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Specifically, the constant occupation of your time and energy was being monopolized by the other Segments, which was already a hassle, but what’s more, was that you were encouraging it. And that, he could not exactly understand, because from the very first meeting, he had made sure to treat you in the very manner that someone as lovely as you deserved. So many names he had been called: a radical, a madman, insane. Well, he had better things to do than to defend himself against those who could not think for themselves. But in reality, he could be courteous and exceptionally well-mannered if he wanted to.

Eighteen had embarrassingly fumbled his first meeting with you, nearly tripping over his own feet. Twenty-Five had merely observed you from afar, making you a bit nervous with his staring. Forty-Five was almost too friendly and smiley, which confused you. Sixty-Five was mellow and distant, and that made you wonder if you’d done something wrong. But Thirty-Five liked to think he made the perfect impression.

“Hello, [Name].” No pet names (yet), no false pleasantries, cut straight to the point, so you could understand him. “I hope my other selves have not tired you out too much.” 

“Well, all of this is a lot to take in, but no… No, they’ve all been kind to me. And as for you…” Although Thirty-Five was the one wooing you, he tried to ignore the spark of excitement he felt when he saw the glimmer of curiosity in your eyes for the first time.

“Thirty-Five. It is a pleasure to finally make introductions,” he chuckled as you softly smiled. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for far too long.” He then placed his hand out, as if beckoning for yours in return. You had no reason to decline, so you accepted when he delicately pulled your fingers into his.

“May I?”

“Hm? Oh… sure.” You blinked, perplexed for a few moments, before you realized his intentions. Thirty-Five brought your hand closer to his lips, while bending over for you a bit, before placing a kiss. It was brief and fleeting on purpose; even the tingle on your skin where his lips pressed against was hardly noticeable. Perhaps, going off the smile on your face, you would be intrigued enough to find out more. 

So very obviously, he should have at least gotten into your good books with that.

Should have.

Alright, fine, he did, actually. But not to the extent he thought he would. The problem was that your attention was divided (as equally as you could) between his other selves, which he was not very fond of.

For some reason, you enjoyed being around Eighteen’s snappy and blundering self, despite Thirty-Five being far more of a gentleman to you. Twenty-Five was quieter and more reserved, and he could not entertain you as well as Thirty-Five could; but he could still hear your laughter down from the lab anyway. He didn’t understand why you had so much fun with Forty-Five, the man who did nothing but giggle and chat with you about frivolous things and spend too much time with the youngest Segment. 

Sixty-Five was more of a mystery; he didn’t know what you could have in common with that old man. That also applied to the original Zandik, frail and nearing the end of his life, and yet you insisted on spending the most time with a man who’d depart from this world soon. And of course, that wasn’t including how you cooed and spoiled the eight-year-old Segment as well.

All in all, he was competing, with quite literally himself, over you, more than he anticipated. It was immature, it was embarrassing - it was like children fighting over a piece of the sweetest candy. Normally he would never partake in such a thing, but…

The thirty-five-year-old found himself unwilling to relinquish that taste to anyone else. And so began his experiment into the matter of your mind and heart.

—

Unfortunately, the experiment meant swallowing his pride a bit, because it meant observing what about the other Segments made you so happy. The fact he was stooping to this level because of you… lurking in the shadows to listen to conversations he was sure were trivial.

Regardless, the first subject of observation was Eighteen. He could provide the most interesting data, perhaps, considering the rest of them had to look the other way whenever the younger one said something idiotic to you. Even Eight found it effective to randomly bring it up to embarrass the older Segment during arguments.

“Say, aren’t you older than all of us, technically?” Eighteen thought aloud. Although your body remained youthful after many decades while you slept, your real age was close to that of the original. “So you’re in your seventies then,” he mused, “just like-” Before the Segment could finish his words, he was interrupted by your laughter.

“Are you just now realizing this, Eighteen? I hope you don’t go around calling me old and boring as you do with the others.” His face flared with heat as even he realized the implications of his previous words.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. You’re not old. Not in the typical sense, at least. I meant it in a literal way, not-” But it didn’t matter. No matter what the Segment said, he couldn’t come back from this, especially not when you were giggling in his face as he scrambled for a response to assuage your feelings (although you weren’t offended in the first place). Eighteen’s face was still flushed by the time he departed to do his own work, and you let out a content sigh as you watched his figure fade, before turning your attention elsewhere.

“Thirty-Five, have you also come to ask me my age?” You spoke to the seemingly empty area before the Segment revealed himself, a smile on his face and his hands up in playful surrender.

