nothing.
Sanemi landed smoothly, his blade still humming from the power of the swing. He straightened, flicking the blood off the edge with a sharp swish before sliding it back into its sheath.
Obanai adjusted his grip on his own sword and muttered, “Show-off.”
You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your pulse still racing. “Well…” you said, forcing a grin despite your nerves, “that was easy.”
Sanemi shot you a look, one brow raised. “Don’t jinx it.”
And right then, you felt it again.
That same chill that crawled across your skin.
It wasn’t coming from one direction this time. It was everywhere.
Your stomach dropped. “Wait—”
Obanai’s head snapped toward the trees, Kaburamaru hissing sharply in warning. Sanemi’s hand was already back on his sword, muscles coiling.
From beyond the treeline, faint figures began to emerge—shadows moving in unison, too many to count.
“Shit,” Sanemi muttered, his tone low and grim. “We’ve got company.”
And this time… it wasn’t just one.
Figures burst from the mist—first two, then six, then a dozen more. Pale eyes gleamed from the darkness, and the sound of claws scraping bark filled the air like nails down stone.
“Son of a—” Sanemi barely finished before cutting down the first one that lunged from his right. Its body split clean, blood spraying across the mud as it fell apart.
Obanai stepped forward, Kaburamaru hissing again as his sword curved in a fluid arc, slicing through another demon’s throat. “They’re coordinated,” he snapped, scanning the tree line. “This isn’t random!”
You turned your head just as another demon came barreling from the left. Before you could react, Sanemi moved like lightning, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind him, his blade already out again.
“Stay close,” he barked, blocking a claw swipe that would’ve torn through your chest.
You nodded, heart hammering. You tried to keep your breathing steady, to think, but the demons weren’t attacking blindly. They weren’t even trying to get past the two Hashira anymore.
And every single one of their hungry eyes was locked on you.
Obanai’s strikes grew sharper, faster—his serpentine blade weaving through the chaos as he noticed the same thing. “They’re not trying to kill us,” he hissed. “They want ________.”
Sanemi snarled, his temper flaring. “Like hell they do!”
But it was true… you could see it now.
Every pair of glowing eyes. Every lunge. Every clawed hand—aimed straight at you.
Your heart pounded so loud you could hear it in your ears.
Obanai moved in to cover your flank, blades slicing through the swarm as blood painted the dirt. Sanemi stayed planted in front, protecting you with relentless precision, each swing driven by anger and instinct.
The three of you stood surrounded—demons snarling from every angle—but Sanemi didn’t budge. His voice was low, dark, and full of promise.
“They’re not touching her,” he growled, raising his blade again.
And when the next demon lunged, he met it head-on, the storm in his eyes promising death to anything that dared try.
Sanemi’s hand flexed around the hilt of his sword. His jaw tightened, fury flickering in his pale eyes.
“Stay put,” he said again, and before you could even breathe a reply, he was gone—a flash of movement that split the mist like lightning.
“Wind Breathing.. Fifth Form: Cold Mountain Wind!”
His voice cut through the chaos.
He swung once, twice—each arc of his blade creating violent gusts that roared through the clearing. The wind howled, sharp as blades, slicing through the cluster of demons that surged forward.
Limbs and heads tore away as blood sprayed across the dirt, dissipating in the swirling air.
The sheer force of it sent the rest staggering back, their snarls twisting into shrieks.
Before the last echoes faded, Obanai moved in. Kaburamaru hissed and slithered along his shoulders as he dashed past Sanemi’s side, his form fluid, deadly precise.
“Serpent Breathing.. Fourth Form: Twin-Headed Reptile!”
His blade danced through the air in serpentine arcs, striking two demons at once, twisting with impossible grace before snapping through their necks. The hiss of steel and serpent blended into one fluid rhythm until silence reclaimed the forest again.
Ash drifted around you like black snow.
No more movement. No more sound—just the slow, uneven sound of your own breathing.
Sanemi lowered his sword, chest rising and falling. Obanai flicked his blade to the side, shaking off the demon blood as Kaburamaru coiled back around his arm.
You glanced around, scanning the field of disintegrating bodies.
The demons were gone. For now.
Sanemi exhaled sharply through his nose and turned back to you, eyes narrowing as they scanned you from head to toe. “You hurt?”
You shook your head, still trembling.
Obanai, wiping a streak of blood off his sleeve, gave a low hum. “That was too many for this region,” he muttered. “Something’s off.”
Sanemi nodded. “They weren’t hunting for blood.”
His gaze met yours—hard, unreadable.
Obanai turned sharply, his mismatched eyes glinting under the dull sky.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, his tone sharper than his blade. “Demons don’t swarm like that unless something’s drawing them in.”
You froze mid-step, your throat suddenly dry.
“I…” you started, voice unsteady, “I don’t know.”
