— OVERPROTECTIVE BEST FRIENDS.
˖᯽ ݁˖· pairing: fem!reader x sanemi x obanai x giyu
˖᯽ ݁˖· summary: sanemi, obanai, giyu—three hashira who seem to show great care and protection towards you. you see them as your best friends, but they feel otherwise.
a/n: let me know if y’all want me to write individual bonus scenes for each one!
You had no idea how you’d ended up here—tangled in the middle of three Hashira with the worst compatibility known to mankind.
But somehow, against all odds, they were your best friends. You still didn’t understand how this strange circle had formed.
You’d met Obanai first. The quiet observer who, for some reason, let his guard down around you.
Then came Sanemi, through Obanai. Rough around the edges but loyal once he cared.
And finally, Giyu. Someone you’d befriended on your own, despite the very loud complaints from the other two.
Despite their constant bickering, you loved spending time with them. There was something comforting about their chaos—the rough banter, the unspoken protectiveness, the quiet moments that snuck up between arguments.
You weren’t sure how it happened, but you somehow managed to convince all three of them to hang out together. It was a miracle in itself—Sanemi’s irritation, Obanai’s silent judgment, and Giyu’s unreadable calm somehow coexisting in one space.
It wasn’t perfect. They clashed often, threw sharp words, and you’d find yourself sighing as you smoothed it all over again. But they showed up every single time. Whether it was a shared meal at your place, a walk through the village, or quiet nights after missions, they always came.
You all were dining at a restaurant, the atmosphere was warm and it hummed with low chatter and clinking dishes. You sat beside Giyu on one side of the table, his shoulder brushing yours now and then whenever either of you reached for something. Across from you sat Sanemi and Obanai—side by side, still as stone, both watching the steam rise from their bowls as if it had personally offended them.
The air wasn’t hostile, not exactly. Just thick. Too still for how small the table was.
You tried to ignore it, smiling as you poured tea for everyone. “See? I told you this place had good food,” you said, sliding cups across.
Sanemi muttered, “If the food’s half as good as the hype, maybe I’ll agree.” He didn’t look up, but the twitch of his mouth betrayed a smirk.
Obanai picked up his chopsticks. “You complain before tasting anything. It’s a miracle anyone believes a word you say.”
“Didn’t ask you to,” Sanemi shot back easily, but there was no bite to it, just that habitual edge in his voice.
You exhaled, amused. “You two could find a way to argue over the weather.”
That earned the smallest sound from Giyu—not quite a laugh, just a quiet exhale that almost passed as one. It drew your eyes to him, and when he met your gaze, you smiled, bumping his shoulder lightly before turning back to your food.
Across the table, Obanai’s chopsticks stilled for a fraction of a second. Sanemi’s did too. Neither said anything. They didn’t have to.
Obanai spoke first, low and calm. “You’re awfully quiet, Tomioka. Something wrong with the food?”
Giyu didn’t look up. “No.”
Sanemi leaned back, voice rough. “You just sit there and brood for fun, then?”
You gave them a warning glance, tone light but firm. “Hey. Be nice.”
Sanemi grunted. “I am being nice.”
“You’re never nice,” Obanai muttered, which earned him a short snort from you. The sound made both men glance up at the same time.
It wasn’t loud—your laugh never was—but it filled the space just enough to soften the sharp edges in the air.
For a few moments, the conversation actually flowed. You asked about a mission, Sanemi complained about patrol routes, Obanai added something about strategy. You chimed in here and there, teasing them both just enough to earn half-smiles.
Every so often, your sleeve brushed Giyu’s arm as you reached across the table. He didn’t move away, and you didn’t notice, but Sanemi did and so did Obanai.
They didn’t glare or make a scene. They just ate in silence a little too carefully, each lost in his own thoughts.
You were smiling, happy, unaware.
They were holding it together. Barely.
But the walk back to the Corps was something else.