“You noticed me. Was I sloppy, or are you more attentive than I thought?” Thirty-Five made his way up to you, stopping just close enough to test the border of your personal space. 

“This was peeking out.” You blinked at him before reaching out, fingers grazing the large, black fluff on his outfit, and the scholar let out a noise of understanding.

“Regardless, as for your first question. I would never ask something as rude as that, especially not to you.” Upon closer look, was the Segment pouting at the sheer thought? It was rather adorable.

“Why, isn’t that kind of you? I appreciate your gracefulness.” You couldn’t help but let out a sound of amusement at his politeness. “However… I really doubt you’d be listening in on our conversation if you weren’t trying to figure something out. I was waiting for you to get bored and interrupt us right away.” Your deduction was spot on, and he was impressed enough to not care about being busted, not that he would have, anyway. “So, what is it that you’re looking for?”

“Well done. I expected nothing less from you,” Thirty-Five praised. “To answer your question… I suppose it’ll be easier if I’m truthful, considering you’ve connected some of the dots. To put it shortly, I’m conducting an experiment.”

“And I’m your test subject?”

“You are the center of it, yes. And the others can be considered variables, if we’re going by those terms.”

“And your goal is to…?”

“To observe what it is about them that has you so enamored. Allow me to speak freely.” His heels clicked against the floor as he slowly paced around. “I’ve been around the others far longer than you have. Quite frankly, they are not the sort I’d seek out if I desired company. And yet, you call out to them of your own volition, perhaps more than you do with… me.” The last part sounded slightly strained, and a bit of sadness washed over you as you were starting to piece together things. “So, I’ve decided to observe how you managed to be so endeared by them.”

“And what have you managed to observe this time?” You moved closer to him, and he focused his attention on you again. 

“So, Eighteen saying foolish things is what amuses you?” You sighed and shook your head before you reached to cup his cheek.

“No, not foolish things. It’s him being unafraid to speak his mind around me, no matter what it is. It’s him being comfortable enough to do so as well. And the other Segments are similar, in that regard.” Thirty-Five didn’t respond, as if he was processing your answer. 

“But what are you, Thirty-Five? I won’t lie. I have heard some things about you from the others… Not so flattering things, to be honest.” Your finger twirled around his long lock of hair. “And yet, I haven’t particularly seen that side of you. You ask me to come to you, and yet, you do not show me what you really are. You act so bold around me, and yet you hide. You do what you think will please me the most. But that’s not what I want.”

“It’s a shame,” you sighed, and you truly sounded upset. One moment, you were smiling at him, and the next you had such a forlorn expression on your face, because of him no less. He did not mean for that to happen.  “Because I’m very much sure anything you do will impress me. No matter how many of those traits have been denounced by others. Someone as intelligent as you must understand what I’m saying, right, Thirty-Five? So let this experiment come to an end.”

At his core, he may be selfish, but you saw that. His radicalism and insaneness - how could you cast that part of him aside when, in reality, they were partially born from you? His desire to create a new world, a world where you were not tortured by fate and your illness, was that not out of love for you? His methods were cruel, but was it not from the delicate emotion called love that set him into motion? Could you ever truly fault or hate him for that?

Thirty-Five’s jaw worked, having been silent the whole time during your little dialogue. You gazed at him, not looking for an answer, but for understanding.

“I see.” That was all he said before he reached for your hand, caressing his face, and pressed a kiss to it, similar to the first one he ever gave you. Except this time, it did not carry any ulterior motives or sly plans. It was simply tender and fleeting, before he withdrew, as if he needed time to ponder.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Thirty-Five.” You called from behind him as he walked away.

Well, this was not the expected outcome, but a better one anyway.

—

“Watch your step.” The thirty-five-year-old firmly held your hand, the other holding a basket of sweets and warm tea, as he guided you around the snowy terrain. “Snezhnaya isn’t exactly ideal for picnics.”

“And yet, clearly you searched around to find a suitable spot. Is this why you asked me to prepare some baklava?” At one point, you stopped caring about the embarrassment of the Segment having to steady you every time you nearly slipped.

“You’re the only person who can make it how I like it,” Thirty-Five stated simply. Even though he and the others sometimes visited the cafeteria, the food served there was not like the cuisine of the homeland he was exiled from. 

“I’m honored.” You couldn’t help but smile at his openness. “Snezhnaya is quite different from Sumeru, isn’t it?” 

“Do you like it?”