Obanai’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t lie.”
Before you could even think of an answer, Sanemi stepped forward—placing himself right between the two of you. His tone was calm, but his eyes said otherwise.
“Drop it, Iguro,” he muttered. “You’re readin’ too much into it.”
Obanai frowned. “You saw it the same way I did. Every single one of those demons went for her. Why?”
Sanemi exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Hell if I know. Maybe she’s got a strong scent. Maybe one of ‘em had a grudge. You think demons have logic?”
Obanai stared at him for a long moment—his silence saying he didn’t buy it.
Kaburamaru hissed quietly, head tilting in your direction, and it made your stomach twist.
After a beat, the serpent hashira finally looked away.
“Fine. But I’m telling the Master when we’re back.”
Sanemi’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t reply.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your chest.
Those demons knew something, and it was not sitting right with you.
Obanai started ahead, scanning the path. Sanemi lingered behind, his gaze flicking toward you.
You nodded, even though your hands were trembling. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” he said quietly, eyes softening just slightly. “You’re shaking.”
Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, Obanai called from up ahead, “If you two are done whispering, we’ve got a trail to follow.”
Sanemi rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath before moving forward again, but this time, his hand never strayed far from his sword, and his body stayed angled protectively in front of you.
He wasn’t letting a single damn thing touch you again.
After another long day, the three of you set camp for the night. The campfire hissed and cracked, sending small sparks drifting into the damp air. The smell of rain still lingered, clinging to the dirt and trees around them.
You all sat in a quiet circle—Obanai across from you, Kaburamaru draped loosely around his shoulders, and Sanemi beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours whenever he shifted.
For a while, the only sound was the fire. Then Obanai spoke.
“I’ll ask once more,” he said, his voice calm but deliberate. “Why did those demons target you?”
You froze. The flames blurred for a second as your heart hammered in your chest.
Sanemi’s gaze flicked to you—a silent warning, a quiet ‘be careful’.
You exhaled shakily, then met Obanai’s eyes. “It’s true that I’m a healer,” you began softly. “But… I’m not just that. I have healing capabilities that are stronger than most. I can recover faster than others.. and sometimes, I can use it on others too.”
Obanai tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on you. Kaburamaru lifted his head too, flicking his tongue curiously.
“The Master wanted to keep it quiet,” you continued. “Because something like that could draw attention, from humans or demons. Maybe that’s what they sensed.”
For a long, tense moment, no one said a word.
The fire crackled once, breaking the silence.
Then Obanai exhaled quietly, leaning back with his arms crossed.
“…Makes sense,” he muttered. “Demons are drawn to blood. Yours must smell different.”
He looked satisfied with that reasoning—no suspicion, no sharp tone, just a subtle nod. Kaburamaru even coiled lower, as if at ease.
Sanemi relaxed a little beside you, his hand brushing against your sleeve under the shadows of his haori, a silent gesture that said good job.
Obanai stood, stretching his legs before glancing toward the treeline. “We should rest in shifts. It’s going to rain again before dawn.”
He disappeared toward his side of the camp, leaving you and Sanemi alone by the fire.
The flames flickered softly, casting gold light over both of your faces. The air had quieted again, peaceful now, or as peaceful as it could be for two people tangled in secrets.
Sanemi gave a small, tired sigh. “Guess you convinced him,” he said quietly, watching the fire instead of you.
You nodded. “Yeah. Guess I did.”
But your heart still ached a little, because you knew it wasn’t the full truth.
You hesitated, then slowly leaned over until your head came to rest on his shoulder. You felt him stiffen instantly—muscles tensing beneath his uniform—but he didn’t push you away. If anything, he exhaled through his nose, quiet and heavy, like he was trying not to show how much that small touch had caught him off guard.
“…You should rest,” he muttered after a long pause.
“I know,” you whispered, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I just—”
You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “What if more come? What if those demons weren’t the only ones hunting me? It doesn’t make sense, Sanemi. Why me?”
He turned slightly, enough to glance down at you. Your words carried that small tremor of fear that made his jaw tighten.
Without saying a thing, he shifted—his arm moving around your shoulders and pulling you closer. His grip was firm but protective, his warmth grounding you instantly.
“They won’t,” he said flatly, his voice low but certain. “I won’t let them.”
You looked up at him, your chest tightening. The firelight danced across his face, softening the sharp lines you were so used to.
There was no anger in his expression this time. Just quiet resolve.
You let out a small breath, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned into him. “You promise?”
He grunted—not quite a yes, but not a no either.
The kind of answer only Sanemi would give.
And for now, it was enough.
The thunder rumbled again in the distance, but all you felt was his heartbeat against your shoulder, steady and strong—a silent promise that no matter what the night held, he wasn’t letting you face it alone.
The rest of the night passed quietly.
