Jackie

𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Circuit Hearts: android au

The warmest machine ✿ Rengoku Kyojurō

A Heart Without a Heartbeat ✿ Tomioka Giyū

A place to hide ✿ Iguro Obanai

𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫

•————•°•ʜᴀꜱʜɪʀᴀ•°•————•

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮

When the rumors were right

You´re in a secret relationship with the water Hashira +18

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢

You read something you weren't supposed to ¹

You read something you weren't supposed to ²

𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢

He never learn to say no to you

His way of caring

𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨

He forgets he can be taken care of

𝐇𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐆𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢

The Hashira who doesn't blush

𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧

You are the only voice he listents to

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

The Hashira when they go on a dangerous mission

The Hashira giving you your first kiss

The Hashira when you fall asleep on their shoulder

The Hashira when you confess by accident

The Hashira when you have a praise kink +18

•———•°•ᴜᴘᴘᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱ•°•———•

𝐔𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐓𝐰𝐨, 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐦𝐚

He learns how love works

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Tomioka Giyū

You're on your knees before him, with trembling hands resting on his firm thighs, trying to catch your breath in ragged gasps as you feel the stiffness of his erection pulsing against your palm through the fabric.

Giyū watches you from his height, motionless as stone, but his eyes burn with intensity, a flame dancing in the depths of his blue gaze as you slide your hands toward the waistband of his pants, seeking the hot skin you know awaits you.

The silence between you stretches like a taut thread, charged with sexual tension, until Giyū finally breaks the spell with his deep voice when your fingers finally wrap around him, feeling the hard, hot cock throbbing against your skin.

"You're doing well," he murmurs, caressing your cheek with his thumb, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

You begin to move your hand in slow back-and-forth motions that make his breathing hitch. You bite your lower lip hard, feeling the skin give way between your teeth, because it's not enough, it's never enough when it comes to him, when you long for that armor to break.

"Just… just well?" you say with your voice thick with need that embarrasses you to acknowledge, but that you can't deny as you slide your tongue over the sensitive head peeking out from his pants.

Giyū blinks once, slowly, confused for a second as if not understanding the magnitude of your hunger, and then something changes in his expression when you take his entire member in your mouth, letting your tongue draw circles around the swollen glans.

"Very well," Giyū corrects as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up and trapping you in his gaze. "You're being perfect."

A sudden wave of heat washes over you, knocking the breath from your lungs in a long moan. Giyū frowns slightly confused, then seems to realize what your reaction is due to and his expression changes to something sweeter.

"That's it," he whispers, and his cheeks are pinker than usual. "Just like that."

When you change positions and you move over him with that shyness that gradually dissolves into the confidence of his approval, his hands rest on your hips with a controlled force that guides you without dominating you, finding a rhythm that draws you together as you feel his hard, hot cock sliding deep inside you.

"Giyū," you moan, and your voice sounds strange to your own ears, laden with a need that consumes you as he penetrates you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Please…"

"I'm here," Giyū's warm breath brushes against your face as he digs his heels into the futon, moving his hips faster against yours. "You're driving me crazy."

"I'm close, please…" you plead, feeling the heat building in your belly.

"Go ahead," he murmurs against your neck, his hands roaming your back with adoration. "You're good, so good to me."

And when you finally come, Giyū holds you, whispering over and over how much he loves you.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi has you against the wall, with his hips pounding against yours with a brutal force that makes your thoughts scatter as you feel his cock sliding deep inside you, filling you completely with each thrust.

He's sweating profusely, with white hair stuck to his forehead and violet eyes shining with a wild intensity as his hands hold your legs open to allow him deeper.

"What? Do you want me to say nice things to you?" His voice is mocking, but there's a tremor in it as his hips move against yours with constant force, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Pff. You're fine, I guess. You're not bad."

"Sanemi," you moan, and there's a hint of pleading in your voice that makes his eyes darken as Sanemi penetrates you again and again, feeling how your body adjusts to his strength.

"What?" he gets defensive, but can't maintain eye contact as his thrusts become deeper and more urgent. "Do you expect me to call you 'princess' or something? To talk to you as if you were made of porcelain?"

"Please," you plead, and your hands roam his bare chest, his tense shoulders, his damp hair, seeking the connection you know exists beneath his hostile attitude as you feel the pressure building in your belly.

Sanemi stays still, buried deep inside you to the root, and for a moment he seems at war with himself. Then, with a frustrated grunt that sounds like surrender, Sanemi grabs your face with both hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes as his cheeks turn an intense red.