“The snow is pretty,” you offered, though it didn’t exactly answer his question. “Do you?”

Thirty-Five would not admit he preferred seeing the gentle sun of Sumeru tickle your face. Or that he’d much rather trek through the soft grass of the forest with the branches of huge trees providing shade, and then hoist you up one of them so you could sit at the very top and look at the view. He would not say that he would like to pet a Sumpter Beast or Tent Tortoise with you instead of constantly rewinding the memory of the original and you doing so. He had been chased out of his homeland and to another one where he was still not accepted. In a way, you were the link to the few fond memories of his younger days. Regardless, all he said was:

“It serves its purpose,” the Segment shrugged. You only squeezed his hand in response.

At first, you were surprised that Thirty-Five would do such a thing. Did a man such as himself really scope out the area to find a safe yet pretty spot for a date? Did he really grow some Padisarahs here, despite their demanding conditions for growth, and wrap them with a bow to present to you?

And yet, maybe it wasn’t so out of character. Because in the end, the Segment was more human than he’d admit. He could only yearn for acceptance, for your love and attention from the only person who could give it.

“We’re here,” Thirty-Five announced. You two had made it to a cliff, freezing water flowing and wildlife playing from far below. The snow was not as harsh, and the warmth of Kresnik’s Torch could be felt. The sky, usually gray and heavy, revealed a bit of color as the clouds parted.

“It’s lovely.” You approved, and the Harbinger was already setting down the blanket and pushing the thermos to your lips so you could warm up. You drank up while he carefully plated everything for the two of you, nudging you aside if you tried to do anything. It was only on his signal that he let you sit down and get comfy. “Thank you, Thirty-Five.”

“I should thank you instead.” When Thirty-Five bit into the baklava, he let out a sort of sigh you never heard him do before. It was as if something washed over him, from the way his shoulders loosened, and he gazed at the scenery as if he was seeing lush green instead of icy white. You were the only person who could provide him this sort of solace.

You peered at him for a few moments before moving closer, until your hand rested on his free one. He turned to look at you now, only for you to brush off some crumbs on his face, a cute reminder that his guard was down. The scholar watched you carefully, savoring the warmth of your close body even more than the treat, until you leaned in closer and finally pressed your lips against his own for the first time.

Thirty-Five nearly forgot that the purpose of this trip was to have a picnic, with the way he buried himself into your neck and dug his fingers into your softness.

—

Thirty-Five had made a great amount of progress in his relationship with you. Not that he expected anything less, despite the hiccups here and there, but it was still satisfactory that you had reciprocated his advances to a rather high degree. The grumblings of his other selves had become background noise, now that he had you in his grasp, and you, of course, had no problem with that.

Love. It was a fascinating thing. Was it selfless or selfish? Or was it both?

The Segment cared for you above all else, even more than himself at times. He tended to you in a way that was only afforded to you; he ensured your wellbeing and happiness even if it was at the expense of himself. It was only you that could have taught Thirty-Five such a thing. And yet, he was more than aware that these feelings had planted something deeper within him. It was the urge to keep your loveliness for himself. It was quite curious.

Regardless, it was not something that needed pondering at this very moment. It was something that he should let run its course. Answers are not found immediately, and perhaps it was the process that was more important. Especially not when he was intent on finding you, considering that he would prefer spending his free time with you rather than being pulled into the bickering of his other selves. 

Though it was taking a bit more time than usual, seeing as you weren’t in your usual spots, Thirty-Five finally could hear a soft voice flowing from inside one of the rooms nearby. The Segment smiled, immediately straightening his shoulders at the thought of you. He quickened his pace until he could properly make out your words, and paused to listen.

“I love you most, Zandik. No one else can replace you. How is this fair?” The Segment heard your cries of love and mourning to the original from behind the door. “So please… don’t go… I need you…”

Thirty-Five’s lips, usually donning a smile, had turned downward at the sight of you and the original Zandik together. From the small crack in the door, he could see you grasp Zandik’s wrinkled hand in yours, face buried in the crook of his neck. The Segment could not make out what the original replied, but it seemed to make you more emotional, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

As much as the scene made something ugly coil in Thirty-Five’s chest, a part of him couldn’t look away. He could not look away from what he wanted. Your whole-hearted acceptance, to be someone’s first choice.

Why? Was he not enough for you? Truly, what did the main possess that he did not? What could the original do that he could not do infinitely better? Why would you not choose him instead? Was he also not irreplaceable? Certainly none of the others could ever fill his shoes. Could he not be your ‘Zandik,’ if you wished it? The flurry of questions in his brain started to clash with his rationality. His fingers stiffened before he flexed them in and out and turned on his heel, away from you and Zandik.