You stayed there, your head against Sanemi’s shoulder until sleep finally took you. He didn’t move, even as the fire dwindled to faint embers—his arm stayed around you, steady and protective through the chill.
By the time dawn broke, the skies were already dark and swollen with clouds. The air was thick with the promise of rain.
It hit about an hour into your journey. A steady drizzle at first, then turning into a relentless downpour that drenched everything in its path.
Obanai led the way through the narrow mountain trail, his haori plastered to his back, Kaburamaru coiled tightly around his neck. “Watch your step,” he called out, his voice barely carrying through the storm. “These slopes will turn to mud fast.”
You trudged behind him, sandals sinking into the slick earth, the rain soaking through your torn uniform. Each step sent a dull ache through your body, but before you could stumble, a familiar hand caught yours.
He didn’t say a word, just kept your hand firmly in his and pulled you close against him as you walked. His other hand stayed at his sword, thumb resting on the hilt—always ready. Every time the wind howled, his grip on you tightened, almost like he thought the storm itself might take you away.
Despite the chaos around you, that touch was your anchor.
Your heart steadied, until you noticed something else.
No birds. No rustle of branches. No sound except for rain.
You slowed slightly, glancing around through the gray haze of mist. “Sanemi,” you whispered, barely audible. “It’s quiet.”
He didn’t look back, but his jaw flexed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Too quiet.”
Obanai stopped ahead, his serpent blade angled down but ready. Kaburamaru lifted his head, tongue flicking out. “No animals. Not even insects,” Obanai said, eyes scanning the trees. “That’s not normal for this region.”
The three of you stood still for a moment, the rain pounding down hard enough to blur your vision. The mountain felt suffocatingly still, as if the very forest was holding its breath.
Sanemi shifted closer, releasing your hand only to slip his arm around your waist, protective and firm. “Stay with me,” he said quietly, low enough for only you to hear.
You nodded, swallowing hard as thunder rolled through the clouds above.
The silence pressed in tighter. Every drop of rain seemed louder, and deep in your gut, you could feel it.. the air itself was wrong.
Something was out there. Watching. Waiting.
Then the ground gave out.
A deep, cracking sound split through the air—the mud beneath your feet shifting, crumbling, breaking apart.
“Wait—!” Obanai shouted, reaching out, but it was too late.
The edge of the path collapsed under the weight of the rain-soaked earth. You felt your footing disappear, your body pitching forward. For a heartbeat, everything moved in slow motion—your arms flailing, the world tilting, the blur of gray sky and green forest spinning together.
Sanemi’s voice tore through the storm. You saw the flash of his hand reaching for you, his eyes wide with horror, his body lunging before he even thought. Your fingertips brushed—just barely—until something moved behind them.
Your eyes widened. “Behind you!” you screamed, your voice breaking.
From the darkness of the treeline, dozens of red eyes ignited all at once. A swarm of demons burst from the fog—snarling, crawling, charging.
“Shit!” Obanai hissed, drawing his blade.
Sanemi spun around, his expression murderous—ready to tear through all of them—when a massive blur slammed into his side.
The impact sent him flying, crashing into Obanai as they both hit the ground and rolled through the mud. The enormous demon that tackled them growled, its claws sinking into the earth as its many eyes glowed with hunger.
The air ripped from your lungs as you fell.
You rolled hard down the steep hill. Branches snapped, rocks cut into your skin, the world spinning violently. You tried to grab at something, anything, but the rain-slick mud offered no grip.
You came to a stop when your body collided with a huge rock, the impact knocking the air from your chest. The world around you spun, your vision swimming as pain bloomed through every inch of your body. Cuts, bruises—your limbs trembled, heavy and useless. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but agony shot through your shoulder, forcing you to collapse again.
You groaned, wincing as you coughed, a thin stream of blood spilling past your lips. The taste of iron filled your mouth, sharp and metallic. Slowly, with trembling arms, you managed to sit up, clutching your shoulder.
A hiss escaped you as your eyes darted down, your ankle was bent at an unnatural angle, already swelling, the bone likely fractured. You tried to straighten it and immediately cried out, gripping the mud beneath your fingers.
Rain continued to fall in slow, heavy drops, mingling with the blood that trailed down your arm. You could barely breathe. Every inhale burned your ribs, and every exhale came out shallow.
You glanced up the cliff, but it was impossible to see through the haze of rain and fog. The mountain was silent—eerily silent. No crows. No movement. No sound of Sanemi or Obanai. Just you, the pain, and the growing dread curling in your chest.
And then, a voice broke through the trees.
Your head snapped toward the sound, your heart seizing.
Out from the mist stepped a tall figure, his posture relaxed, bare feet pressing into the wet soil. Strange blue markings traced across his skin, glowing faintly under the gray light. His hair was damp from the rain, and his golden eyes gleamed with something between curiosity and amusement.