The night air was cool, the road lit by faint lanterns swaying in the breeze. You were talking mid-sentence, when your sandal caught on an uneven stone.
Your foot twisted, and before you could steady yourself, you went down with a soft thud.
Suddenly, Giyu, Sanemi, and Obanai were all crouched around you, forming an impromptu circle like bodyguards in a crisis.
You blinked up at them, startled. “Guys.. I’m fine! I just tripped.”
Giyu was already checking your ankle. His hand was careful, almost too gentle. “You sprained it.”
Sanemi frowned. “How bad?”
You shook your head. “Not bad! Just sore—”
“Don’t move,” Giyu said quietly.
Sanemi cut in, voice gruff but firm. “Alright, move over. I’ll carry her.”
You stared. “What? No, you—”
Obanai interrupted smoothly, “You? You’ll jostle her all the way back.”
Sanemi scowled. “The hell does that mean?”
“You’re too rough,” Obanai replied. “You’ll end up shaking her ankle loose. I'll carry her.”
Sanemi bristled, rising to his feet. “I’ll shake you loose if you don’t shut it.”
You sat there on the ground between them, looking from one to the other. “Are you seriously arguing over who carries me?”
Giyu’s calm voice broke through, quiet but firm. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”
Both heads snapped toward him.
Obanai’s tone sharpened. “Since when do you volunteer for anything?”
Giyu didn’t flinch. “You’re both too loud. She needs steady balance.”
That set Sanemi off instantly. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean—?!”
Obanai crossed his arms. “He’s implying we can’t handle her properly.”
You threw your hands up. “Handle me? I’m right here!”
Giyu stood up, calm as ever, and extended his arm toward you. “Come on.”
You blinked. “Giyu, no— I can walk—”
Sanemi snorted. “Like hell you’re letting him carry you.”
Obanai’s eyes narrowed. “Agreed.”
They both stepped closer at the same time. “I’ll carry you,” they said in sync.
You groaned. “Oh, for crying out loud—”
Sanemi glared at Obanai. “You can barely lift a crate.”
“I don’t drop things, though.”
Giyu quietly slid an arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees before they could notice. In one smooth motion, he lifted you effortlessly.
Obanai’s hand hung suspended in the air.
Giyu looked at you, expression unreadable. “It’s faster this way.”
“Put her down,” Sanemi said flatly.
“I can walk,” you protested weakly, clutching his shoulder.
Obanai muttered, “Unbelievable.”
Giyu didn’t respond. He just adjusted his hold slightly to keep your ankle still and started walking—calm, steady, completely ignoring the two fuming men following behind.
Sanemi ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “He’s dead. I’m actually gonna kill him.”
Obanai hissed through his teeth. “Not before I do.”
Meanwhile, you buried your face in your hands. “This is ridiculous. You’re all ridiculous.”
But as Giyu’s heartbeat thudded steadily in his chest and the other two trailed close, still arguing under their breath, a small victorious smile tugged at his lips.
The moment they found out that you went on a possible date, though? It was as if the world was ending.
The clang of wood echoed through the training grounds. Obanai and Sanemi moved fast with sharp strikes, parries, and the occasional taunt between gritted teeth. They weren’t really trying to hurt each other, but neither wanted to lose either.
Sanemi smirked between swings. “You’re slowing down, Iguro.”
Obanai’s voice came low through his bandages. “You talk too much.”
Their blades locked—splinters flying through the air—when Giyu’s voice broke through from the edge of the courtyard.
Both men froze mid-motion, glaring over their shoulders.
Sanemi clicked his tongue. “You pickin’ fights now too, Tomioka?”
“No.” Giyu’s tone was flat, calm as ever, which somehow made it worse. “I came to tell you something.”
Obanai lowered his sword slightly. “It better be important.”
Giyu looked between them. “_______ went out.”
Sanemi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she does that. Congratulations, you cracked the code.”
“With another Corps member,” Giyu added.
That did it. Both swords dropped.