"You're… you're fine," he murmurs, and his voice trembles with the force of contained emotion as his hips keep moving on their own, seeking more friction. "Damn it, you're more than fine. You're… hot, and when you move like this… when you ask for more… fuck."

It's probably the biggest compliment Sanemi could give as his fingers slide between your bodies to rub your clit matching the urgency of his thrusts.

His hand grabs your hip hard, you're sure it will leave a bruise, but the idea of having marks made by Sanemi on your body makes your pussy wet.

"Like this?" you ask, repeating the movement.

"Fuck, yes," Sanemi growls, kissing you hard, as his thrusts become unrestrained, losing rhythm. "Good girl."

That phrase alone, those two words make you explode, and Sanemi follows, screaming your name against your neck as he spills inside you with force.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Rengoku Kyojurō

Kyojurō has you against the futon, with his hips hitting yours with a rhythmic force that makes the wood creak beneath you and you feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy with delicious friction.

He's smiling, as he always does, but now there's something more in his golden eyes, something that devours you with a voracious hunger as his hands hold your legs, feeling how he fills you completely to the bottom.

"You're taking me so well! You're incredible!" Kyojurō's voice is full of energy as his hips move forcefully, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge as you feel the base of his member rubbing against your clit with each movement.

You cover your face with your hands, blushing to the tips of your toes, at the intensity of his praises, but Kyojurō grabs your wrists and pulls them away.

"Don't hide!" he exclaims, kissing your palm. "I want to see how you look when I tell you the truth."

"Kyojurō," you sob, writhing beneath him, needing more, always more of his fire as you feel the pressure building in your belly with each thrust of his hips against yours.

"Tell me," he replies, stopping for a moment just when you were on the edge, making you moan in frustration as you feel his erection pulsing deep inside you, demanding attention. "What do you need?"

"T-Talking… like that…" you whisper, ashamed. "Please…"

His eyes shine with understanding, and the adoration with which he looks at you is so sincere that you feel overwhelmed by his love for you.

"Oh, my little flame!" he exclaims, and begins to move again, stronger and deeper. "You're a goddess! What a splendid sight!"

"More, Kyojurō!" you demand, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

"More?" Kyojurō gasps, watching you come undone beneath him. "Do you want more?"

"Yes, please, yes!" you plead, grabbing his shoulders, leaving little marks.

"My beautiful girl!" he says, kissing your neck, your collarbone and your lips as his hands slide between your bodies to rub that sensitive spot that drives you crazy. "I love how you receive me, how you ask for more, you're made for me."

And when you both reach the limit, Kyojurō keeps whispering "my beautiful girl, my beautiful girl" against your neck, kissing every inch of your skin,as you come apart beneath his endless praise.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Himejima Gyomei

Gyomei has you sitting on his lap, and the size difference is overwhelming as you feel his cock sliding deep inside your pussy, filling you completely until you feel there's no room for anything but him.

He is a mountain of muscles and immense tenderness, and you feel small, wrapped in his arms as he guides you over him with slow and reverent movements that make every inch of his member rub against your inner walls.

"Oh," he sighs, with that deep voice that vibrates in your chest. "Oh, blessed be you."

He look upward, "seeing" you in a way that makes you feel exposed and adored at the same time as your hips move against his in a rhythm that Gyomei controls with his enormous hands on your waist.

His enormous hands caress you carefully as your body adjusts to his size.

"Gyomei," you moan softly, moving over him with shyness.

"Yes, little one?" His voice is soft, like his hands that caress your back to encourage you to keep talking.

"Am I… am I doing it well?" you try to hide the needy tone of your voice, but you fail.

Gyomei grabs your face with both hands with such delicacy that they could be butterfly wings.

"You're being perfect," he murmurs, kissing your forehead. "Your skin is soft as silk and the sound of your breathing is a sacred prayer to me."

When you move again, he groans low and deep as you begin to move with more confidence, feeling how each rise and fall pulls you deeper into pleasure.

"Yes… like that. You're… you're being good. So good to me, so generous."

"Really?" your voice breaks, emotional, as your movements become faster, seeking more friction, more of that feeling of fullness that only he can give you.

"Oh, little one," Gyomei whispers, hugging you tightly against his enormous chest. "You're a gift from heaven."

And when you finally come with a scream that seems to tear your soul from you, he holds you tightly, whispering words that sound like blessings as Gyomei also spills inside you with a deep groan.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Iguro Obanai

Obanai is behind you as he penetrates you deeply from behind, grabbing your nape possessively as his hips pound against yours with a force that makes your legs tremble.

You can feel his accelerated breathing against your ear, the heat of his breath mixing with yours as you feel his cock sliding in and out of your pussy.

