JeyJey

By the time you get home, he can’t hold it back. He’s quick to catch you, strong arms dragging your tiny body close, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. You blink up at him, surprised at first, then melt against him like you were always meant to.

“What’s got you worked up, baby?” you breathe into the crook of his neck, surprised at how desperate he feels against you.

“Saw you today,” he mutters, already pawing at you, hands restless on your waist, your thighs, anywhere he can touch. “Looked so pretty… takin’ care of that little girl.”

You let out a tiny laugh, “was just braiding her hair, she said it was bothersome when it gets in her face.” You smile faintly, remembering the freckles on the girl’s nose. “So I took care of it.”

Akaza groans low, almost frustrated with how easy you make it sound, how natural it looks on you. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” he mutters, dragging his lips along your jaw.

Your tilt of confusion only makes him worse. He presses his palm firmer against your soft tummy, like he’s testing the thought with his hand alone, voice dropping into something husky and near-desperate.

“Makes me wanna put my kids in you, baby…” he whispers, cock straining against his pants, the idea alone making him twitch. You shiver, knees knocking as his breath licks over your ear, desperation dripping from every word. Your moan is soft, shaky, but it only winds him tighter. His hips rut against you through the fabric, cock hard and needy, grinding into your clothed pussy like he’ll lose his mind if you say no.

“Wanna fill you up,” he murmurs, voice breaking into a plea. “Can I, angel… please?” He sounds so ruined. This big, terrifying man reduced to begging in your ear, pressing every inch of his want against your body like he’s already halfway inside.“You’d be such a good mother,” he rasps, “so sweet, so caring, so perfect.”

And you don’t even answer—don’t have to. The way your hips grind back into his rutting, the way your body yields and shivers under him, it’s all the confirmation he needs. His mouth twists into the faintest smile, almost smug, like he’s already claimed you in the way that matters most.

His grip tightens, needy, desperate, ready to make good on every filthy promise he’s ever whispered against your skin.

✭

✭

✭

A rare night, but a silent night.

Save for the distant croaks of frogs echoing through the mansion’s central oasis. There on the engawa, the woman sat alone, yellow eyes gazing at the gentle trickling of the pond nestled among its stones and lush greenery. The crisp scent of the damp earth and faint traces of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of late March.

Winter had loosened its grip, yet a lingering chill remained, carried by the occasional breeze that wove through the garden, barely disturbing the strands of [Name]’s hair.

She exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. Yes, nights like these were rare; quiet, undemanding, untouched by duty or the weight of expectation. For a Hashira, moments of respite were fleeting. Yet here, in this stillness, she allowed herself to exist without obligation.

[Name] tilted her head back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the night sky. The moon hung low, casting its pale glow across the garden, its light flickering against the rippling water. Somewhere beyond the walls, the world continued — demons lurked, battles waged, and the cycle of blood and survival turned endlessly. But for now, in this moment, she was simply here.

And she couldn’t ask for anything more.

As her gaze fixed on the glimmering stars, a sudden creak of the floorboard broke the serene peace, cutting through the gentle hum of the night. Instinctively, [Name]’s senses sharpened, an abrupt darkness overwhelming the calm she had settled into. Her muscles tensed, though only for a fleeting second.

Of course, she already knew who it was.

Akaza.

She didn’t need to turn around to confirm it. His presence was distinct, impossible to mistake, unlike other demons she’d come to encounter. It was a quiet force, looming yet unthreatening in the way only he could manage when he was around her. The air around him carried the faintest weight of something unspoken and something unreadable.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the moonlit pond before her. There was a pause. Then, the sound of steps; soft and steady, until he came to stand just behind her.

“You’re slipping,” Akaza replied, his voice low, tinged with something akin to amusement. “You noticed me late.”

[Name] scoffed, finally glancing over her shoulder. “Or maybe I just didn’t care to react.”

Their gazes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. A pale glow came to rest over his features from the moonlight — bringing forth the stark contrast of the deep navy markings staining his skin, and the unwavering intensity in his golden eyes. His presence was as familiar as it was conflicting. He was a demon, an enemy, yet he was one who had crossed her path far too many times without bloodshed.

Akaza shifted slightly, lowering himself onto the engawa beside her with an ease that felt almost practiced.

“You look tired.”

She huffed. “And you’re as blunt as ever.”

He said nothing to that, only tilting his head slightly as if he was studying her. “Rest doesn’t suit you.”

“Is that so?” [Name] leaned back, resting her palms against the wooden boards. “And what, lurking in the shadows suits you?”

A smirk ghosted over his lips. “It does, actually.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away.

And for a while, neither of them spoke as the night stretched around them. It was quiet, aside for the distant chirr of crickets and the occasional rustling of wind through the trees. The pond before them shimmered beneath the moon’s light, its surface undisturbed.

[Name] exhaled, her fingers curling slightly against the wood beneath her. “You’re not supposed to be here.

Akaza let out a low chuckle. “And yet, here I am.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “You’re awfully comfortable for someone who should be my enemy.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Would it make you feel better if I stood instead?”

“It would make me feel better if you weren’t here at all.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. “Liar.”

[Name] scowled, turning her attention back to the pond. “You really like that word, don’t you?”

“Only when it fits.”

She huffed but didn’t argue. She couldn’t argue. No, not with him.

Then, another long silence fell between them, and in a quieter voice, Akaza spoke again. “You’ve been busy.”

[Name] arched a brow at him. “Been keeping tabs on me?”

“No.” He shrugged. “I can just tell.”

She hesitated before responding. “Hunting demons is an exhausting job, you know.”

“And still, here you are.” He nodded toward the pond. “Taking in the scenery instead of sleeping like a human should.”

The woman frowned but didn’t deny it. Sleep had eluded her more often than not these days, though she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

“And what about you?” she asked instead, eyes narrowing slightly. “What have you been doing aside from… well, this?” She gestured vaguely between them. “Still slaughtering your way through the nights?”

Akaza didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to the water, as if he were in thought of what to say. “Some nights are quieter than others.”

“What, you take breaks from murder now?” [Name] scoffed.

He didn’t laugh. “Would it matter if I did?”

That caught her off guard. She stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But his face, his gestures, his expressions — they were always so difficult to read — as if his golden eyes held something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Why are you really here, Akaza?” she asked finally.

He didn’t answer right away, letting the question linger for a moment before he admitted softly. ”I don’t know.”

[Name] clenched her jaw. That was the worst answer he could have given. Because if he had a reason — if he had said it was just to taunt her, or to fight, or something else she could categorize neatly as enemy behavior — it would have been easier.

But I don’t know was dangerous, because she didn’t know, either.

And that made all the difference.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “You’re impossible.”

Akaza’s lips twitched in something resembling a smirk. “Yet, you’re still here.”

Man, did she really wanted to throw him off the engawa right then and there. Instead, [Name] simply clicked her tongue, still she didn’t retort. But as the night wore on, they sat in a continued silence, the sounds of the garden filling the gaps between them. The quiet felt different now.

No longer did it feel entirely peaceful, though it was not stricken with burden.

For now, neither of them acknowledged the unspoken truth that lingered between them. The lines that divided them. The inevitable reality that, one day, they would have to meet again — not like this, but as adversaries.

But not tonight. Tonight, they simply existed, basking in the other’s presence.

“How long has it been?” she asked finally, keeping her voice light as if the answer didn’t matter.

Again, the demon didn’t respond right away. He inhaled slightly, as if testing the weight of her words before exhaling. Then, “Three months,” he said at last.

[Name] swallowed. She hadn’t expected an exact answer, but hearing it aloud settled in her chest like a stone. Three months. That long since their last encounter, since she had last heard his voice or felt the unsettling comfort of his presence.

Still, she kept her gaze trained on the water, but she could feel Akaza’s presence beside her — unwavering, almost solid in a way that unsettled her more than she would ever admit.

She hated this. She hated how easily he existed in her space, how natural it felt to have him there, sitting on the engawa like they were simply two souls enjoying the night. She hated how she didn’t tense in his presence, how she never truly feared him the way she should.

The way she knew she should.

He was a demon, for God’s sake — an upper moon, no less. A sworn enemy of the Demon Slayer Corps, a monster who had taken countless lives, who thrived on bloodshed. And there was no justification, no reason in the world that should make his presence beside her acceptable. Yet even still, here they sat.

And this wasn’t the first time.