“I’ve been waiting to meet you,” he said, his tone almost polite—almost.
Your pulse hammered in your ears. “Who.. who are you? How do you know about me?”
The man’s grin widened, faint but unnerving. “You’ve caught quite a bit of attention lately,” he said. “After Daki’s encounter… Lord Muzan became interested. Someone like you doesn’t just exist without reason.”
You froze. Your stomach dropped, the blood in your veins turning to ice.
“He sent me to find you,” the man continued casually, as if discussing the weather. “Alive, preferably.”
He tilted his head, watching you like a predator savoring the first flinch of its prey.
And though you didn’t yet know his name, the golden kanji glinting in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
Your breath caught in your throat as he began to walk toward you—slow, deliberate steps that made the mud squelch beneath his bare feet. Every instinct screamed run, but your body wouldn’t obey. You tried to scoot back, dragging yourself through the wet earth until your spine hit cold stone. There was nowhere left to go.
He stopped right in front of you, his shadow swallowing your small frame. Then, with unnerving calm, he crouched down until your faces were inches apart.
“Relax,” he murmured, smiling faintly. “You’ll make the pain worse.”
You stared up at him, trembling, trying to ignore how close he was. He looked almost human—almost—but those golden eyes gave him away, burning bright with a cruel amusement.
“Akaza,” he said simply, like it was a privilege to hear his name. “Upper Rank Three.”
The title hit like a blade to the gut. You froze, heart hammering so violently you could hear it.
His gaze flicked down to your twisted ankle, his smile widening as he hummed lowly. “So… the rumors were true.” He looked back up at you, tilting his head. “You can’t heal, can you?”
You swallowed hard, eyes darting away.
“That’s fascinating,” he continued, tone dripping with mockery. “Part demon, yet too fragile to regenerate. You’re not even complete.”
He reached out suddenly, his fingertips brushing against your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. You flinched at his touch, and that seemed to amuse him even more.
“How disappointing,” Akaza said softly, his smile curling into something cruel. “You’re weaker than I imagined.”
The words cut deeper than your injuries. Your breath hitched, every muscle tight with fear and humiliation as he leaned just a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Tell me, little half-breed…” His grin sharpened. “How long do you think you’ll last against me?”
Your heart thundered painfully against your ribs as his words sank in… half-breed. He knew.
Your mind raced. You could shift, tear into him before he had the chance to hurt you again, but if you did, and Sanemi or Obanai followed your scent, they’d see. They’d see the truth you’d been hiding for months. And Sanemi… his hatred for demons ran deeper than anyone’s. The thought alone made your chest ache.
But Akaza was watching you too closely, his golden eyes sharp, almost eager. “You’re thinking of it, aren’t you?” he murmured. “Changing.” His tone turned mocking. “Go ahead. Show me what you really are.”
You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Back off.”
You grit your teeth, the tremor in your voice betraying the fear you were trying to bury. “I said back off.”
Akaza’s hand shot out so fast you barely saw it. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip like iron. You yelped, trying to pull back, but it was useless—his strength was monstrous.
White-hot pain exploded through your arm as your hand bent in a way it shouldn’t. A scream tore from your throat before you could stop it. You clutched your wrist instinctively, gasping, eyes wide in horror as Akaza tilted his head, examining his work like a painter studying a fresh stroke.
“Hmm,” he mused softly. “I didn’t even use that much force.”
You could barely breathe. The pain, the fear, the burning rage—everything inside you screamed to fight back. To stop being helpless. But still, you hesitated. Because if you shifted, if you showed what you truly were…
There’d be no hiding it anymore.
Akaza’s hand lifted again—slow, deliberate—as if savoring the moment he’d break something else.
But before his fingers could touch you..
The roar cracked through the forest like thunder.
Akaza’s eyes flicked up, just in time to see Sanemi barrel down the slope, sandals digging trenches into the mud as he launched himself forward, sword already drawn and aimed to kill.
You barely registered your own gasp before steel met flesh.
Akaza vanished, flipping backward with inhuman ease, Sanemi’s blade slicing through where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. Obanai landed beside him a split second later, striking upward with a precise diagonal slash, but Akaza also dodged.
The Upper Rank only smiled, amused. “Persistent little guard dogs.”
Sanemi didn’t hear him since he was already turning, dropping to one knee beside you so fast the wind rushed around your ears. His hands hovered over your shoulders first, then your face, then your legs—everywhere—desperate, frantic, shaking.
“Hey.. hey, look at me,” he breathed out, voice raw. “Are you hurt? Did he.. fuck…. your hand, can you heal it? Can you—?”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The pain, the fear, the shock—it all tangled in your throat.
His eyes softened—barely—but enough.