Well, you could spend as much time as you wanted with that old fool. He wouldn’t be around for much longer, anyway.

that is, until he met you. well, he was still as bad at flirting as always, and as unwilling to try it, but he regretted not having tried to date more. because now he has you, this beautiful woman, that loves him in a way he thinks he's never been loved before, and he doesn't know what to do.

of course he's not stupid. he knows how you're supposed treat a woman, especially one like you. but he couldn't give you everything tou deserved. it's not that he didn't want to, he did, so much, he simply wasn't capable of it.

he doesn't think he could've been, even in his prime. when he was younger and healthy and, well, he might even say nice looking. at least he thought if he had been able to keep his quirk, keep working, he'd be a better match for you. he could at least be a hero for you. not for anyone else, no.

now he just teaches. he doesn't do what he once did. he doesn't look like he once did, nor does he feel like it. he's stuck with this body in this state of mind and he can't escape it. he can't make himself do better, not even for you. and that's driving him crazy.

"hey, what are you doing up so late, hm?" he hears your soft voice behind him, and snaps out of his thoughts for a second.

he looks up to the screen of his laptop. 2:02. he sighs.

"did i wake you?" he asks lowly, bringing one hand over yours where it rests on his shoulder.

"no. don't worry. i got up for a glass of water." you mutter lazily and lean over his back, trying to see what he was doing on the laptop. you already knew, but you still check. "still working, love? you should come to bed with me."

"i know. just gotta finish this." shota's voice is as unemotional as ever, but you're a bit bothered by it. something sounds off. maybe it's just your brain, coated in a sleep haze. but maybe it's not so you squeeze his shoulder. "really."

"oh, really?" you scoff a bit and roll your eyes. it's never just one thingt with him, and you know that.

though he's not even looking at you, he knows you're rolling your eyes. he knows he's annoying you, because you hate falling asleep with him beside you, and waking up to an empty bed. even more if it's in the middle of the night. he feels bad, he truly does, and he feels like it's one of the things that he should've known. he should've finished work earlier, so he could now just be beside the beautiful woman that he loves, in bed.

but it's not that simple. he's not that simple.

your hand stretches out from behind him and reaches to close the laptop. he holds your wrist and tries to look at you, but he can't see your face too well in the poorly lit living room.

"finish this, tomorrow, shota. it's too late." your voice is stern enough that it makes him let go of you.

"i need to do this now."

"no, you don't. you can do it in the morning."

he sighs and closes his eye. he knows where this is going. and it's impossible that his mind doesn't sneak once again to that place.

he's not a good boyfriend. he should be doing what you're telling him, cause you're right. he can do that in the morning. he doesn't have to be here right now with the bright light of the laptop screen burning his good eye. but he is. he can't sleep, and he can't do anything else, so he just does this.

you close the laptop and you two stand in the dark for a few seconds. your hand slides back to his shoulder, and this time you pull him back on his chair. "bed, shota."

he shivers. cause your voice is so soft, and so loving, and so caring. he doesn't want to say no to that. but he can't say yes. you'll fall asleep in a second and he'll be stuck thinking all kinds of (horrible) things beside you all night.

he turns around on the rolling chair easily and stares at you, though it's dark and he can barely see your face. he can see your eyes. the soft glow the moon casts on your skin through the open window.

"i'm not really tired." he mutters tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair as a distraction.

you trace the bags under his eyes, dark and deep, though you they don't mean much. he always has them, even after a night of sleep. he's not wearing his eye patch, which is rare these days, even at home. you don't linger too much on his left side, knowing he doesn't like being reminded of what's not there anymore.

"i don't care. just want you beside me." you shrug with a small playful smile before bending down to look into his eye. he doesn't like that. he tenses up and stares at you the same way he does when he scolds a student. "don't give me this."

"i'm not giving you anything, really." he mutters and you feel like he means that in some other way. you want to press, but you've been with shota long enough to know that pushing him never works.

so, instead, you sigh deeply and sit on his lap. he adjusts quickly to the new comforting weight on his legs, and his cold, always cold, hands sneak under your over sized shirt and rest against your skin. your calf touches te freezing metal of his prosthetic leg. you shiver, but you don't complain.

"you're right. you're not giving me much. i don't like it when you're playing the 'one sentence guy' part." you raise your brows and wrap one arm around his neck, body melting against his.