"You're doing acceptably well," Obanai hisses near your ear as one of his hands slides down your belly to find your clit, rubbing it in circles.

"Acceptably?" you repeat, blushing to the roots of your hair, feeling that you need more as your walls tighten around him instinctively.

Obanai stops completely, the sudden silence deafening, and he turns your face to make you look at him over your shoulder. His heterochromatic eyes shine with something dark and intense.

"Do you want more?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Do you need me to tell you how well you take everything I give you? How perfect you are for me, tight around my cock as if you had been made just for me?"

"Please," you whisper, and your voice trembles with the force of your need.

"Good," Obanai murmurs, and it's almost a growl as he begins to move again, harder, deeper, each thrust taking you beyond what you thought possible. "Very good, you know how to ask for what you need. I like that."

Obanai's praises are scarce but each one lands like an arrow as his fingers continue working between your legs, matching the rhythm of his hips.

"That's it. Take it all. You're… you're perfect, more than perfect."

"Obanai," you sob, arching toward him, seeking more contact as you feel the orgasm approaching like an unstoppable wave.

"Yes?" His grip on your neck intensifies, possessive, protective. "Do you want to hear it again? Do you need me to remind you while you come?"

When you come around Obanai with a choked scream, feeling how your walls contract rhythmically in waves that sweep you away, his other hand grabs your hip with desperate force, his hips moving with urgency as he also comes.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Uzui Tengen

"Splendid, absolutely splendid."

Tengen has you against the mirror in his room, watching your reflection with that arrogant smile you hate as he penetrates you from behind, feeling his cock slide inside your pussy with a calculated slowness that drives you crazy.

You can see it all in the glass, every detail exposed: how your breasts move with each thrust, how your cheeks are flushed, how your lips are parted asking for more as he takes you.

"Look at yourself," he orders, grabbing your chin so you don't look away from the mirror, so you see how he takes you completely, to the base, feeling how your body stretches to accommodate him. "Look how good you look with my cock buried to the hilt. You're a spectacle, darling."

"Tengen," you moan, closing your eyes for a second, overwhelmed.

"Ah, ah," He gives you a soft slap on the hip. "Eyes open. I want you to see what I see and know how splendid you are."

Tengen's praises are theatrical, overflowing with enthusiasm and he repeats them as if he wanted to make that moment worthy of being remembered forever. However, his flamboyant personality contrasts as he penetrates you with the precision that only a shinobi could have, each movement calculated to brush against your most sensitive point, to make you feel every inch of his cock.

"Do you like it?" Tengen asks, moving slower on purpose, torturing you with just the right friction to keep you on the edge without letting you fall, feeling how your body instinctively tightens around him. "Do you like it when I tell you how perfect you are?"

"Please," you plead, moving your hips to seek more friction, more of everything he can give you. "Don't stop talking…"

"You want more praises, my spectacle?" his voice is low, hoarse, losing some of its theatricality. "Do you need me to tell you how well you're doing? How well you receive me, tight around me like a perfect glove."

"Yes!" you exclaim, without shame now, only desperation. "Please, tell me…"

Tengen turns you abruptly to look at him directly, and his eyes shine with genuine fascination as he penetrates you face to face, lifting you up against the mirror so your legs wrap around his waist.

He kisses you deeply, devouring you with a passion that consumes you completely as his hips move forcefully, hitting deeply again and again.

"You're unique," he murmurs against your lips. "My muse, my favorite spectacle, and when you come for me… it's the most splendid moment of my life."

And when you come, screaming his name, Tengen smiles triumphantly: "That's it! My splendid girl!"

You've spent years admiring the Hashira, and that's exactly why you decide to join the Demon Slayer Corps.

Like every other Demon Slayer, you grew up hearing stories about them. They're the strongest swordsmen in the Corps, and it's impossible not to want to impress them at least once. A simple "well done" from any one of them would be enough to make you feel like all the training, the injuries, and the effort have been worth it.

And out of all of them, the one you want to impress the most is Iguro Obanai.

The first time you're assigned to a mission alongside him, you come back with a cut on your arm and a satisfied smile on your face after taking down a demon on your own. While the Kakushi gather the remains, you can't help stealing glances at the Serpent Hashira. A childish part of you hopes to hear some kind of acknowledgment.

"You took too long to kill it," Obanai says, looking away from you as though he hasn't said anything important before adding, motioning toward the ground with a slight tilt of his chin. "You gave it too many chances to adapt to your pace. If it'd been any stronger, you'd be dead right now."