It had started as a game of chance, of circumstance. Encounters in battlefields that never quite turned into fights. Moments stolen in the dead of night that were brief and lingering, their conversations just as much a clash as the blades and fists they should have been exchanging.

It was a dangerous thing. A forbidden thing.

But she didn’t move.

“You seem… troubled.” His voice was even, indecipherable as always — but there was something that lingered beneath it. Something almost careful.

[Name] simply shook her head. “Not everything is that deep, you know.”

Akaza hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “You’re thinking too much.”

She turned to him then, her brows knit slightly. “And since when do you care what I think about?”

He met her gaze evenly, his golden eyes calm yet piercing. “Since you started looking at me like you don’t know whether to draw your sword or let me stay.”

Her breath caught almost instantly in her throat — albeit, just slightly. But just enough for her to feel the heat of anger, embarrassment, and frustration coil deep in her gut.

Because he wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.

[Name] tore her gaze away, exhaling sharply. “You’re delusional.”

Akaza cocked his head, studying her with that infuriating patience he always seemed to have around her. It made her want to snap, to force him into a fight just so she could drown out the thoughts swirling in her head.

Thoughts she shouldn’t be having. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.

She was a Hashira and he, a demon.

There was no place in the world where this — whatever this was — could exist. But despite knowing that, despite the weight of her duty pressing against her, she couldn’t make herself tell him to leave.

She couldn’t… she couldn’t bring herself to sever whatever fragile thread kept bringing them back to this same space.

Akaza leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting up to the sky. “You know,” he murmured, “if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”

[Name]’s jaw tightened. “Don’t test me.”

He chuckled, the sound low, almost amused. “I’m just saying.”

“You always just say things,” she muttered bitterly, gripping the fabric of her uniform tighter around her arms. “That’s the problem.”

And it was a problem. Because every time they crossed paths, and every time their conversations stretched longer than they should, she felt herself slipping. Not in loyalty, not in duty — never that. But in something else.

Something she refused to name. Because to name it would be to acknowledge it. And to acknowledge it would be to admit something far worse than treason.

“You should go,” she said abruptly, forcing steel into her voice, ignoring the way her hands clenched just a little too tight in her lap.

Akaza glanced at her, his face undefinable for a long moment. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. "Very well. As you wish," he said lightly, turning his back to her. "Maybe next time, you'll figure out what you really want to say to me."

[Name]’s brows knit, feeling a chill creep up her spine from his words. “There won’t be a next time.”

He smirked. “If you say so.”

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone, vanishing into the night with nothing but the lingering weight of his presence left behind. The woman exhaled, pressing a hand to her temple as if that would rid her of the whirlwind of thoughts he always seemed to leave in his wake.

Damn him. Damn herself.

And damn whatever this thing between them was — this fragile, unspoken thing neither of them had the strength to say.

✭

✭

✭

The weeks bled into months, and the months edged toward almost a year.

[Name] never saw him again.

At first, she told herself this was a good thing. It was what she had wanted, what she had demanded. No more shadows at the edge of her senses, no more stolen conversations beneath the veil of night, where the lines between enemy and something else blurred too easily.

She should have been at peace. Should’ve.

But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it became. It shouldn’t have bothered her so much, she would tell herself. Yet the feeling settled in her chest like a dull, aching weight that refused to fade. She convinced herself it was residual tension, a habit of being on guard. Nothing more.

But habits didn’t have her staring into the night, listening for a voice that never came. Habits didn’t make her catch glimpses of movement in the corners of her vision, only to turn and find nothing there.

It was infuriating, how he lingered even in absence. And she hated that she noticed, and she absolutely hated that she missed it.

So she threw herself into her duties, training rookies, taking missions, and fighting demons. Anything to keep her mind from straying. If she was exhausted, she wouldn’t think of him. If she pushed herself hard enough, she could go whole days without wondering — without remembering how he looked in the glow of the moon’s light, how his golden eyes looked at her.

She hated that look. She had wanted to hate that look. But something about it stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts like a quiet hunger. And no matter how many demons she cut down, no matter how many miles she traveled, that feeling never left.

Like a splinter buried too deep beneath the skin.

The nights were the worst. The emptiness drew out, vast and unforgiving. Worst of all, she was always alone with her thoughts, with the weight in her chest, with the knowledge that she had pushed him away, and that he had listened.

Her fingers twitched sometimes — grasping at empty air, as if expecting to brush against something that was never there. As if expecting to find him.

It was stupid.

Now, [Name] was not naïve. She knew what people would say if anyone discovered even an inkling of this thing plaguing her. To sympathize with a demon is to betray your own kind., to betray the Corps. That was the unshakable truth she had been raised on, the belief ingrained in her from the moment she picked up a sword. There were no gray areas. No room for doubt.

Demons were monsters. Killers.

They were meant to be slaughtered without hesitation, without question. She had spent years building herself into the kind of warrior who did not flinch at their deaths.

And yet — and fucking yet.

She could not erase the quiet way he had looked at her that night. As if searching for something in her, something neither of them could name in that moment. She couldn’t forget the way his voice had sounded — so still, so unshaken — as he spoke words that had burrowed deep beneath her skin.

“Maybe next time, you’ll figure out what you really want to say to me.”

What had he meant by that? Why had he looked at her like that? And why of all things was it still haunting her?

[Name] exhaled sharply, adjusting the grip on her sword.

The morning was still young, the air even crisp as she moved through the training grounds, overseeing the younger Slayers as they practiced their footwork. She kept her tone firm, her instructions precise. She did not allow herself to falter, did not allow herself to show any trace of the unease that had been gnawing at her for months.

There was no room for weakness. No room for whatever this was.

But even as she corrected a student’s stance, even as she parried blows from a younger recruit, she could feel it — the weight of something unfinished. Of something left unresolved. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew this was not over. Not even as another mission came not long after, one she was assigned to alongside the very man that reigned of flamboyance. The man known as the self-proclaimed “God of Festivals,” Tengen Uzui.

And the journey was a long one, taking them into the mountains where reports of demon activity had increased. The sun hung low in the sky as they traveled, the scent of damp earth thick in the air.

[Name] kept her gaze forward, her posture rigid, and her mind focused. Or at least, she tried to keep it that way. But Tengen was perceptive. More than most gave him credit for. He noticed the moment she grew quieter than usual, the way her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, the way she seemed a little too lost in thought.

“You’ve been awfully gloomy lately,” he said suddenly, his voice light but edged with curiosity. “It’s not like you.”

[Name] barely glanced at him. “I’m fine.”

Tengen raised a brow. “That’s not an answer.”

She sighed, adjusting the strap of her sword on her hip. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “So you’re just sulking for no reason, then?”

Her eye twitched. “I am not sulking.”

Tengen hummed as if unconvinced, keeping pace beside her with infuriating ease. “You’ve been acting strange for awhile now. More tense. More mopey. Not as flashy as usual.”

[Name] merely rolled her eyes. “Not everything has to be flashy, Uzui.”

“Says you. But I digress.” His expression shifted slightly, the teasing still there, but now laced with something quieter. “Whatever’s on your mind, it’s eating you alive.”

“I told you. It’s nothing.” She affirmed irritably.

“[Name].”

His voice was softer now, lacking the usual bravado. He rarely spoke like this — so genuine and direct. It caught her off guard for a short moment, and she didn’t like that it did.

She forced a breath through her nose. “I don’t have the energy for this conversation.”

Tengen studied her for a very long moment. But then, to her surprise, he let it go. “Fine,” he said easily. “But don’t expect me to stop noticing.”

She exhaled, relieved that he didn’t press further. Because if he had, she wasn’t sure what she would have said.

Or worse… what she might have admitted.

✭

✭

✭

And again, another restless night where the Hashira lay awake in her quarters, her eyes focused on the wooden ceiling above. The faint flicker of a lantern cast shifting shadows across the entirety of the room, its dim glow barely enough to chase away the dark.

She should have been exhausted.

The days that passed had been relentless; missions that left her body aching, training sessions that tested the limits of her endurance, meetings that dragged into late hours. Yet, despite the weight of fatigue pressing against her limbs, sleep remained elusive.

Because the moment she closed her eyes, she could feel it.

The absence.

The silence.

The lack of his presence.

[Name] exhaled slowly, turning onto her side, her fingers twitching as if grasping for something that wasn’t there.

This was ridiculous.

She had no reason — no right — to feel this way.