“You’re okay,” he muttered like a vow, like a prayer. “I’ve got you. I’ve fucking got you.”
Behind him, Obanai repositioned himself, sword raised defensively, keeping his body between you and Akaza.
“Shinazugawa,” he warned low, “that one’s Upper Rank. Stay sharp.”
Sanemi didn’t look away from you, not even for a second.
“I know,” he growled, jaw clenched. “And he’s dead.”
Sanemi rose to his full height, planting himself between you and Akaza like a wall of snarling, barely-contained fury. His sword stayed clenched so tightly the leather grip creaked.
“Iguro,” he muttered without looking back, voice low, lethal, “we need to get her out of here.”
Obanai shifted closer, eyes flicking to your broken ankle, your mangled hand, the blood streaking your temple. His jaw tightened beneath his bandages when he noticed that you weren’t healing.
“I know,” he murmured. “But he’s not going to let us walk away.”
Akaza tilted his head, amused… almost delighted.
“Oh no,” he chimed, voice light, “she’s staying with me.”
Sanemi’s shoulders moved like a wolf raising its hackles.
“Over my dead fucking body.”
Then rustling. Leaves trembled. Branches cracked. The forest exhaled.
From every direction, dozens of eyes glimmered in the rain-dimmed light. The scent hit first—rot, malice, hunger.
Sanemi and Obanai cursed in unison.
“Tch, seriously?” Sanemi spat, tightening his grip.
Obanai slid a foot back, positioning himself so your injured body remained behind both of them. “They’ve been waiting.”
Akaza didn’t even bother looking at the gathering demons. He just smiled—slow, anticipating—like someone who already knew the ending.
The swarm launched first and Sanemi moved instantly. Wind exploded around him as he met the first wave head-on, sword carving through necks like he’d been born doing it.
Obanai followed a split second later, body weaving through the chaos with serpentine precision, striking clean and silent.
Mud splashed. Bodies fell. Heads rolled.
But for every demon that collapsed, three more emerged from the shadows.
Akaza disappeared—only to reappear mid-air above Sanemi with a spinning kick. Sanemi blocked just in time, skidding backward through the wet dirt, teeth gritted.
Obanai swore, forced into a defensive stance as demons crowded him, trying to break through to you.
And all you could do was watch—heart in your throat, breath trapped in pain—because even if you transformed, even if you fought, Sanemi and Obanai might see.
You knew you couldn't lie your way out of it.
Sanemi barely registered the rain anymore—only the rhythm of Akaza’s fists, the explosive shockwaves with every blocked blow. His lungs burned, muscles screaming, but he refused to step back.
“You’re strong!” Akaza laughed, pivoting into a spinning roundhouse kick meant to shatter bone. Sanemi ducked, countered, sliced—yet every slash that should’ve cut deep only grazed air.
Sanemi felt it before he saw it.
A demon lunged at his blind spot, forcing him to parry. Another grabbed at his haori. A third clamped onto his arm, slowing him down just enough.
Sanemi’s eyes widened as he fought off the demons, but him being distracted gave Akaza the upper hand as he reappeared directly in front of him, heel raised, stance coiled. That kick wasn’t meant to send him flying… no.. it was meant to pierce straight through him.
“SANEMI MOVE!” Obanai roared, slicing through three demons at once, but even he knew they wouldn’t make it in time.
For one horrifying heartbeat, Sanemi saw his own death.
And then your scream tore through the forest.
You shouldn’t have been able to—not with a shattered ankle, not with broken bones, not with half your blood soaking the mud, but adrenaline roared through you, drowning out everything else.
You limped and stumbled, but you sprinted faster than either Hashira could process.
And just as Akaza’s kick came down, you threw yourself in front of Sanemi.
His foot punched straight through your chest—bursting out your back with sickening force.
Your breath left you in a strangled gasp, blood splattering across Sanemi’s uniform, warm and horrifying.
For a moment, the world stopped.
Sanemi’s pupils blew wide—shock, disbelief, then something far darker.
Obanai froze mid-swing, jaw slack beneath his bandages. Even the demons faltered, sensing something shift.
You trembled on impact, eyes wide, blood bubbling at your lips as Akaza slowly withdrew his foot, letting you collapse into the mud.
You hit the ground on your side, vision blurring, rain mixing with the crimson pooling beneath you.
Sanemi’s voice finally tore free—raw, broken, feral.
“_________! NO, NO, NO… HEY—HEY—LOOK AT ME—!”
He dropped to his knees beside you, hands shaking as he gathered you into his arms, ignoring the blood pouring onto him. His breath hitched violently—panic clawing up his throat.
Obanai turned sharply toward Akaza, horror morphing into lethal rage.
Akaza simply watched with an unreadable expression, almost… disappointed.
“I wasn’t aiming for you.” His voice was calm, almost curious. “Why would you throw yourself away like that?”