The satisfaction that filled your chest only moments ago deflates in an instant as you slowly nod, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You pretend his words don't affect you and help the Kakushi gather the equipment as though nothing happened.

Still, you can't stop thinking about it for the entire walk back. Maybe you've been too optimistic believing you'd one day manage to impress someone like him. After all, he's a Hashira, and you're just another Demon Slayer.

Even so, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that his opinion shouldn't matter so much, you can't help wondering what would have to happen for Obanai, even just once, to look at you and say you'd done well.

After that mission, you stop expecting anything, or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself every time your paths cross again. Reality turns out to be far more ridiculous. You still find yourself searching for him the moment every battle ends, as though some stubborn part of you refuses to give up hope of receiving even a simple pat on the back.

It's ridiculous, you know that. You're a Demon Slayer, not a child desperate for approval, but Obanai isn't just any comrade, he's a Hashira.

Someone whose technique borders on perfection, whose experience surpasses yours by an overwhelming margin, and whose opinion, as much as it annoys you to admit it, matters far more than it should. If someone like him told you that you'd done well, you'd feel like you were truly making progress.

Instead, the opposite always happens.

If you let your guard down during training, he points it out before you've even recovered your stance. If you manage to defeat an especially elusive demon, he finds the one moment during the fight when you hesitated. If you hand in a report without a single ink stain, he notices that you described the wind direction incorrectly or forgot to write down how long it took the demon to regenerate.

They're tiny details, almost insignificant, but he never lets a single one slip by.

Even Mitsuri seems to notice. One afternoon, while the two of you happen to be at the Ubuyashiki Estate, she sits beside you with a cup of tea in her hands and watches you for a few seconds before offering you a gentle smile.

"You shouldn't take what Iguro-san says so personally," she says softly, almost as though she's afraid of offending you.

You let out a humorless laugh and lower your gaze to the cup you're holding.

"It's hard not to when it feels like everything I do is wrong whenever he's around."

Mitsuri parts her lips slightly, as though she's about to answer right away, but ends up closing them again. Something strange crosses her expression, a moment of hesitation, as though she knows something she can't tell you. In the end, she simply sighs and pats your shoulder.

"Don't pay too much attention to him. He's just like that… well, whenever something's worrying him."

That sentence stays with you for the rest of the day, though you can't make any sense of it. He never softens his words or tries to make them hurt less. It's that very honesty that eventually convinces you that, quite simply, he doesn't like you.

It's fine, you don't have to be liked by everyone. You repeat that to yourself over and over again… even if it still stings a little more than you'd ever like to admit.

A few days later, Kagaya gathers everyone to assign the week's missions. You stand alongside the other Demon Slayers, listening carefully as each destination is announced. When he calls your name, you step forward. The mission sounds simple enough, a series of disappearances in a small village to the north, nothing out of the ordinary.

You nod to show you've understood the instructions, but a cold voice cuts through the silence.

"No."

The entire garden falls silent. You don't even need to look to know who spoke. Obanai remains where he is, Kaburamaru coiled around his shoulders, his arms folded beneath his striped haori. His expression doesn't change in the slightest as he meets the Master's gaze without blinking.

"That village is too close to the mountain where the last squad disappeared," he explains to Kagaya without sparing you a single glance, as though he isn't talking about something that concerns you. "There's a chance the demon's been classified below its actual rank."

You press your lips together tightly.

Kagaya remains silent for a few moments. He gives you a brief glance before slowly nodding.

"Then we'll send another group to verify the information first," Kagaya replies, and you don't even have time to react before the mission is taken away from you right before your eyes.

You look around. No one protests or even seems surprised, and Obanai doesn't so much as acknowledge you when you glare at him. A bitter frustration begins to settle in your chest while the rest of the meeting carries on as though nothing had happened.

A single "no" from Obanai has been enough to overturn a decision that had already been made. You suppose that's what it means to be a Hashira, to carry enough weight that your opinion tips the scales before anyone else's.

Meanwhile, you didn't even get the chance to say you were willing to take the mission. No one asked whether you believed you could handle it. You're lower ranked, they're the Hashira, that's simply how the Corps works.

You've always accepted it because you understand that their experience far surpasses your own, but right now, that difference in rank feels unfair.

The meeting comes to an end, but you barely hear everyone's parting farewells. As soon as the others begin dispersing across the estate, your feet are already moving on their own. You don't know what you're going to say once you find him, you only know you refuse to let this go as though nothing happened.

You find Obanai a little while later walking along one of the stone paths that runs beside the pond.

"Iguro-sama," you call out.

He doesn't stop immediately. Only when you're close enough does he slightly turn his head toward you.