Akaza was a demon. A murderer. An enemy to everything she stood for.

So then why did she miss him?

The thought alone made her sick. She clenched her fists, jaw tightening as she forced herself to banish the thought before it could take root.

Because she did not miss him.

And because she did not care.

She was simply… left unsettled by the unfinished resolution. This was simply just… unease. The discomfort of an unresolved encounter, of unfinished words were left lingering in the air.

That was all.

Nothing more.

But even in the deepest pit of her stomach did something whisper to her — a harsh, merciless truth that she refused to acknowledge even once.

Liar.

And then it happened again. Another grim night had come, one indistinguishable from all the others. One that was cold and empty, a stretch of time when the world seemed poised and on the edge of something that couldn’t be seen.

The Hashira moved through the dense mountain forest, her zori silent against the damp earth, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.

Another call for duty that found [Name] on patrol, her gaze sweeping over the mountain that she claimed as her territory. The air was crisp here, as it had always been — thick with the scent of pine as she moved silently through the dense forest. The only sound was the rustling of nocturnal creatures, their calls breaking through the stillness. It should have been a routine patrol.

And yet, something had changed. A subtle ripple within the air. The unmistakable sensation of being watched.

She felt it before she saw him — just a flicker at the edge of her vision. A presence that slipped through the night like a whisper against her senses. Still, she did not turn. She did not move. But her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“You’ve been looking for me.”

The voice was smooth and deep. It did not falter in the slightest, even as he stood before her again.

And damn him — damn him — the sound of it sent a painful, gut-wrenching twist through her chest. [Name] exhaled slowly, stablizing herself before she finally turned.

And there he was. The same as he had always looked all those times. Untouched by time.

The same golden eyes, the same expression she couldn’t read. The same quiet grace that had always set her on edge. But there was something in the way he watched her now… something that was different.

“I haven’t,” she said, her voice monotonous, not even daring to show a flick of emotion in her features. Not even as she met his eyes.

A pause.

“Liar.”

And there was that word again. One singular word that cut deeper than it should have. Still, her expression did not move, nothing but the small twitch of her fingers against the hilt of her sword.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You should have stayed gone,” she retorted, her voice softer this time.

“Would that have made it easier?”

She hated that she hesitated. That, for a brief moment, she considered what he was asking.

A silence fell over them, one that stretched for God knows how long. [Name] could only hear the world around them; the rustling leaves, the distant howl of wind cutting through the trees, the faint hum of crickets hidden in the underbrush.

But none of it mattered. None of it existed. Not while he was here. Not with that damned gaze locked onto her.

Not when she could feel the weight of something unsaid pressing against her chest, like a hand tightening around her throat.

He hadn’t moved, nor had he raised a single muscle. He hadn’t done anything but watch her.

And that infuriated her more than anything. Because it wasn’t just the weight of his presence that unsettled her. No, it was the fact that he knew. He knew she had thought about him, he knew she had searched for something that wasn’t there, he knew she had wanted him gone, and yet, she hated him for staying away.

Again, her fingers twitched in ache to draw her blade.

Would that have made it easier?

His question still hung in the air, suffocating in its simplicity. Would it have? Would it have been easier if he had never returned? If she had never seen him again? If she had been given enough time to erase whatever this thing was, growing inside her?

[Name]’s breath came in short, uneven gasps.

No. No, it wouldn’t have.

Because he had already carved himself into her mind, a wound so deep that it refused to heal, because she had already failed. And now, he was standing here — so close, yet impossibly distant — she hated him for it.

But more than anything, she resented herself for it. For the way her fury twisted inside her like a living thing, clawing at her ribs, and demanding release. So she did the only thing she could, she let it consume her.

With a snarl, she unsheathed her sword and lunged, rage surging through every fiber of her being. The night air split apart with the sharp whisper of steel, her blade cutting through the empty space where he had stood just a heartbeat ago.

But he was fast. Too fast.

[Name] barely saw him move, yet he was already gone, already out of reach. His body shifted effortlessly, the space between them closing and expanding in an instant, his movements smooth and unhurried.

Her next strike came harder and faster in downward arc meant to cleave. But again, nothing. Nothing but her own frustration and her own emotions dulling the edge of her skill.

He sidestepped, his arms still loose at his sides, watching her intently every time.

He wasn’t even fighting back. Instead, he waited, letting herself burn out with each stride, with each thrust, with each swing.

“Stop being a coward and fight me!!” she spat, twisting into another strike.

This time, he blocked, barely lifting his arm as her blade crashed against his forearm. It was a spark of impact. Yet there was no wound, not even a flinch. Just him — standing there, looking at her with something she couldn’t bear to see.

She tore her sword back and swung again, and again, and again. Each time, he dodged, deflected, refused to retaliate. And with every evasion, the fire inside her blazed hotter.

“Stop running!!” she roared, her sword a blur as she slashed, slicing through the air mere inches from his face.

But he didn’t falter.

That was what finally shattered her. [Name] stumbled back, chest heaving, sword trembling in her grip. Her pulse roared in her ears, a wild, frantic thing that refused to settle.

And he just stood there, nothing more of calm and at ease, like she was the only one going crazy. Like she was the only one bleeding from this.

The realization struck like a dagger to the gut. That this wasn’t a fight. This was a spectacle, and she was the fool, swinging her sword for an audience of one.

Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the hilt until pain flared up her arm.

Say something, she wanted to scream. Give me a reason to end this. Give me a reason to cut you down. Give me a reason to stop—

“Why…” she whispered, her lips trembling slightly. “Why won’t you fight me?”

The words came out hoarse in half a demand, half a plea. And she hated it. She hated that she needed an answer from him.

Akaza tilted his head, his face stoic. And then, finally, he spoke. “Because I know this isn’t what you really want.”

His words were quiet, yet undoubtedly certain.

And gods above, she wanted to rip them from the air before they could take root inside her. Because he was right and she hated him for knowing it. She hated everything about him.

[Name] exhaled shakily, her grip loosening just enough for her sword to lower — just an inch, but just enough to surrender without saying the words. Her shoulders trembled, whether from exhaustion or something far worse, she didn’t know. But she didn’t want to say it.

The night air pressed against her sweat-dampened skin. Every breath scorched her lungs. She had poured everything into those attacks — her fury, her grief, every shattered piece of herself.

But even then, he remained untouched.

He had let her rage, he had her strike, and he had let her unravel right in front of him. And now, as she stood there, stripped bare by her own anger, she realized… she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know who she was supposed to be in the wake of this.

So she did the only thing left.

She turned away and refused to look at him. She refused to let him see whatever remained of her as silence fell over them again, much thicker than before, and heavy with everything that was left unsaid.

“Next time,” Akaza murmured, his eyes searing into the back of her skull, “figure out what it is you really want to say to me.”

She tensed, nails biting into her palms. She didn’t answer him, she didn’t move. She couldn’t for the life of her. Not even close.

And when she finally dared to look back…

he was gone.

✭

✭

✭

The morning after, [Name] awoke feeling heavier than she ever had before. Her body ached from exertion, her limbs sluggish as she pushed herself upright, but it wasn’t just the exhaustion of battle weighing her down.

It was something deeper within. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge, that she didn’t even want to label.

She had lost.

Not because Akaza had defeated her, he hadn’t even fought back. But because she had given herself away, she had let him see too much. She had lost control, her fury spilling forth in every strike she took out on him, and he had caught every single unspoken word of emotion buried beneath her rage.

And now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take it back.

She couldn’t erase the way she had needed him to fight her, the way she had wanted him to give her an excuse to cut him down. Because if she had killed him, if she had ended this, then none of it would have mattered.

Then she wouldn’t have had to face the truth. And maybe then, it would have given her some form of relief — some resolution.

But now? Now she was left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of her failure.

So she’d do the only thing she knew how to do, the only thing that had kept her going and alive for all of these years. She moved forward.

She dragged herself from bed and forced herself into routine; training, scouting missions, overseeing new recruits. She did everything she could to fill her days, to keep her mind too occupied to think of him.

More weeks passed. Then months.

And gradually, painfully, the weight in her chest began to settle into something easier.

Not gone. Never gone. But bearable.

She no longer flinched at the memory of his words. No longer lost herself in sleepless nights wondering what if?

She had come to terms with the truth, at least, as much as she allowed herself to. She could admit that what lingered between them was something.

Not friendship.

Not enmity.