“What?” they said together.
Giyu’s gaze didn’t waver. “I heard them talking near the gate earlier. He asked her to dinner.”
Sanemi barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right. Her? On a date? No chance.”
“She did say yes,” Giyu said again, unfazed.
Obanai’s eyes narrowed. “With who?”
“I didn’t catch a name,” Giyu replied. “They mentioned heading toward the market district. I think the teahouse.”
Another silence. You could almost hear the gears turning in both their heads.
Sanemi scoffed. “That’s not happening.”
Obanai crossed his arms. “Agreed.”
Giyu said nothing for a moment, expression unreadable. The breeze shifted, catching the ends of his haori.
Then, quietly, he spoke. “She shouldn’t go.”
Sanemi blinked. “...What?”
“She deserves better,” Giyu said flatly. “Most men in the Corps wouldn’t know how to treat her properly.”
For a second, neither Sanemi nor Obanai said anything, they just stared at him like they’d misheard.
Then Sanemi smirked, eyebrows lifting. “Huh. Look who finally came to his senses.”
Obanai nodded slightly. “Took him long enough.”
Giyu ignored them both. “If we leave now, we can still catch them before anything happens.”
Sanemi’s entire demeanor changed—no more teasing, no more smirking. He grabbed his haori off the fence post and swung it around his shoulders. “Alright then. What’s the plan?”
Obanai adjusted his sleeves, already thinking ahead. “We can’t just storm in. That’ll draw attention.”
“Yeah, and freak her out,” Sanemi added.
Giyu crossed his arms. “Then we don’t go inside.”
Sanemi frowned. “You’re suggesting we... spy?”
There was the smallest pause before Giyu answered, perfectly calm. “Observation.”
Obanai hummed, actually considering it. “We’ll stay far enough not to be seen, but close enough to—”
“—step in if something happens,” Sanemi finished, nodding.
None of them said the word jealousy, but it sat thick in the air.
Obanai glanced between the two. “We’ll need a vantage point.”
Sanemi cracked his knuckles. “I know some spots nearby.”
Giyu sighed, but didn’t argue. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Sanemi echoed, grinning now. “You’re really in this with us?”
“She shouldn’t waste her time,” Giyu said simply, adjusting his uniform. “That’s all.”
“Right,” Obanai muttered. “Purely out of moral obligation.”
Sanemi snorted. “Yeah, sure, ‘moral.’ Let’s move before she decides to fall in love with someone else.”
The three of them started walking, each trying to look like they weren’t in a rush—which only made them look more suspicious.
From the outside, it probably looked like three Hashira headed to handle a mission. But in reality?
They were about to commit the pettiest joint operation in Demon Slayer history.
The market district glowed under rows of paper lanterns, the evening alive with chatter and the clinking of cups. From the roof across the street, three Hashira crouched side by side in the shadows—deadly warriors by trade, and complete disasters by choice.
Sanemi peered over the edge. “There. Corner table by the window. That’s her.”
Obanai leaned closer. “And that’s him?”
“Looks like it,” Sanemi muttered, squinting. “He’s smiling too much.”
Giyu’s eyes narrowed slightly, focused on the scene below. “He’s leaning forward.”
Sanemi’s jaw tightened. “Oh, he’s leaning? Yeah, no. Absolutely not.”
Obanai’s voice was calm, but his grip on the wall tightened. “She’s laughing. He made her laugh.”
Giyu exhaled quietly, almost through his teeth. “She laughs at everything.”
Sanemi side-eyed him. “Not like that she doesn’t.”
“She’s comfortable,” Obanai said, scanning every movement. “Too comfortable.”
“Exactly,” Sanemi agreed. “This guy’s gotta be feeling bold if he— wait. Did he just hand her something?”
Down below, the guy slid a small box across the table. You gasped softly, eyes widening.
From the shadows, three brains immediately short-circuited.
“Oh, hell no,” Sanemi hissed.