Your vision hazed, but you somehow found Sanemi’s face and managed the faintest, pained smile.
Because of course it was him.
Akaza tilted his head, intrigued.
Your fingers barely twitched as your shaking hand latched weakly around his ankle.
Sanemi froze behind you, chest heaving, eyes blown wide as his hands hovered helplessly. Terrified to touch you. Terrified to lose you.
Akaza didn’t kick you off. He didn’t even tense.
He smiled in a mocking and indulgent way.
“Oh?” he hummed, amused. “Still trying? Admirable… but useless.”
Your blood dripped onto his foot, rainwater turning it into pale pink streams. You felt your vision dimming as the edges were beginning to go black and your heartbeat slowing.
And you finally realized you couldn’t afford to hide anymore.
Not from Sanemi. Not from yourself. Not from what you were.
Your fingers tightened and your breathing steadied. And with your last ounce of strength, you let the demon inside you surface.
Your pupils thinned into sharp red slits.
Akaza’s amused expression vanished as your nails lengthened into shimmering obsidian points and you plunged them into his ankle.
A low snarl ripped from your throat as your Blood Demon Art activated on instinct, violently reversing.
His Upper Rank blood rushed into you, scorching through your veins like molten fire. Your body convulsed as the power hit, spine arching, teeth gritted, heartbeat syncing with his for a split second—
Your body was flung like a ragdoll straight into Sanemi. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, but the impact sent both of you crashing into a tree trunk, splintering the bark.
Sanemi groaned as he hit the ground, but his only focus was you. He was already pushing up, already reaching..
Except you were no longer broken.
You rose before he could touch you—slowly, steadily—standing between him and Akaza.
Rainwater slid down your now noticeably demon form, dripping off hair that had shifted from its normal color to a deep, bleeding crimson. Your skin glowed faintly beneath the stormlight—vein-like, thorny red markings crawling up your arms, across your throat, curling beneath your eye like blooming wisteria.
Your pupils glowed in a feral and deadly way, and when you inhaled, steam drifted from your lips.
The hole in your chest sealed shut in seconds, regenerating faster than Akaza has ever seen.
Sanemi stared—speechless—eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, soaked in rain and disbelief.
Obanai stood several feet away, frozen mid-stance, sword lowered, breath caught in his throat.
Not even when you slowly turned your head, locking eyes with Akaza.
He exhaled—equal parts impressed and thrilled.
“Now that,” he murmured, voice low, eager, “is interesting.”
Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating all three of you.
One heartbeat you stood beside Sanemi.. the next you vanished in a red blur.
The air rippled—trees bending from the force—and suddenly your claws were slashing toward Akaza’s throat.
He blocked it just in time, yet your strike still split the skin, blood spraying. Akaza’s grin stretched wide—starved, ecstatic.
“Yes, GOOD! Show me more!”
You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.
You were already behind him, heel colliding with his spine, sending him crashing through a boulder. Stone exploded, debris raining like shattered teeth.
Before he hit the ground, you were there—fist buried into his ribs, claws raking deeper, trying to reach bone. Akaza coughed blood but let out a feral and delighted laugh.
“Magnificent, your instincts are flawless—”
Your nails hooked into his shoulder and ripped, the limb tearing free in a wet snap. Blood spilled and you didn’t waste it.
You shoved your hand into the open wound.
His blood surged into you—hot, wild, scorching your veins like wildfire. Your vision sharpened, colors deepening, muscles thrumming with terrifying strength.
Akaza’s smile finally faltered.
He jumped back super far, landing atop a broken pillar, eyes narrowing.
Sanemi and Obanai felt the shift instantly.
The air was heavier. The pressure was suffocating. Your presence was overwhelming as you grew stronger.
Sanemi couldn’t tear his eyes away as his heart pounded violently against his ribs.
The remaining demons lunged toward him and Obanai. Sanemi snapped back to reality, unleashing his Wind Breathing techniques, slicing through bodies like paper. Obanai followed behind him with clean, precise executions.
But even as they fought, neither could stop watching you.
Akaza regenerated his arm, rolling his shoulders as a grin twitched back into place, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time.
“That technique… no wonder Lord Muzan wants you.”
Your lip curled, voice dripping venom.
“Muzan can choke on glass.”
Akaza’s expression darkened, excitement replaced by something razor-sharp.
He moved in a blur as he closed in, his fist aimed straight for your skull.
Your feet cratered into the earth from the force, dirt blasting outward in a shockwave, but you held him there, claws digging into his knuckles, steam rising from the friction of two monstrous strengths colliding.
“You’re growing stronger by the second. If I let you keep absorbing—”
You didn’t wait for him to finish.
Your other hand speared into his abdomen—up to the wrist—nails sinking into muscle and blood vessels.