Not love.

Something impossible. Something she would never give voice to. And that was enough.

She was at peace. Or so she told herself.

The night was cool as the air carried the scent of fresh earth and dampened leaves of fall. [Name] sat on the engawa, arms resting against her knees while she watched the gentle ripples of her pond.

It had been a long day, but she felt… calm.

Not restless.

Just here. At ease.

She closed her eyes, letting the sound of trickling water soothe the remaining tension in her body.

But in a moment’s peace, granted, it wouldn’t last in her favor. Because the second she felt that familiar shift in the air, that of the presence she knew a little too well, her eyes opened slowly.

Still, she did not move. She did not turn. She didn’t let herself react.

Because the moment she acknowledged him — the moment she let herself feel anything at all — it would all come undone.

He said nothing at first, not making a single sound. B out she felt him. She felt the weight of his gaze settle over her like a second skin. And inch by inch, she felt the space between them shrink — just enough that his presence was no longer undeniable.

And when he finally spoke, it was as if the months apart had been all for nothing.

“It was as I thought,” Akaza said. “You weren’t truly ready to say goodbye.”

Her breath hitched as soon as those words left his mouth. The same feeling poised her again — that slow, steady ache that would bloom in her chest.

Gods, she hated him. She hated that with just a few words, with nothing more than his presence that he could shatter everything that she had spent months rebuilding. She fucking hated it. She couldn’t bear it.

“I thought I’ve made it clear” she said quietly, her voice steady, her fingers curling deeply into her palms. “This isn’t—”

“A place for a demon?” Akaza interrupted, his tone monotonous.

Her jaw tightened.

“No,” he continued, stepping onto the engawa beside her. He left a careful space between them, but not quite enough. “This is exactly where I should be.”

She turned to him then, finally meeting his eyes she didn’t think she’d yearned to see after all this time. They held no cruelty as they bore into her own deeply, none at all that she’d seen in so many demons. No bloodlust. No hatred or distaste. None of the things that should have made it easy to hate him.

And that was the problem. Because it should have been easy. It should have been simple. But it wasn’t… it never had been.

And the fact that he knew that, that he understood, made it all the more unbearable.

“What do you want, Akaza?” she asked, exhaustion slipping into her voice.

There was a pause in between.

“The same thing you do.”

Her heart lurched. And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. But then it came coursing through her, the feeling of anger. Not at him, but at herself. At whatever foolish part of her had allowed for this to happen.

She sighed, turning her gaze back to the pond. “This is a mistake.”

.“Maybe.”

[Name] felt her pulse steady, like her control was returning. It had been months since the last time. Months since she had allowed herself to think of him. The last time since she had convinced herself she had found peace. But now with his presence beside her, with his voice lingering in the air between them, that fragile peace splintered like brittle glass.

The same thing you do.

The words still echoed in her mind, unraveling the careful distance she had built between herself and the truth. She forced herself to look ahead, to focus on the pond, the water shifting gently beneath the moonlight. Not him. Never him.

“Leave.”

The word left her lips before she could stop it. And she expected him to listen, expected him to step back into the shadows and vanish as he always did. Maybe for certain this time.

But he didn’t. This one time, he didn’t.

Instead, Akaza moved beside her, lowering himself to sit on the engawa. The woman tensed slightly before she forced her head sharply to look at him.

“I said—”

“I refuse.”

She felt something inside her tighten, twisting itself into something excruciating. “You—” Her breath came out unevenly. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He exhaled slowly, those golden orbs of his fixing onto her. “Neither do you.”

Then something inside her snapped. Before she could stop herself, she moved relentlessly, not a single ounce of hesitation within her. She drew her sword in a single motion, the sharp steel slicing through the air and aiming straight for his throat. But in a blur, he blocked it with ease. The force of her strike met the immovable strength of his arm, a gust of wind sweeping between them. Gritting her teeth, she pressed harder, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

“You’re still the same,” Akaza murmured, his voice almost amused.

"Shut the hell up," she hissed, twisting her blade, aiming for another strike, only for him to evade with maddening ease.

Again and again, she attacked. And every time, he dodged, deflected, moved just out of reach. Her frustration mounted, her strikes growing crazier, more desperate. He was toying with her. Making a fool out of her. And it made her furious.

With a sharp inhale, she lunged once more, but this time, Akaza caught her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to stop her.

She couldn’t catch her breath, the sudden contact sending a shock through her system. His grip was firm and steady, but there was no hostility in it. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body incredibly tense, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“Why are you fighting so hard?” He said softly, as if speaking to a wounded animal.

It was a simple question — one that required a not-so-simple response.

With it, she felt her throat begin to tighten.

“Because I have to.”

His hold on her wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go. “You don’t,” he said. “Not with me.”

She wanted to tear herself away. She wanted to deny everything — to shut him out, to pretend none of this was real. That it was all just an agonizing nightmare.

But she couldn’t move. She felt like she couldn’t breathe or think.

Until, something in her shattered.

The rage, the grief, the weight of a thousand unanswered thoughts; it all shattered in a way she could no longer contain. [Name] ripped her wrist free, her breath ragged, and without hesitation, she thrust her sword forward, putting the full force of her body behind it.

This time, he didn’t move.

Steel pierced through his chest, sliding past muscle and bone, sinking deep with a sickening finality that sent a violent tremor through her arms. The impact rattled her to her very core, and for a moment, the world around them stood still.

A piercing inhale left his lips; not a cry, not a gasp of pain — just a breath, one soft and barely audible. His body jerked slightly from the force, and then… nothing.

The scent of blood filled the air.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her pulse thundering in her ears. She had felt it — she felt the give of his ribs — the way her blade had embedded itself into his flesh, the undeniable proof that she had struck true.

And yet, he didn’t fall.

Nor did he push her away.

Nothing but the motion of his hands lifting slowly. And for a moment, she thought he would pry the sword from his chest, wrench it free, defend himself. But he didn’t.

Instead, his fingers curled gently around her wrist, his grip steady; not to stop her, not to retaliate, just to hold her there. Her breath came fast, unevenly while her entire body trembling as warmth seeped between her fingers, staining them red. Her mind screamed at her to pull back, to retreat and get away.

But she couldn’t. Because something in her refused, and she couldn’t bring herself to move.

She stared at him, her vision blurring at the edges, her chest tightening with something unnameable. He wasn’t looking at her with anger. Not with pain. Just something else.

Something far deeper than she ever could have imagined.

“Why—?” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Akaza let out a slow breath, his voice quieter than ever as his face gave way to something she couldn’t read. “Because you needed it.”

The words hit her like a falling boulder. Something inside her twisted violently as the weight of them sunk far beneath her ribs.

For so long, she had been so sure that this was what she wanted. That if she struck him down, if she ended this, then she could finally be at peace. But now, now that her blade was buried in his chest, now that he stood before her, relentless even in his own ruin, she felt nothing but hollow.

“You let me—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

His grip on her wrists tightened just slightly, a silent confirmation.

“I told you,” he murmured despite the blood dripping from his lips. “You don’t have to fight me.”

She wanted to recoil. She wanted to deny him, wanted to rip her hands away and leave this moment behind before it consumed her whole. But she couldn’t.

Because the truth was suffocating.

She hadn’t fought him because she hated him. She had fought him because she didn’t. Her stomach churned violently, nausea coiling in her gut as she had finally realized the truth after all this time.

His grip on her wrists loosened, giving her the chance to pull away — to finish it, once and for all. But still, she didn’t move. It wasn’t because she lacked the strength. It wasn’t because she had hesitated. But because deep down, in the part of herself she had tried so desperately to silence — didn’t want to.

[Name]’s breath shuddered out of her, her body betraying her in its obvious trembling. Every instinct screamed at her to finish it, to finish him. It should have been easy. He had let her do it, let her get to this point.

And yet, her hands refused to move.

This unbearable, undeniable truth that neither of them had spoken aloud.

“What do you want, Hashira?” His voice was softer now, lower, as if this closeness was something fragile, something that could break if he spoke too loud.

She didn’t answer him. She already knew the answer, and it terrified her more than anything.

She had stabbed him through the heart. She had taken every ounce of suppressed rage out onto him without relent. And even through all of that, he was still here.

Still hers to kill.

More importantly, still hers to let go.