"What is it?"

The indifference in his voice is what finally pushes your patience past its limit.

"Why did you do that?" You walk until you're standing directly in front of Obanai, forcing him to finally give you his full attention.

You've spent the entire meeting swallowing your frustration, telling yourself it isn't worth confronting someone of a higher rank over a decision that's already been made, but the more you think about it, the more unbearable it becomes.

Obanai's gaze remains fixed on yours, cold and unreadable, as though he's deciding whether this conversation is even worth having. That thought alone makes your blood boil with frustration.

Kaburamaru lifts his head slightly, sensing the tension between the two of you.

"You changed my mission in front of everyone with just a few words without even waiting to hear what I had to say." You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, slowly shaking your head. "Just like that, without even considering my opinion."

"Is that why you're here?" He lazily raises an eyebrow, and you take another step closer, wanting nothing more than to punch him, but you're not going to fall for his provocation. "That mission wasn't suitable for you."

"And who are you to decide that?" you ask, unable to hide the frustration that's been building inside you for months. "I've spent far too long swallowing your criticism, listening to you find something wrong with everything I do, wondering what the hell I have to do to stop looking like a burden in your eyes, and now it turns out you also get to decide which missions I can accept. Were you not even going to ask whether I was willing to take that risk?"

"I was going to ask you, after changing the mission," he replies after a few seconds with a shrug. "If the report turned out to be accurate, there wouldn't have been anything to discuss. If it turned out to be wrong, I'd rather you didn't go."

"Of course, because naturally, you're the one who gets to decide which risks I can take and which ones I can't," you snap.

"I'm not saying that."

Without realizing it, you take another step toward him. The distance between you shrinks enough that Kaburamaru raises his head once again, carefully following your every movement.

"Do you know what the problem is, Iguro-sama?" you ask, feeling your voice begin to tremble. "You don't trust me. It doesn't matter how much I train or how many missions I complete, to you I'll always be the Demon Slayer who needs to be reminded of everything she's done wrong."

Obanai parts his lips, but you don't give him the chance to answer.

"Every single time I finish a mission, I look for you like an idiot. Your opinion matters to me, and all I ever get from you is criticism."

His eyes waver. He looks away toward the pond, but you move closer again, forcing him to focus on you.

"If you were expecting praise…" he finally begins, his voice much quieter than before, "… you've been expecting it from the wrong person."

"Are you serious?" you ask in disbelief. You slowly shake your head, unable to hold Obanai's gaze for even another second. The knot you've been trying to ignore for the past several minutes tightens painfully in your throat, and before it can turn into something even more humiliating, you turn around. "Is that really the only thing you took away from everything I said? Forget it. Coming here was a mistake."

You manage to take two steps before a firm, though surprisingly gentle, grip closes around your wrist. The gesture is so unexpected that you freeze instantly. Obanai never initiates physical contact with anyone. Out of every reaction you'd imagined, this one was, by far, the last.

"I wasn't finished talking," he scolds with a frown, and you let out an exasperated sigh as the shock finally wears off. "I don't understand why you're looking for my approval. I've never needed anyone else's."

"Because we're not the same, Iguro-sama. You've spent years proving that you're one of the Corps' strongest swordsmen, you don't need anyone to tell you you're doing well because you already know what you're worth." You raise your eyes until they meet his once more, and your voice loses some of the harshness it carried when you first approached him. "I'm still trying to become better. I still make mistakes. I still hesitate. And when the person I admire the most seems incapable of acknowledging even a single thing I do right, it's hard not to think I'll never be enough."

"I've never thought you weren't enough." Obanai grimaces, visibly uncomfortable with a conversation that's clearly slipping out of his control. "If I believed that, I wouldn't waste my time correcting you. There are Demon Slayers I never say a word to."

"Then maybe you should rethink your way of showing interest, because to me it looked like the exact opposite. Every time you pointed out a flaw in something I did, I thought it was because you wanted me out of your sight as soon as possible." You let out a short, exhausted laugh. "Do you have any idea how many times I've finished a mission convinced you were embarrassed to have to work with me?"

Those words seem to reach him in a way the others hadn't. Obanai lowers his gaze and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he mutters something you can barely make out.

"Kanroji was right… I messed this up."

"What?" You frown. "What does Kanroji-sama have to do with…"

"Become my Tsuguko."

"…Did I hear you wrong?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice, convinced there has to be some kind of misunderstanding.

"Kanroji told me I should've asked you sooner, but I thought it'd be more useful to prepare you first. If you were going to become my Tsuguko, I needed to make sure you got rid of any habits that could put you in danger. I thought you'd understand why I kept insisting on correcting you."