Obanai’s eyes widened. “He’s proposing?!”
Giyu’s brows drew together, his voice lower than usual. “That’s fast.”
Sanemi turned to him, incredulous. “Fast?! We didn’t even know they were talking!”
“I told you she shouldn’t have gone,” Giyu said flatly.
Obanai was already halfway to standing. “We’re going down there.”
Sanemi grabbed his arm. “Wait, hold the fuck up—”
“I’m not letting her get roped into some idiot’s idea of romance,” Obanai snapped.
“You think I want that too?!”
“Then what’s your plan, Shinazugawa?”
“Drag him outside, teach him manners, then ask questions!”
Giyu rubbed his temple, patience thinning. “Both of you will cause a scene.”
“So what, we just watch her get proposed to?” Sanemi barked.
Giyu didn’t respond. He just stared down at you—the way you smiled, the soft way you laughed, how your eyes crinkled when he spoke—and something twisted quietly in his chest.
“She looks happy,” he said softly.
That single line made the other two pause.
Sanemi grunted, folding his arms. “Yeah, well… that’s before she says yes to the wrong guy.”
Obanai’s tone was quieter now. “We’re not letting that happen.”
But what they didn’t know was that the man you were with wasn’t just anyone... he was your cousin. He’d invited you to dinner to ask for advice, since he was planning to propose to his girlfriend—something that instantly filled you with excitement, and you couldn’t help but want to be a part of it.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked.
“She’ll love it,” you said, smiling wide. “It’s perfect.”
You didn’t notice a thing.
Halfway through your next sentence, his smile faltered. His eyes flicked toward the window—over your shoulder—and he froze.
“I don’t wanna freak you out but… why are Mr. Shinazugawa, Mr. Iguro, and Mr. Tomioka staring at us from across the street?”
And sure enough, across the narrow road, half-hidden behind a row of paper lanterns, were three very distinct silhouettes.
All crouched awkwardly like they’d been caught doing something illegal.
Your cousin blinked again. “Are they… spying on you?”
“…They better not be,” you muttered, standing up from your seat.
Up on the other side of the street, chaos had already broken out.
“Shit—she looked this way!” Sanemi hissed, ducking behind the wall.
“She definitely saw you,” Obanai said calmly as he ducked lower.
“Me? You’re wrapped in white bandages, you’re not exactly subtle!”
Giyu crouched beside them, expression still maddeningly neutral. “Maybe she didn’t recognize us.”
Sanemi turned on him. “Are you kidding me? Who else looks like us?”
Obanai narrowed his eyes. “Do you think she saw us?”
“I don’t know,” Giyu said.
“You don’t know?” Sanemi whisper-yelled.
There was a pause. A quiet, shared hope that maybe—just maybe—you’d go back to your seat and pretend nothing happened.
Then a shadow fell over them.
“...Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sanemi muttered.
All three froze. Slowly, they turned around.
You stood right behind them. Arms crossed. Eyebrow raised.
The lantern light cast just enough glow for them to see the unimpressed look on your face.
“Oh,” Obanai said after a beat, voice perfectly calm. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Sanemi coughed, straightening his haori like it would somehow help. “We were just… uh… passing by.”
Giyu nodded once. “Coincidence.”
Your cousin, still inside the teahouse, pressed his face against the window, looking utterly confused.
You blinked at the three of them. “You were passing by... crouched behind a wall?”
Sanemi opened his mouth, then shut it. “...Training.”
Obanai jumped in quickly. “We were testing our stealth.”
You tilted your head. “By spying on my dinner?”
Finally, Sanemi sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, fine. We heard you were going on a date.”
Obanai muttered, “Which it clearly looks like.”
Giyu added quietly, “You deserve better.”
You stared at them—three elite demon slayers, completely serious and absolutely ridiculous—before finally speaking.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Sanemi blinked. “...Your what?”
“My cousin. He’s asking for advice about proposing to his girlfriend.”