[Name] swallowed hard, an unbearable ball in her throat. Her fingers went slack against the hilt, the weight of the sword suddenly so heavy. The blade was still buried in his chest, the dark stain of blood blooming across his skin and into his jacket, but he made no effort to remove it. He only watched her, his gaze unbearably piercing.

Akaza sighed calmly, before he finally did what she hadn’t expected. He let her go.

[Name] felt her pulse roar in her ears, her vision swimming. He had let her strike him. Had given her this, as if she had needed the proof, the reassurance that she could do it if she wanted to. And that he would never stop her.

But that wasn’t what this was about, was it? It had never been about whether she could kill him. It was about whether she would.

And she didn’t.

A broken sound escaped her throat, something between a sob and a laugh. She didn’t know what to do with the storm crashing inside her, with the emotions clawing their way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.

Akaza shifted, his hand raising slowly to touch her face. But even he hesitated. For the first time since she had drawn her blade against, he was the one uncertain.

His fingers hovered inches from her cheek, as if waiting, giving her the chance to pull away if this was something she didn’t want. But she didn’t. The moment his skin met hers, it felt like something within had cracked open.

His touch was cold, too cold. It should have disgusted her. It should have sent her recoiling and pulling away from him. Instead, her breath stilled, her body going utterly still beneath the weight of his palm. Akaza held his breath, as if he’d grounded himself for that exact moment. His thumb brushed the edge of her cheekbone, so soft it was barely a touch at all.

“Do you understand now?” His voice was low and quiet, but there was something else there, making her throat tighten.

[Name] swallowed hard. She did understand now. She understood it even if he didn’t say it directly.

This wasn’t a battle like the one she’d been fighting with herself all along. This wasn’t something she could fight her way out of.

This was her.

Her fear, her want. Her inability to look at him and see a blood-killing monster when all she could see was him.

She despised him for that. She despised how easily he had stripped her of the armor she had spent years forging around herself. That despite everything, she’d let him do it.

Her eyes shut briefly as she inhaled sharply, tearing herself back and wrenching her sword free from his chest in one swift motion.

Akaza let out a quiet, pained breath at the loss of the steel, his body jerking slightly from the force of it, but he didn’t stumble. Not even as blood seeped from the wound, dark and rich before it healed itself with unnerving speed, closing up as if it had never been there at all.

The weight of it all crashed over her, aching and suffocating. For the first time in a very long time, she had finally broken. She tried to suppress it, she stride so desperately to swallow away the ball forming in her throat. But damn it, it was already too late.

A shuddering breath tore from her lips, her hands began to tremble again as the corners of her eyes stung with blurring vision. Her body had betrayed her at last, with every one of its brick walls crashing down.

And Akaza, he didn’t gloat. He didn’t smirk in his own amusement, nor did he use this moment to prove himself right. He just stood there, like he always did.

[Name] let out a choked, bitter laugh, though it held no humor. “I hate you,” she whispered, but there was no venom behind her words, nothing but pure exhaustion. Only something dangerously close to surrender. “I really fucking hate you.”

Akaza cocked his head slightly, his lips curling not into an arrogant smirk, but a small, knowing grin. “I know.”

She forced herself to look at him. She wanted to speak — to say something in retort, something cruel — anything that would drive him away for good. But the words never came.

Instead, she just stared at him, like a lost, angry puppy. Even then, there was a sense of an unseen force that fell between them, pressing itself in uncontrollably.

The demon’s eyes flickered across her face, searching, reading her in a way that made her insides knot. His gaze lingered — on her eyes, on the tension in her lips, the unsteadiness in her breath.

She felt like an open book beneath his scrutiny, stripped bare in a way she had spent years avoiding.

Nonetheless, he did nothing.

And that was what hurt the most.

[Name] had convinced herself, that for so long, she didn’t need him, that this pull between them was nothing more than a fleeting, dangerous illusion. But standing here now, trapped in the gravity of his presence, she knew that denial was no longer an option.

“Why did you come back?” She finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was a quiet, undeniable softness in Akaza’s eyes — no mask, no deflection like she wanted there to be. No, it was real.

“Because I couldn’t leave without knowing the truth.” His voice was steady, weighted with something deeper than words.

Her pulse stuttered. There it was, his truth. His want for an answer he’d also yearned for all this time… just like she did.

It had been chasing her for so long, lurking in the corners of every fight, every fleeting glance, every moment she had refused to accept. And now, he was forcing her to face it.

Then he took a step closer.

[Name] held her breath as he did. She wanted to back away — she should have distanced herself from him. She should have done anything but stand there, frozen in place before him.

But the truth was, she couldn’t force herself to. And more honestly, she didn’t want to.

And neither did he.

Then, with careful motion, as if afraid she might break — he raised his hand to her face again.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Man, did she hate the way her body wanted to give in to him so easily, into his soft, delicate touch.

Even as his fingertips ghosted along the curve of her cheek, did it become too much. His coldness, his nearness, the endearing way he was looking at her. Not as a Demon Slayer, not as a person who should be his enemy, not as the woman or Hashira who fought him.

Just her.

“You’re not alone,” Akaza confessed, his voice like a whisper against her skin. “You never were.”

With every assurance of his words, every layer of the walls she built broke down, brick by brick. But instead of forcing what she felt away, or pushing it down deep inside her heart… she allowed herself to feel it.

To feel this.

The connection between them, tender and sentimental, something neither of them could bring themselves to say but both knew was real.

Then, Akaza’s hand slid down her jaw, his fingers lingering as if debating whether to let go. For a moment, she thought he would.

Until his palm cupped her face.

[Name] sucked in a breath, the beat of her heart stammering greatly. His touch was gentle but unyielding, holding her there in a way that made her want to fall apart.

And when he leaned in, so close that his forehead brushed hers, that his breath mingled with her own — she knew.

There was no turning back now. Her resistance, threadbare and fragile, it unraveled then and there.

Akaza was here now. And as he was for her, so was she for him.

They didn’t move nor did they speak.

The silence between them was heavy, unbearably loud despite the quietness. Their bodies were so close, their breaths becoming uneven, the weight of all the unsaid things pressing in, pressing down. It was too much, and yet at the same time, it felt like everything they’d been waiting for.

“I’m not going to let you go,” Akaza whispered. “Not again.”

[Name]’s eyes fluttered shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. But she didn’t pull away.

Because now, she didn’t care anymore.

This — he — was her truth. He had been all this time. And now, there was no fighting it anymore.

She remained still, her body trembling only slightly as Akaza’s cold hand lingered on her cheek, his breath warm against hers.

Her heartbeat was pounding so loudly against her ribs she was sure Akaza could probably hear it. It didn’t help with the way his thumb traced the tear on her cheek — such a gentle touch, too gentle for a power-hungry demon who’d eaten more than hundreds of her kind. But even that didn’t force her away, like it should have from the very beginning.

[Name] blinked rapidly, trying to force the rest of her tears away, but they came anyway.

She tried to look away out of embarrassment, to pull herself back together, but his hand tilted her chin back, refusing to let her escape.

“Don’t hide from me,” he spoke softly. “Let it out.”

Her chest tightened at those words. And so, at his demand, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

She was so tired.

Tired of fighting. Tired of pushing him away.

His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, holding her there. And then, slowly — gently — he leaned in.

[Name]’s breath stilled, the anticipation crashing over her like an ocean’s wave. She didn’t move from him, not as his lips hovered over hers.

There was a pause until she felt it. The gentlest press of his lips against hers, so soft and delicate — unhurried as he stole the breath from her lungs.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hungry or reckless. It wasn’t any of that. No, it was nothing short of passionate — intense in a way like Akaza was memorizing her, savoring the weight of her lips against his own, and pulling her deeper into him in a way she didn’t understand — but felt in every fiber of her being.

[Name]’s hands found his shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of his vest, gripping him as if she might fall if she let go. Her body, stiff and uncertain at first, began to melt beneath the warmth of his touch.

She didn’t know how to respond.

But she felt everything.

Her grip on his shoulders tightened. She had spent so long resisting, fighting against this pull and against him — but now, as his lips moved against hers with a slowness that was both unbearable and intoxicating, she felt that final barrier within her shatter.

She wasn’t supposed to want this.

She wasn’t supposed to want him.

But gods help her she did.

Akaza’s hand remained at the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as though he were committing the feel of it to his memory, as though he never wanted to forget. He kissed her with a tenderness that unraveled her entirely, each movement of their lips coaxing — like he was giving her every chance to pull away.