"You seriously expected me to figure that out?" The words leave your lips in little more than a whisper as you point at yourself.

"No." Obanai pauses briefly. "I'm not used to explaining myself."

The entire argument, all the frustration that's been building inside you for months, begins to unravel inside your mind.

You came here prepared to confront a man who couldn't stand you, not to find out he'd spent all this time trying to make you his Tsuguko, to the point that he'd even asked Mitsuri for advice on how to go about it.

"You're a disaster, you know that?" you finally mutter, pressing a hand against your forehead as you let out a weary sigh.

You press your lips together to stop yourself from laughing. You're still angry with him, very angry, but it's becoming difficult to keep arguing.

Obanai clears his throat as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. "Kanroji said the exact same thing."

"So…" You break the brief silence that settles between you, folding your arms as you raise an eyebrow. "This whole time you've been training me to become your Tsuguko without ever telling me?"

Obanai nods once. "Yes."

"That's… probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

You slowly shake your head before taking another step toward him until you're standing in front of him once again.

"Next time, Iguro-sama, try starting from the beginning. A simple 'I want you to become my Tsuguko' would've been far more effective than making me believe you couldn't stand working with me."

"Yes… alright. I shouldn't have assumed you'd figure it out." Obanai looks away, and you notice the blush on his face deepen even though half of it is hidden beneath the bandages.

"I accept," you reply with an amused smile. "It would be an honor to become your Tsuguko, Serpent Hashira."

You lower your head in a small bow, and Obanai lets out a quiet huff before taking a step back.

"Your training starts tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late to my estate."

"Of course!" You practically bounce with excitement. This is all happening so fast, but becoming a Hashira's Tsuguko is an incredible opportunity to truly improve, and it's a privilege very few people are ever offered. "I'll be there."

You turn around, intending to leave.

"And…" Obanai begins.

You glance back at him over your shoulder.

"For someone of your rank, you're already among the strongest, but I still have a lot to teach you." The words come out so quickly that it almost sounds as though Obanai is trying to get them over with before he loses his nerve.

The bright smile that spreads across your face is impossible to hold back.

Uzui Tengen doesn't need anyone's approval, that's something everyone knows.

He doesn't hesitate when entering a room, he doesn't lower his voice when he has something to say, and he never stops to wonder if what he's doing is enough. Tengen doesn't walk into a room like everyone else, he enters as if the entire world should momentarily turn its attention toward him and acknowledge his presence.

That's why you're not surprised when he appears in front of you with something new. You're already used to his excesses, his extravagant ideas, and his tendency to turn even the smallest detail into something worthy of admiration. What still manages to surprise you, however, is that, out of all the people he could go to, you're always the first person he chooses to show something to.

"Well?"

You raise your eyes from the report you're reading and find Tengen standing in front of the engawa, an arrogant smile on his face as he holds a small open box between his fingers.

Inside there is a pair of earrings. They're eye-catching, of course, it would be strange if they weren't considering it's Tengen. The green stones shine beneath the afternoon light, surrounded by small silver details that reflect every movement.

"They're pretty," you lean slightly closer to look at them.

Tengen immediately smiles. "I knew it."

The smug satisfaction in his voice makes you roll your eyes.

"But..." you tilt your head slightly, looking at them more carefully, and Tengen's expression changes. "I think rubies suit you better."

Tengen's eyebrows raise slightly, and he lowers his gaze toward the box he's holding in his hands, thinking about your words. "Yeah?"

He doesn't seem bothered. On the contrary, he seems to be considering your answer with complete seriousness.

"Then I'll find different ones."

"You're going to change them just because I said so?" you blink in surprise.

Tengen shrugs.

"I trust your judgment."

His response catches you off guard.

Tengen doesn't need anyone to tell him what to do, he never has. He's someone who makes his own decisions, who walks with confidence, knowing exactly who he is and what he wants, but even so, when it comes to you, he seems to have no problem stopping and listening.

Before you can answer, he carefully closes the box and puts it away while he begins walking toward the exit.

"I'll find something more flashy, something that actually stands out."

A few days later, you're training with Mitsuri when the subject comes up.

"Uzui-san always asks you about everything," Mitsuri observes you with a curious expression, although a smile quickly appears on her face.

"Of course, I have better taste than him," you joke, getting into position to charge at her again with your sword.

Unlike other Hashira, whose presence can feel heavy or intimidating even when they're not fighting, Mitsuri makes it easy to relax around her. Her movements are quick and precise, but she never loses the kind expression that defines her.