Akaza choked, rage finally flashing through his eyes as you drank.
Your tattoos flared—glowing brighter, crawling across your ribs, down your spine. Your irises darkened to a deep, predatory crimson.
Truly threatened now, Akaza let out a snarl before slamming his forehead into yours, breaking your nose. Pain burst white-hot, but it healed before the blood even hit the ground.
He yanked himself away and landed several meters back, breathing harder, posture dropping into an actual fighting stance.
“You’re becoming dangerous,” he muttered, tone low, deadly.
You wiped blood from your mouth and shot him a smile.
Mud splashed beneath both your feet as you clashed again—fangs, fists, claws, blood, wind pressure cracking the trees around. You tore into Akaza’s shoulder; he shattered your ribcage. You regenerated. He healed. Neither backing down. Neither gaining ground.
He grinned, wild and thrilled.
You didn’t answer him, only lunged with burning eyes.
Thunder rumbled overhead, but the downpour had stopped. And the silence that followed after was too sudden.
Akaza froze and so did you as a faint warmth kissed the back of your neck.
The rain had ended, and slowly, the clouds began to thin.
“No,” he breathed. “Not now.”
He turned sharply, body already angling toward the shadows of the treeline.
You reacted instantly—launching forward and catching his wrist, claws sinking into muscle and bone. Blood sprayed, but you held on.
“You’re not going anywhere,” you hissed, voice shaking with adrenaline. “You die here.”
Akaza snarled, eyes blazing with real fury now.
The first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, striking the ground inches from his feet. Steam rose from his skin.
Panic flickered through his expression—brief, but unmistakable.
Akaza roared—feral, explosive—and with a violent twist, he ripped himself free, tearing his own flesh to escape your hold. Your claws scraped off half his forearm, but he didn’t stop—he sprinted toward the shadows as the sunlight expanded.
“Next time,” he shouted over his shoulder, voice echoing, “I’ll take you properly!”
You stood there—chest heaving, hands trembling, blood pattering into the dirt—as you watched him vanish. You took slow, deep breaths, fighting not to lose control the way you had in the Entertainment District.
The world finally went quiet.
Sanemi and Obanai stood a few paces away, demon corpses dissolving behind them.
There you stood with blood steaming off your skin, your eyes were glowing crimson, veins rippling beneath inky tattoos, fangs bared… you weren’t human.
Obanai’s breath hitched, blade lowering a fraction as if his body forgot how to function.
He whispered, voice thin. “She’s a demon.”
His ears rang too loudly.
He wanted to deny it—swear the mud, the blood, the lighting was tricking him, but then your fangs came into view.
Every memory of you—your laugh, your tears, the way you clung to him, the way he kissed you, collapsed beneath a single, brutal truth.
Obanai took a step back, hands trembling despite his grip on his sword.
“The Master… he knew,” he muttered, betrayal sinking in. “He sent you to protect a demon.”
Sanemi’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
His knuckles went white around his sword hilt.
He wanted to cut you down because that’s what he does. That’s what he was made for.
Especially demons pretending to be human.
Obanai continued, quieter this time, shaken.
“She fooled you. She fooled all of us.”
Sanemi’s chest twisted painfully, breath unsteady.
No. She wouldn’t— she couldn’t—
But then you turned to face them, and you looked like every demon he’d ever slaughtered.
Every emotion crashed at once—rage, betrayal, disbelief, grief.
And you? You can only stand there, feeling horrified of their reactions.
Obanai’s stare was unreadable—wide, calculating, breathing uneven. His knuckles were white around his sword, though he made no move to raise it.
Sanemi’s expression, however…
He looked like someone had ripped something out of him—something he didn’t know how to name. Jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, eyes burning—not with hatred, but something far worse.
Hurt. Betrayal. Confusion.
Your mouth opened yet nothing came out.
Sanemi couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. Rainwater—or maybe sweat—ran down his temple, but he didn’t move to wipe it. His voice, when it finally escaped, was hoarse.
Obanai slowly exhaled beside him, gaze flicking between you two.
He didn’t step forward. Didn’t speak. He just waited.
Sanemi’s fingers twitched at his side as they itched, unsure if to reach for his sword… or for you.
He swallowed hard, eyes still locked on yours—broken, furious, terrified.
And it hurt worse than any wound Akaza left on you.
You swallowed, throat tight, and forced one trembling step forward.
His reaction was instant—violent.
“Stay the fuck away from me.”
His hand flew to his hilt, blade half-drawn, body coiled like he was facing a monster… not you. The venom in his voice sliced deeper than any wound Akaza left behind.
You froze mid-step—eyes stinging.
Your body reacted before your mind did—fangs disappearing, claws retracting, hair fading back to its normal color. Your breathing faltered as your demon features dissolved, revealing just… you.