Obanai cleared his throat. “That’s… admirable of him.”
Sanemi muttered something like, “Well that's different…” before looking away entirely.
You just crossed your arms tighter. “You three are unbelievable.”
Sanemi grinned sheepishly. “In our defense, we were… concerned.”
“Concerned?” you repeated.
Obanai nodded firmly. “For your safety.”
Giyu added, “And judgment.”
You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re all idiots.”
“Yeah,” Sanemi admitted easily. “But we’re idiots who care.”
You couldn’t help it—a laugh slipped out. Small, but enough to make all three look up.
“...You’re still in trouble,” you said, smiling anyway.
They’d take that as a win.
The night air was crisp, still smelling faintly of tea and grilled food from the market. The three of them walked in silence down the dirt path leading back to headquarters—not side by side, but close enough to hear each other’s footsteps.
Obanai walked with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his pace even and deliberate. Sanemi had his arms crossed, jaw tight, kicking at loose stones whenever they crossed his path. Giyu trailed half a step behind, unreadable as ever, his expression calm despite the storm of thoughts clearly brewing behind his eyes.
For a while, none of them spoke. The only sounds were the cicadas and the crunch of gravel beneath their feet.
Finally, Sanemi sighed loudly, the kind of sigh that meant he couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“Well,” he said, kicking a loose pebble down the road, “that could’ve gone better.”
Obanai’s voice was dry. “You mean, the part where we all looked like jealous idiots?”
“Yeah,” Sanemi said. “That one.”
They kept walking. A faint breeze stirred the grass.
They walked a little farther before Giyu finally said what they were all thinking. “You know, we can’t just keep pretending we don’t all feel the same way.”
Sanemi slowed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower now. “Guess that’s obvious by now.”
The air went still for a moment.
Then Sanemi grinned, sharp and confident. “So, I’m making the move.”
Obanai’s head snapped toward him. “You?”
“Yeah, me. I’ve got charm.”
Obanai gave a short laugh. “You have a temper. She’d punch you before you could finish your sentence.”
“Better than you standing in a corner staring at her like some cursed doll.”
Obanai’s voice dropped. “At least I know when to shut up.”
Giyu’s tone cut through the tension, calm but edged. “You’re both assuming she’d even pick either of you.”
They both stopped walking, turning to stare at him.
Sanemi raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
Obanai crossed his arms. “Tomioka, you’re already out.”
“Agreed,” Sanemi added without hesitation. “You’re emotionally invisible. She needs someone who actually talks.”
Obanai nodded. “Someone who doesn’t make every conversation feel like a funeral.”
Giyu blinked slowly, completely unbothered. “You’re both too intense. She likes peace.”
Sanemi barked a laugh. “Peace? She spends half her time yelling at me. She likes excitement.”
“She likes balance,” Giyu said simply.
Obanai tilted his head. “Balance? You mean boredom?”
Giyu looked at him evenly. “No. Stability. Something neither of you understand.”
Sanemi let out a disbelieving scoff. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who barely understands eye contact.”
“You don’t understand boundaries,” Giyu countered.
That shut Sanemi up—for about three seconds—before he muttered, “Okay, but she laughs with me the most.”
Obanai glared at him. “She trusts me the most.”
“She relaxes with me,” Giyu said calmly, which only made it worse.
Now all three were glaring at each other, tension rolling off them in waves—every word quiet but sharp, like a knife behind the ribs.
Obanai sighed, adjusting his bandages. “So that’s it then. A competition.”
Sanemi’s grin returned, cocky and reckless. “Guess so.”
Giyu’s tone stayed level. “It’s not about competition.”
“Yeah,” Sanemi said, smirking, “that’s exactly what the guy who’s losing would say.”
For once, Giyu’s lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smirk. “We’ll see.”
The three of them kept walking, their silhouettes stretching long across the path—three Hashira, one silent pact, and a war that hadn’t even started yet.
please do not copy my works.