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

The warmth of him had seeped into her, and she didn’t want to let any of it escape.

When they finally parted, [Name] sucked in a shaky breath, her forehead resting against his. Her chest was heaving, her body unsteady, but she didn’t let go — and he didn’t either.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to find some semblance of control, but it was impossible. Not when his touch lingered against her skin, not when she could still feel the imprint of his lips against hers.

His thumb brushed against her jaw, tracing slow, reverent circles, and his voice — oh, his voice — low and rough with something dangerously close to emotion had broken through the silence.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

[Name] scoffed, a bitter laugh catching in her throat. Afraid? She had fought demons. She had walked through blood-soaked battlefields. She had stood at death’s door more times than she could count.

But this — this feeling, this raw and aching need — was more petrifying than any of it.

She swallowed hard, her gaze averting away. “You don’t understand.”

Akaza tilted his head slightly, his fingers still tracing along her jaw. “Then tell me.”

She opened her mouth, the words forming at the tip of her tongue — I can’t lose you. I can’t care for you. I can’t survive this if I do.

But she couldn’t say them.

Akaza exhaled, a sound so soft, so knowing, that it sent another shiver through her. His grip on her waist tightened ever-so slightly, just enough for her to feel the weight of it.

“[Name].”

Her name — her true name — fell from his lips like something sacred.

“I don’t want to be just another regret to you.”

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her as tears stung the corners of her eyes. And again, another tear slipped before she could stop it. But this time, she didn’t turn away from him — didn’t hide.

And when Akaza leaned in again, pressing another slow, lingering kiss against her lips, she didn’t fight it.

She kissed him back.

And just like that, she let herself fall, deeper and deeper still into the whirlwind of feelings she had long suppressed, slowly as their lips moved in perfect rhythm.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, pressing herself against him. He was cold, yet warm all the same — solid beneath her hands, anchoring her to this moment, to him. The tenderness of the kiss had deepened, something more urgent beginning to stir between them.

A wave of heat spread through her chest, her skin tingling at every touch, every movement. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her — like he was giving her everything, like there was nothing left to hold back.

[Name] parted her lips slightly, and the moment she did, she swore she felt her soul nearly leaving her body. With newfound access, the kiss was no longer slow and sensual — instead, it turned heated and desperate, like they had both been waiting for this for so damned long.

She felt him now, really felt him, the growing erection straining against his pants and pressing insistently against her clothed intimacy. The warmth in her veins spread to her limbs, the tension of months coming undone, as though a dam had burst, and the pent-up desire came flooding out, traveling straight to her core.

The warmth of his breath against her skin, the way his hands gripped her waist, pulling her in, refusing to let even the smallest space remain between them. His touch was possessive, not forceful — more needing rather than taking. It was as if letting her go was simply not an option.

[Name] responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, as if she could disappear into him entirely. Their tongues moved in an unrelenting rhythm, a dance of both heat and urgency. [Name] let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh against his lips, like she had been holding her breath for far too long.

Akaza’s breathing was ragged now, uneven, matching the frantic pulse thrumming beneath her skin.

She pulled away briefly, gasping for air, her fingers clutching at his vest as her chest heaved. The intensity of the kiss left her dizzy, her knees buckling beneath her. But Akaza was quick to catch her, keeping her from falling.

Her face was already flushed from their embrace, and now, even more so as she muttered a breathless, embarrassed apology, trying to regain her composure. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Akaza interrupted, his voice low and husk.

Slowly, he eased them both down, bringing himself to kneel as he hoisted her onto his lap, her legs settling against his hips. The shift in position sent a shiver down her spine. Her breath caught, her body tensing at the newfound closeness.

If she hadn’t felt it enough before, well, she certainly did now — the solid warmth of him beneath her, the way his hands gripped her waist, holding her there like he had no intention of letting go.

[Name] swallowed hard, willing herself to suppress the soft sound threatening to escape her lips, her body betraying just how much she was losing herself to him.

But even then, Akaza was far from finished. He guided her back against the floorboards, his touch careful and gentle — like she was something precious, something fragile. And she let him, trusting his movements as he shifted himself over her, his weight barely pressing against her yet grounding her all the same.

His eyes roamed over her, tracing the shape of her face, lingering on her lips, then drifting lower — over the exposed skin of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest, the subtle curves hinted at beneath the fabric of her uniform. He didn’t speak, and he sure as hell didn’t need to. His gaze alone was enough to make her get nervous.

Heat crept up her neck, a flush spreading across her skin as she realized how intently he was looking at her. The silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Stop that,” she mumbled, her voice laced with shyness and uncertainty. There was no bite to her words, no real protest — just the overwhelming feeling of being seen in a way she never had before.

“Why?” He smirked, a low chuckle escaping his lips at her sudden shyness. “Am I not allowed to admire the woman dearest to me?”

[Name] rolled her eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You can do that by finishing what you started, Upper Three.” Her tone shifted then, her face growing serious, though a flicker of amusement still danced in her eyes.

Then, his hand drifted to her covered chest, fingers grazing the button of her jacket before tugging at it — yet he didn’t undo it. Instead, his eyes lifted again to meet her own, searching for permission. In a silent plea, her expression softened, and with a small nod, she gave it.

He didn’t waste another second, his fingers slipped each button through its hole, undoing them one by one until her upper half lay fully exposed to him. [Name] sighed as the cool air kissed her skin, sending a trail of goosebumps across her body while her buds hardened. Then, he reached for the belt of her bakama, loosening it just enough to slide everything off completely. She let him, even lifting before her bare skin met the cold wooden boards.

She hissed at the chill, earning an amused chuckle from Akaza.

“You know, demons don’t get cold.”

He watched her with a knowing look she knew too damn well. Especially in regard to what he was implying.

“So, why don’t you—”

“Don’t start,” [Name] cut him off before he could finish.

“Just saying.”

And there she lay, fully exposed to him, and Akaza couldn’t have asked for anything more. His eyes swept over her — not with lust, no, nothing like that — but with pure admiration. As if he were worshipping her very existence, memorizing every inch and color of her skin — the marks, the scars from countless battles, the curves, the beauty — engraving it all into his memory forever.

Her face reddened slightly, flustered under his intense gaze. “Akaza—”

“Just let me admire you.”

Soon enough, he leaned in, his lips finding her neck, trailing impossibly soft kisses along her sensitive skin. Every kiss of his was wet and slow, the warmth of his lips leaving behind a tingly, cool trail that made her shiver with want as he got closer and closer to her chest. [Name]’s grip on his shoulders tightened as her body instinctively arched into him, craving more.

His mouth moved with purpose, while his hand slid up to cup her breast, his fingers kneading it with gentle reverence. And at the same time, his thumb brushed lightly over the delicate bud of her nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

The touch sparked a soft moan from her lips, a whispered implication of the delight that was building inside her.

The sound she made ignited something deep within him. And as his mouth traveled lower, pressing kisses against her other breast before closing in on the hardened peak — the scent of her growing arousal reached him, sending a shudder through his body. His length throbbed at the thought of being buried deep inside her — if she’d let him. Oh, how he hoped she would.

His tongue flicked over her bud, drawing a moan louder than she had realized before he took the entire areola into his mouth, suckling it gently. Purposefully, he pressed his hardened cock against her soaked cunt, the sudden contact making her gasp.

Her thighs instinctively tightened around him, and she bit down on her knuckles, struggling to stifle the whimpers and moans threatening to spill from her lips.

He noticed, releasing her as he reached for her wrist in protest.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” His gold eyes locked onto hers, filled with unspoken desire. “Please… don’t hide your sounds from me.”

“Akaza…” she breathed, the sound of his name slipping from her lips as a soft plea and compliance.

His name on her tongue, his hands on her skin — it was too much, too overwhelming, and yet she couldn’t stop. The world outside of them, everything she had once believed, everything she had fought for — it all seemed irrelevant now.

It was just the two of them, here, in this moment, consumed by something neither of them had expected, something neither of them could escape.

Then his lips trailed back up to hers, claiming them once more in a deep, searing kiss. She melted into it, into him, as though she had no control over her own body anymore. She didn’t want control. She wanted this. She wanted him, so so badly.

But even as she gave in, as she let herself be swept away by the heat of the moment, a quiet voice in the back of her mind still whispered to her. This was dangerous.

She broke the kiss, gasping a desperate plea. “Mm, Akaza...”