Her sweet expression disappears the moment she enters combat, replaced by a focus that shows exactly why she's a Hashira. She takes a step forward with a speed that completely contradicts the softness of her movements, turning the wooden sword at an unexpected angle before directing a strike toward your side.

You block the attack with your own sword, feeling the force of the impact travel through your arms. The dry sound of wood meeting wood echoes across the training field while both of you remain still for a moment, applying pressure in opposite directions.

After another exchange, both of you stop to catch your breath. Mitsuri sits on the grass, placing her sword to the side while taking some water.

"Going back to the topic of Uzui-san... When he needs to choose something, has a new idea, or wants to know if something suits him, he always ends up asking you."

You lower your gaze for a moment, remembering the small box of earrings in his hands, his expression while waiting for your answer, and how quickly he accepted changing his mind.

"I don't think it's that big of a deal," you make a face, knowing how false it sounds. Mitsuri tilts her head, clearly disagreeing.

"He's someone who's very confident in himself. He never doubts his own decisions," Mitsuri smiles in a slightly softer way, looking at you from the corner of her eye. "I think he trusts you a lot."

"Because he knows I'll tell him the truth."

"Exactly," Mitsuri seems excited by the conclusion, as if she's just discovered something important. "That's what's most interesting!"

"What is?" you look at her confused.

"That Uzui-san, out of everyone, seems to value the opinion of someone who isn't trying to impress him the most."

The comment leaves you speechless as the pieces slowly start connecting in your mind. Tengen is surrounded by people who recognize his strength, his extravagance, and his presence. Everyone knows who Uzui Tengen is, but with you he doesn't seem to be looking for admiration, only honesty.

"Besides..." Mitsuri stands up while picking up her wooden sword, preparing to continue training. "I think it might also be because he likes you."

Your heart skips a beat and you stare at her with wide eyes. Mitsuri opens her eyes wide when she realizes what she just said and quickly waves her hands in front of herself.

"Although I don't know! I don't want to assume anything, but..."

"I don't think it's because of that..." you try to interrupt, needing to correct the idea before allowing yourself to think too much about it.

"...You should talk about it with him," Mitsuri blinks several times when she finishes speaking, analyzing what you said. "Love is a beautiful feeling, you shouldn't shut yourself away from the possibility of it."

"What if it's not anything like that?"

"Then nothing will have happened," Mitsuri smiles. "But if it is..."

She leaves the sentence unfinished, allowing you to imagine the rest.

Then she takes a combat stance and, as if the previous conversation wasn't enough to make your thoughts spiral, she smiles enthusiastically again.

"Now come on, we still have to finish training."

You raise your wooden sword with a sigh, preparing for the next exchange. If you keep talking about Tengen your head is going to explode.

"Are you going to keep talking about this while we fight?"

Mitsuri places a finger on her chin, pretending to think.

"Probably."

Now that Mitsuri has put the idea in your head, you start noticing the little things.

You start realizing that, even though Tengen is still Tengen, he still enters a room as if he expects everyone to look at him, there are certain moments when his arrogance fades in front of you.

One morning, Tengen appears in front of you with a new golden chain adorning his hair.

It's the kind of accessory only Tengen would wear. It shines under the daylight, matches the rest of his appearance, and has that exaggerated touch that would make anyone else raise an eyebrow at the sight of it.

"Too much?"

You stare at him slightly open-mouthed. "Did you just ask me if it's too much? You!?"

"What? Can't a man ask for an opinion?" The way he says it tries to sound casual, but you notice that he's actually waiting for your answer.

"Well, in that case... A little," you shrug.

Tengen brings a hand to his hair and touches the chain with his fingers, looking at it as if he's reconsidering his choice.

"Yeah?"

"But it doesn't look bad on you," you quickly add, and that seems to be enough because a small sense of satisfaction crosses Tengen's face before he continues with the rest of his day.

During training, he's no longer wearing the chain.

You don't comment on it, assuming he simply decided to change it, because that's something Tengen does constantly. He's always trying new things that fit better with the image he has of himself.

Until he appears again with a new bracelet.

"What do you think?" he asks, and you lower your gaze toward his wrist.

The bracelet is elegant, although less exaggerated than other accessories he usually wears. It has smaller details with rubies embedded into it, but it still has that unmistakable Tengen touch.

"It's pretty," you admire it, bringing your hand closer to brush it with your index finger.

Tengen smiles slightly. "More than the previous one?"

"Yeah, I like it more," you whisper with a soft smile.