"i don't have much to say." he replies after a couple silent moments. not because he wants to, he doesn't. but he feels like he should. like you're expecting something from him. and he never wants to leave you hanging, though he feels like he already is. "i'm just tired."

"you always are. but you're not always like this." you shrug and rest your head against his. he squeezes your waist.

"i guess."

and then you two are silent again. he hates it, cause it gives him time to think. and he doesn't want to think, he wants to be something different. he wants to shut his brain up. he can't help but remember that once he would've picked you up and taken you to bed with him. and he no longer could. how he once knew he could protect you from almost anything. and how he now can't. he can't do anything these days.

"you know i love you, right?" you say after a while and he tenses even more at that. you feel him nodding against you, but he doesn't say anything. "i love you."

"i know." his voice comes much later and so low you barely hear it. he wants to say it back. but his throat feels like it's closing up on itself, and he doesn't want to risk it.

"so why are you acting like you don't?"

this time he furrows his brows and shifts underneath you. "i'm sorry."

"so, you know what i'm talking about?" you lean back to get a better look on his face, and he stares back at you.

"i could guess." he shrugs. you nod and squeeze his shoulder, waiting for an elaboration, he knows. "i'm-" he starts and stops, taking a deep breath and looking away from you. he's usually very straightforward, but this is wearing him down. he feels like he's stripped bare and you're analyzing every inch of his useless limp body.

"i'm old. and i'm tired. i feel like i can't keep up with you, sometimes. i can't give you what you want." he doesn't look at you when he says it, because he knows the face you're gonna look at him with.

"and what do i want?" you answer so quickly he barely has time to suppress his shock. "how do you know what i want? you didn't ask."

"some things don't have to be said." he shrugs as if it's obvious. as if it's clear that whatever he gives you is not what you want. not what you need. "i'm not like i used to be."

"yeah, that's right, you're not." you narrow your eyes at him and don't look away. you need him to get you. "but why is that a bad thing?"

he scoffs almost immediately and rolls his eye. he misses when he could do it with both. he feels like it would make more of an effect right now. "oh, is it a good one, then? that i'm old and with one less leg and eye? that an upgrade?"

"would you stop saying it like that, shota?" you complain lowly before closing your eyes. his hands are still squeezing your waist and it feels like he's holding onto you. like he's trying not to be taken away.

"but it's true."

"it happened, it doesn't mean you're less of a person, though." you scoff a little annoyed now. because it seems like he really wants to argue. he looks at you with his jaw tight, his open eye staring at you intently. "i don't feel any differently about you now than i did before."

"i do." he simply says, refusing to look away from you until you got it. until you read his mind so he wouldn't have to say it out loud.

"shota..." you mutter and close your eyes, leaning your face forward until your forehead meets his. you can't see, but you feel the soft breath he lets out against your lips.

"i don't want to be the one that holds you back." he mutters so lowly you barely even hear it. it's like he doesn't really want you to. you keep your eyes closed, you know he'll feel better if you aren't looking. you brush your noses together softly and hear him let out a low groan.

"you're not. i'm exactly where i want to be." you lean in to leave a soft kiss against his lips. he lets it linger and takes in a sharp breath. his whole body relaxes against you, and you feel so good knowing you can still do that to him.

"are you? really?" he scoffs, but his voice sounds much less tense now. your hand slides up his neck and to his chin, feeling the stubble growing there. "do you want to be up at two in the morning calming down your boyfriend as if he's a toddler in distress?"

you roll your eyes before opening them, and give him a small smile. he doesn't smile back, but you know he wants to. "yeah, that's right where i wanna be. anywhere you are is where i wanna be."

"sounds unlikely."

"i don't care what you think. it doesn't matter. i've changed, too. do i bring you down?" you ask, scratching his chin softly. you can swear you hear him purr like a cat.

"you try sometimes." he shrugs and gives you a small lopsided grin, and you can't help but smile back.

"oh, so funny." you mutter, biting your lower lip. your eyes are so full of love he can practically see it coming in waves off of you. "if i ever think you're bringing me down, considering i don't wanna be brought down by you, i'll just break up with you. ok?"

"reassuring." he nods softly, but he likes hearing you say that. you always know what to tell him. and though that makes him feel a bit bad now, because he doesn't always know what to tell you, at least it seems like you don't mind.

"it's supposed to be." you smile and lean in again to kiss his soft lips. you make sure it lasts longer now. you let your mouth open slightly and you feel his tongue against yours, warm, wet and soft. you melt against each other, while his hands climb up your back, making you arch forward.