He knew exactly what she wanted. And oh, how badly he wanted to give it to her — because she deserved nothing less than the most mind-shattering pleasure of her life. And he would give it to her… but not just yet.

“Almost,” he mumbled in promise. His lips found her neck once more, trailing down her chest, over her sternum, and lower still — until he hovered just above her navel, dangerously close to where she needed him most.

In an agonizingly slow pace, he kissed his way down her body, nearing her thighs but avoiding the one place she wanted him to be. Each kiss danced around the sensitive area, teasing her further. [Name] could feel her patience beginning to fray, her hips bucking desperately, seeking any kind of friction against her pulsing clit.

“So eager,” Akaza teased, flashing a wicked grin. And gods, how she ached to fuck that grin off his face.

“Don’t tease me,” she complained, pulling his head between her thighs until he effortlessly pried them apart with his hands.

He hovered just above her, his breath hot against her wetness as he inhaled her intoxicating scent. "As you wish," he whispered, his voice dark with intent.

As she directed, Akaza's tongue traced a languid path from the entrance of her pussy to her clit, circling the sensitive bud with intentional slowness before his lips closed around it, sucking with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. Instantly, the sensation became almost too much to bear, [Name]’s hand instinctively flying to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips bucked wildly, seeking to break free from the restraint of his grip.

But Akaza was nothing short of relentless, his hands pinning her down, holding her in place as he continued to lavish attention on her clit. Her body thrashed against his hand, her moans and whimpers rising to a fevered pitch, a symphony of sound that was both desperate and pleading.

The air was thick with strain, heavy with the weight of her desire as Akaza's mouth worked its magic, drawing her closer to the edge of ecstasy with every passing moment.

"...f-fuck," she whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to restrain herself from grinding her hips into his face. The lewd sounds of his slurping and sucking only seemed to intensify her arousal, making her wetter and more eager for release.

Akaza, meanwhile, was consumed by his own passion for her. He couldn't get enough of her taste, which was sweeter and more intoxicating than anything he'd ever experienced before. The flavor of her was like a rich, heady wine, and he was drunk on it, craving more with every passing moment.

She was wet for him, and only him, and that knowledge only added to his arousal. He'd consumed the blood of many humans before, but none had ever tasted as good as she did. In fact, her flavor was almost as intoxicating as the rare and coveted blood of the marechi, a delicacy among his kind.

He was determined to savor every last drop of her, to drink in her essence and satisfy her desires, no matter how long it took. The thought of stopping was unbearable, and he knew he wouldn't be able to tear himself away until she was fully satisfied.

"So good," he moaned, his voice muffled against her skin as he shifted his attention to her opening. His hand slid upwards, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in gentle, insistent circles.

The sensation was becoming increasingly overwhelming, and she felt herself teetering on the edge of release.

"H-Hah..." she gasped, her breath catching in her throat as her body began to tense. "Gonna cum... A-Akaza," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Her hips were moving of their own accord, thrusting upwards to meet his tongue as her climax began to build.

The feeling was intense, all-consuming, and she knew she was on the verge of losing control completely.

As he heard her words, Akaza's movements became more frenzied, his desire to bring her to climax overriding all else. He rubbed her bud with a ferocious intensity, his thumb moving in rapid, insistent circles as his tongue thrust deeper into her, stroking her inner walls with a passionate abandon.

[Name]’s eyes rolled back in her head, her vision blurring as white spots danced before her eyes.

"C-Cumming," she cried out. "Akaza, I'm cumming!"

The words were torn from her lips as her body began to shudder, the first tremors of her orgasm rippling through her like a gathering storm.

At last, her body surrendered to the wave of release, shuddering and convulsing as the crashing tide of pleasure swept over her. Her juices flowed freely, flooding Akaza's mouth with a warm, sticky torrent. He was ready, his lips and tongue working tirelessly to capture every last drop, refusing to waste a single moment of this shared pleasure.

As he savored the last drops of her essence, his own desire reached a boiling point, his erection straining painfully against the confines of his pants.

Yet, he restrained himself, waiting for [Name] to catch her breath as he gently released her trembling legs from his shoulders. His fingers idly drew circles on the skin of her thighs as he shifted into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers.

But rather than wait for him to make the next move, [Name]’s yearning proved to be more impatient. Her legs suddenly wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer as she drew him into a fierce, passionate embrace.

Her face was flushed with need, her eyes burning with an unspoken want that left no doubt about her intentions. Though she didn't utter a word, her gaze spoke volumes, conveying a sense of urgency and longing that Akaza couldn't ignore.

Without hesitation, he surrendered to their mutual pining, his hands swiftly moving to loosen the lace of his pants. He shoved them down, his cock springing free as [Name] watched with hooded eyes, her gaze focused on the rigid length of him.

It stood rock solid against his navel, already glistening with precum, a testament of his waning. [Name]’s eyes didn’t break, her attention riveted on his erection as she teasingly widened her legs, inviting him in.

"Seems like I wasn't the only one who was impatient," the words dripping with a sultry teasing, her voice was husky with desire as she spoke.

Akaza remained silent. But damn did the sound of her voice, the sight of her glistening before him send a sharp pulse of heat straight to the tip of his cock.

And again, he leaned over her, his arms caging her him as she felt him brush against her inner thigh. He settled himself to rest over the folds of her glistening pussy, the warmth of her body enveloping him. As he made contact with her skin, his breath hitched in his throat, and he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan. He began to rub his dick between her wetness, the friction and moisture combining to lubricate himself.

"So wet," Akaza said, his voice low and sultry, as he continued to tease himself against her. "I can feel how much you want me, how much you need me."

[Name] sighed in desperation, her lips parting slightly as she waited for him to claim her. Her hands rose, fingers tracing the contours of his face, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.

"I've wanted you for so long," she expressed, her voice barely louder than their heavy breaths entwining in the space between them.

"And you have no idea how long I've craved you," Akaza admitted back, positioning himself at her entrance.

But he didn’t move forward just yet. Instead, he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt that might make him stop. But there was none. No fear, no regret — only a quiet tenderness in her eyes, a trust so deep it left him breathless.

And that… that told him everything.

"Please," she whispered, a soft, desperate plea.

It was all he needed.

“If it becomes too much, tell me, and I’ll stop,” he assured her, placing kisses along her neck and collarbone as he slowly pressed himself inside her with a suck of his breath.

[Name]’s breath hitched, sensitive from her earlier release, her body tensing as he stretched her inch by inch, the overwhelming sensation threatening to spill over into tears.

Sensing her struggle, Akaza stilled, refusing to push any further despite his body wanting to fight against it. Instead, he pressed tender kisses to her face, his touch full of quiet reassurance. But before he could speak, he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in completely. His nearly choked, eyes widening in surprise at her boldness.

Pain lingered in her expression as she met his gaze, but instead of hesitation, there was a playful grin.

“I’ve felt worse,” she reassured. “So please… don’t stop.”

In that moment, Akaza was certain — she wanted this, she wanted him. Despite the pain she endured, there was no hesitancy, only that of an unwavering certainty.

At last, once she had adjusted to his length, he began to move. His hips rolled in slow, steady strokes, careful not to push too hard too soon. With each measured thrust, he felt her body gradually relax, molding against him as the tension melted away.

He knew it still hurt — he could see it in the way her brows furrowed whenever he pushed too deep. But soon, the tension eased, giving way to heavier breaths and the sweet, unrestrained sounds slipping from her lips.

Before he knew it, he was moving within her far more easily, though she was still so incredibly tight that it nearly unraveled him right then and there. Her growing wetness only made it worse, the slick heat pulling him in deeper, making his own breathing turn uneven as he felt himself slowly losing control.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his brows drawing together as he captured her lips with his, his teeth clenching at the way her walls fluttered around him in response to every sound he made. “S-So good.”

[Name] moaned into his mouth, her body jolting each time his navel pressed against her clit, sending shivers through her. The contrast of her heated skin against his cool chest only heightened the sensation, her hardened buds brushing against him with every movement. Sweat slicked her body as Akaza moved with growing desperation.

“F-Faster, Akaza,” she pleaded, her head pressing back against the floorboards as coils of release began to build inside her again. She felt incredible — better than she ever imagined — after yearning for him for so long. And now, here they were, consumed by the fire of their own desire, lost in the raw need they had for each other.

She couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Akaza's response was immediate, his hips surging forward as he drove into her with increased urgency. The sounds of skin against skin filled the air as his breath came in sharp gasps, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to sear her very soul.

“[Name]," he groaned, his voice cracking with pleasure. "You’re squeezing me… so damn tightly.”

He tried to be gentle, truly, he did. But something primal had completely overridden Akaza’s sense of self. He could feel himself getting closer, and he knew, with certainty, that she was almost there too.

But the closer he got, the worse he waned.

His hands found refuge beneath her ass, hoisting her up by the hips as he kneeled and continued his growing assault deep into her pussy. The sudden change in position sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and she felt herself being lifted to new heights of pleasure.

“O-Oh,” she gasped in uneven whimpers as the sound of slapping skin grew louder, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned away. “Fuck! Gonna cum!” The words tumbled out of her mouth, but Akaza was far from finished.

“Look at me. Don’t hide,” he demanded, his voice straining against his own moans. Then, in an unexpected twist, he threw her legs over his shoulders, leveraging himself forward as he plunged into her impossibly deeper than she’d ever thought was possible.

She nearly screamed, her arms hooking over his triceps as he pressed his forehead against her own. The intimacy of the moment was immense, and she felt herself being drawn into the depths of his eyes — watching every expression he made, every twitch of his face, every flash of pleasure in his eyes.

His movements were desperate, fucking into her like a wild animal, and she felt herself being consumed by the same primal urge. The sound of their bodies crashing together filled the air, a cacophony of skin slapping skin, of heavy breathing, and of desperate gasps.

And that was all it took, all it took as he hit that sweet spongy spot that sent her reeling over the edge.

“I’m cumming—oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!”

The sensation was like a dam breaking, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over her, sweeping her away on a sea of ecstasy. She felt herself contracting around him, her body milking him for every last drop of his cum, as Akaza's own movements became more frantic, more urgent. He was chasing his own release, and she knew that she was the only one who could give it to him.

She squeezed around his cock, still moving frantically inside her as she rode her orgasm, his hips growing sloppier by the second. The sensation of her inner walls contracting around him was almost too much to bear, and Akaza's control began to slip. He was a man, a demon, possessed, driven by a primal urge to claim her, to fill her with his seed.

Fighting back one deep guttural groan, his voice broke, his breath gasping as he drilled into her one last time. The sound that tore from his throat was raw and animalistic. His body shuddering as his arms reached to wrap tightly, but not too tight, around her twitching form. He held her close, his fingers digging into her skin as he rode out the waves of his own climax.

He came, and he came a lot. Deep inside of her fluttering walls that milked every ounce of cum out of him. The sensation was overpowering, a rush of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

For the first time, Akaza felt himself being drained, his body emptying into hers as she continued to contract around him. It was a feeling of complete surrender, of total release, and he knew that he would never be the same again.

As the last spasms of his orgasm faded away, he collapsed against her, his body spent before his stamina and senses quickly returned, his mind reeling from the intensity of their passion.

He remained still inside her, lifting his head to rest gently on her chest. "Are you... okay?" he asked hesitantly, like a sudden shyness had overtaken him.

[Name] lay there, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving her lips. "Never better."

They lay in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them. There was no need for further conversation; their bodies spoke for them, a quiet assurance that everything would be alright.

[Name]’s thoughts drifted to the long months she had spent running from her own heart. She had buried her feelings, hidden them beneath layers of denial, convinced it was easier that way.

It was easier to run.

To replace every ounce of her pain, every ounce of herself that told her these feelings were everything but real. That it was all some sick delusion. And to replace it with something numb.

And it was easier to go, than for her to face all of her pain head on, all alone.

Easier to push away the overwhelming emotions that had clung to her for so long. The fear of letting them consume her had always been stronger than the pull of her wants.

But now, in the stillness of the moment, she realized something — she’d never truly escaped.

This, right here, with him, was where she truly belonged.

Despite the worlds they came from, the roles they were destined to play — Demon Slayer and Demon — she couldn’t ignore the truth that was unfolding before her. They would face each other someday, inevitably, as enemies. It was a harsh reality, one they both understood. But not now. Not in this moment.

For now, they had this. The comfort of one another, the shared sense of peace that seemed impossible in the world they lived in. [Name] pressed her lips gently to his forehead, holding onto the fleeting warmth of the moment.

And for as long as it lasted, she would savor it — this connection, this quiet understanding.

They didn’t need to speak to know. This was their time. And this, was their now.

.

.

.

.

the end.

a/n: Thank you all so so so much for the support from this fic. I can’t believe it gained the attraction that it did, especially as of recent (the infinity castle did something to y’all, huh lmaoooo)

A little back story in pertains to the work is that it was greatly inspired by Linkin Park’s song, Easier to Run. Earlier this year, I was in a bad headspace, with life constantly kicking me in the ass. This song was one that resonated with me deeply, because for me, running away from my problems made it easier instead of facing it head on. But even then, you can’t outrun them forever, and Akaza was an example of that.

Akaza, being my all time favorite character within the demon slayer franchise, drew me to whip this fic up. A story where the main protagonist, the reader, is in deep conflict with her emotions once she begins to realize her feelings towards Akaza. And instead of accepting it, not only because she’s a hashira, but because of the deep resentment she held deep within herself for even thinking of him in that way — a demon, who is a sworn enemy, and an enemy against humanity. It was forbidden, and she knew what was at stake because of it. So what better way than to face her emotions than to run away from them.

“I see.” It took every ounce of her impressive self-restraint not to laugh aloud. “What a shame. Remind me exactly what it is we can’t do, love?”

“I can’t do this.” You gave a sweeping gesture, nearly violent enough to knock yourself off-balance. “It’s not you—I mean, it is you, with the kidnapping and imprisonment and all, but aside from that, I just—” A deep, shuddering breath, followed shortly by a pitchy, almost keening noise. “I’m just not ready to be a mother.”

This time, Arlecchino couldn’t stop herself – a single, breathy chuckle slipping past her lips. Your frowned deepened, and she did her best to sober quickly. “I’m sorry, I—” She steepled her fingers in front of her, leaning forward to rest her chin on the point of intersection. “I suppose I wasn’t aware you were going to be.”

If you heard, you clearly weren’t listening. Rather unceremoniously, the glass splintered; your thin veneer of composure falling away as the first tear broke free, shortly followed by a second, then a third. She lost count somewhere around the dozenth. “It’s not that I don’t love your children,” you started, your voice cracking as you struggled to wipe at your eyes between words. “I mean, I love them all in spite of them being yours, which is actually really impressive because I find you so unbearably off-putting to be around, but— I’m sorry, I’m just not ready for this level of responsibility. There’s… how many? Fifty of them? Two hundred?”

“My love.” She pushed herself to her feet, dulling her voice into the softest, smoothest possible coo. “Isn’t it about time for you to retire for the night?”

“How could you possibly want to go to sleep at a time like this?” You were sobbing now, rather unabashedly. All attempts to maintain your dignity had been laid aside in favor of burying your face in your palms and hanging your head almost pitifully low. “I have five hundred kids to take care of!”

Whether you were too distracted to notice her arms wrapping around you or simply too panicked to care, it would’ve been impossible to say. You failed to protest as she pulled you against her chest, only sniffling miserably and burying your face in her coat. “You seem to have forgotten that ‘Father’ is only a title,” she murmured as gently as she could, letting her lips brush against the top of your head, then your tear-stained cheek. “Most of my children have already grown out of the need for a true mother and father, and I doubt those who haven’t view either of us in a very paternal light. Do you understand?”

There was a delay, but she felt you nod against her chest. Arlecchino could only sigh, already moving to exit her study. “Let’s get you to bed, dear.”

~

You were still unconscious by the time she rose the next morning, no doubt putting off the inevitable hangover. She left you where you lied and, after making sure a pitcher of water would be waiting for you when you woke up, went about her obligations.

It was only a few hours later that, during a conversation with Lyney, he seemed to pause, to glance to either side. Whatever he’d planned to say was quickly forgotten in favor of a new tangent. “I don’t think I’ve seen mom yet, today.”

At that, Arlecchino perked up. “Mom?”

He caught himself quickly, straightening. “Mother, I mean. (Y/n). My apologies, Lynette's disregard must be rubbing off on me.”

She took a moment to purse her lips, to do what she often did best and consider the information that’d been laid at her feet. “Lyney,” she said, eventually, when she’d made up her mind.