“Please just—just let me expl—”
“Explain?” His laugh was hollow, furious, shaking. “What the fuck is there to explain?!”
Obanai didn’t move, but his gaze sharpened.
“I asked you,” Sanemi growled, voice cracking, “I asked you.. and you looked me in the goddamn face and lied.”
Your lip trembled. “I—I didn’t know how—”
“Oh, don’t fucking start.” His eyes were wildfire, storming, betrayed. “You had every chance to tell me. Every. Fucking. One. Instead, you let me fall—”
He cut himself off, jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped.
He continued, louder and angrier, because anger was safer than hurt.
“Were you laughing at me this whole time? Watchin' me play bodyguard like some dumbass while you hid what you were?”
“No!” Your voice broke. “Sanemi, I—I was scared—”
“Yeah?” His voice lowered into something lethal. “Good. You should be.”
Something inside you twisted.
Obanai finally stepped forward a half-step, cautious.
“Don’t fucking defend her!” he snapped, eyes never leaving yours.
You felt yourself shrink.
“I trusted you,” he spit. “I fought for you. I—” He stopped again, breathing unsteady. “And you were a demon this whole time?”
You shook your head desperately. “Not—not fully—”
“Oh, that makes it better,” he snarled. “Half a monster instead of a whole one.”
“Sanemi…” your voice cracked, breaking. “I never wanted to hurt you—”
He took another step back—recoiling, like your words were poison.
Something inside you splintered so loudly you swear he heard it.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he continued, voice raw. “I don’t want your voice. I don’t want your lies.”
You felt your knees weaken.
He raised his blade towards you—not to strike, but as a barrier.
“You’re not touching me. You’re not coming near me. Ever. Make a move, and I swear I'll cut you down.”
Obanai’s eyes widened, not expecting that level of cruelty.
Tears fell before you realized they escaped.
Sanemi watched them—not softened, not moved—just hurt.
“This whole fucking time…” he whispered, almost to himself. “I thought—”
He shut his eyes, inhaled sharply, and looked away. Like looking at you physically pained him.
“Sanemi, please,” you begged, your voice barely audible, trembling. “I’m still me.”
“That’s the fucking problem.”
Your knees finally gave out.
You hit the muddy ground hard, shoulders shaking, breath falling apart in uneven gasps. Tears blurred everything—Sanemi, Obanai, the broken trees around you—all of it washed into a shapeless mess.
“I never meant to lie,” you choked out, voice breaking. “I was going to tell you.. I just—”
“Why didn’t you?” Obanai stepped forward, voice eerily calm but tight with restrained anger. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why keep something like this hidden when lives are on the line?”
You looked up at him with red, trembling eyes.
He wasn’t yelling. Somehow, that made it worse.
“How could I?” you shot back, voice raw. “The Corps hates demons. Most Hashira kill them without thinking. Would you have listened? Would any of you have believed me? Or cared?”
Your voice cracked again.
“I didn’t want to die for something I never asked to be.”
Obanai’s expression shifted—still stern, but no longer sharp. He opened his mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to calm you—you’d never know.
Because Sanemi cut him off.
His tone was dangerously low and controlled.
Sanemi slowly turned back toward you, jaw clenched, eyes burning—not with rage alone anymore, but calculation. Fear.
“You said you can’t heal yourself,” he muttered, stepping closer. “So how—”
His eyes widened slightly.
Silence slammed into the mountain.
Your lip trembled. Your throat closed. Your stomach dropped. You didn’t answer… you couldn’t.
Sanemi’s nostrils flared, fury rising like a second heartbeat.
“So you do,” he hissed. “You fucking drink blood.”
You shook your head desperately. “Sanemi, listen—”
His voice rose—shattering.
“Did you kill those men in the dungeon and drink their blood?”
Obanai stiffened beside him, eyes narrowing as he also waited for your response.
The memory flashed behind your eyes—blood dripping down your chin, ribs healing, power flooding your veins.
Again, your silence was a confession.
Sanemi’s face twisted—betrayal, revulsion, heartbreak all colliding.
“Answer me,” he demanded, voice shaking with fury. “Did you drink their blood?”
Your breath stuttered. “They—they weren’t good people.. they tortured us. They would’ve killed you… I didn’t have a choice—”
He let out a harsh, disgusted laugh.
“Spare me the fucking excuses.”
The words hit harder than Akaza’s kick.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, collapsing inward. “I’m sorry… I never wanted to hurt anyone. I was scared—”
He didn’t even look at you anymore.
“You should’ve stayed in that cage.”
You blinked, like your brain needed time to process the cruelty.
Sanemi turned his back—shoulders rigid, fists clenched so hard they trembled.
“I’m done,” he muttered, voice flat, dead. “I don’t care what happens to you.”
Leaving you on your knees—broken, bleeding, alone.
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