"i know you love me. you let me do this." he mutters against your lips when you stop kissing for just a second and you can't help but laugh lowly.

"yeah, and you love me too, right?" you ask, biting his lip playfully. you know this doesn't solve all of his problems. you know it's not a permanent answer and you know that what he's feeling tonight has been there for long, and it won't just disappear. but, for now, you two can kiss softly and enjoy the moment. because you love each other and sometimes that's enough.

"always will." he says before kissing you again.

She likes to invite you to many hangouts when she's free-- although, since she's a hashira it's rare but common.

Speaking of hangouts, Mitsuris' favorite kinds, no surprise, are anything related to getting food. She loves to eat, it's her love language. Whenever you guys get some food, she usually hopes that she can share some with you but sometimes forgets before she's bought another few plates of the same or different dish.

She likes to grab your interest with little things. Talking about how pretty the flowers are alongside the road, or something like that.

Mitsuri is very clumsy, but not a idiotic type where she'd trip over air or run into a wall easily. It's more or less a 'realizing her mistake last minute' type. She'll confidently say or do something believing she's done the correct action before her face get warm from realizing her mistake.

Mitsuri: "(Y/N), (Y/N)! I heard you liked flowers, so I bought you these!"

(Y/N): "Thank you, Kanroji-san, but for what occasion?"

Mitsuri: "What do you mean? It's your birthday, silly!"

(Y/N): "..my birthday is next week."

Mitsuri: "oh"

Mitsuri often found herself thinking and worrying about your well being. She honestly tried to convince herself that it was totally platonic and nothing was going on between you both, but the more she thought about it the more she realized she wanted to live with you.

Her confession was very stuttery and messy. It was clear that she was struggling with her emotions for some time, beforehand.

Actually, Mitsuri had to back out of the confession a few times. She tried to do it casually while at lunch together, than again when you guys had breakfast at her estate, than one last time when she rescued/helped you.

It was difficult for her to get the words out because usually she was put in the position of being match made with someone, not allowing herself to have the decision to choose.

Her confession is very quick and like a zigzag, moving between the lines of 'i want to be yours' and 'maybe this is all in my head and we're actually just friends after all.' She's very nervous about what your thoughts are, making her very fast to back out if she notices the smallest uncomfortable look on your face or voice. Although she'll break down into tears when you admit you've been feeling the same way.

Dating Stage

If you're in the demon slayer corp: She is so very attached to you-- hoping that the both of you guys would be paired for commissions to hunt down the demons. Whenever you guys aren't she often worries and sends many letters your way.. even if it's only for a day or two.

Mitsuri is actually very assertive and protective when someone's emotions or life is on the line. Who many people believed to just be a 'ditzy airhead' will put herself in front of you if it means she's protecting you.

To add on, whenever you're sad and upset, she gets very sad too. She's an empath-- she'll feel all the emotions you're feeling which is how she understands you're situation a little better. It begins with her talking to you and telling you how good a person you truly are: beautiful, caring, strong-willed and so much more than what people think. Than it turns into her trying to distract you with a activity.

Mitsuri: "please don't cry.. I think you're pretty on bad days and good ones, equally.."

(Y/N): "..but.."

Mitsuri: "No, no, no.. It doesn't matter what they said about you. It's not true. I see you for who you are, and you're so much more than what they think."

(Y/N): "..really?"

Mitsuri: "Yeah! If it'll make you feel better, we can go talk a walk or have a picnic to get your mind off things.."

She gets so excited to see you. Even if you guys were apart for only an hour.

Mitsuri has so many dreams and ambitions, always sharing what's on her mind with you. Of course, one of those dreams is to have a traditional Japanese wedding where you'd both be beside one another.

She likes to play with your hair AND when you play with hers, she melts. Imaginably, if you had longer hair she tends to braid it.

She still gets nervous about certain topics of intimacy. Sleeping in the same bed, cuddling and holding each other. Her face will be incredibly warm and her body sweaty. It'll take her awhile to find a position of sleep that doesn't make it awkward but also let's her snuggle up against you.

The letters she sends are constant, always making sure you don't worry about her absence as a hashira. That being said, Mitsuri gets impatient when she doesn't receive letters back... After only an hour of sending her own. She'll try really hard to distract herself from it, but the worry builds up so much!

REQUEST: "Could we get some Mitsuri Kanroji headcanons please. SFW is cool."