He does the same thing as last time, nods, and continues with his day, but this time the bracelet stays on his wrist for an entire week. Even when someone else comments that the previous one was more eye-catching, that it had more presence, or that it matched his usual style better, Tengen doesn't change his mind.

"I need to ask you something," Tengen tells you a few days later.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking about retiring from some missions."

"Retiring?" you gasp in surprise.

Tengen nods slowly.

"I've spent too many years thinking only about the next mission," his gaze turns toward the sky with a slight melancholic expression. "I don't regret it, I'd do it again if necessary, but... I think the time has come to live for something more."

"Uzui-san, that's... That's a very important decision," you murmur, taking a few steps closer to him.

"Oh, come on! Don't act shy... Don't you think a man like me deserves a peaceful life?"

"Of course! Of course you do. You, me, all of us have fought for years, we deserve it," the smile Tengen gives you makes you blush.

"You already answered the question." Seeing your confused expression, Tengen continues. "I wanted to know your opinion."

You lower your gaze for a moment, unable to keep looking at that gentle smile he's giving you.

"Huh? But..." you murmur, raising your head. "If you feel now is the time to stop, you don't have to consider anyone's opinion. Do what you think is right."

Tengen stays silent. His eyes, normally so lively and confident, linger on every word you say with an attention that makes you feel strangely nervous. You swallow and he takes a few steps closer. Tengen reaches out his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and you flinch.

"I knew you'd say something like that," he murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your forehead. "You always know what to say."

"Is that why you ask for my opinion about everything?" you can't help but ask.

"No," Tengen smiles mischievously. "There's a pretty simple reason, actually."

You frown.

You hate when Tengen decides to tease you, and the worst part is that he seems to especially enjoy doing it. He always finds a way to say things with that arrogant smile that frustrates you so much, stretching the joke just long enough to get a reaction out of you.

"If you don't plan on telling me, I'm leaving-"

"Because I'm in love with you."

You stare at him, convinced that at any moment he'll burst out laughing and say it was another one of his jokes. You wait a second, but Tengen's expression doesn't change.

"What?" The word leaves your lips in a whisper.

"You heard me," Tengen shrugs.

How can he stand there so calmly, acting as if he didn't just change the way you've seen every conversation you've ever had with him?

"Tengen... if this is one of your jokes, I swear to God-"

"Oh, are we calling each other by our names now?"

"Tengen!"

He lets out a brief laugh, but this time there's no teasing in it, only a warmth that makes your heart race again.

"I'm completely serious," his smile doesn't disappear.

That is even more confusing than if it were a joke. You expected him to say that he was just messing with you, that it was another one of his ways of getting you to lose your patience. That would have been easier to understand.

Tengen doesn't take his eyes off yours.

The man who never seems to doubt anything is looking at you as if this is the clearest decision he's ever made in his entire life.

You can't believe Mitsuri was right. The thought hits you suddenly, and you almost want to laugh at how absurd the situation is. She's probably going to remind you about it for the rest of your life every chance she gets.

"...Oh," you finally murmur. "What about...?" You hesitate for a few seconds before continuing. "What about your wives? This..."

Tengen's expression softens slightly, as if he was expecting that question.

"They're okay with it. I've already talked to them."

"Really!?" you squeal, bringing your hands to your face.

"They know me pretty well," he pauses, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting your head upward. "They know I don't do anything unless I'm sure."

The proximity makes your heart race even more, pounding hard against your ribs. Tengen's hand moves from your chin to gently cup your cheek with a tenderness that makes you want to melt.

"You still haven't answered my confession, you know? That's not very flashy of you," he murmurs, lowering his face closer to yours.

Tengen's smile widens slightly when he sees your nervous expression, although this time there's no intention of teasing you.

"I don't understand how you can be so calm," you admit after a few seconds. "Is it really that easy for you?"

"It wasn't easy." Tengen's fingers gently brush your cheek before moving away slightly, giving you space. "I spent years believing my life only had value as long as I could keep fighting, that as long as I was useful, as long as I could protect others, that was enough."

Tengen's gaze drifts away for a moment, looking at the garden in front of you both.

The afternoon light reflects on his hair and the accessories that have always been such a big part of him, but now none of those details seem to be the most important thing. For a moment, he looks younger, more human, as if he has finally let go of that enormous presence he carries on his shoulders to show you a more vulnerable part of himself.

"But after everything that happened, after seeing so many people lose everything... I started thinking that maybe surviving wasn't the end of the road." Tengen's magenta eyes settle on you. "Maybe I could allow myself to want something of my own."

"Tengen... I also am-"

"Besides, let's be honest. I have excellent taste."

A bit of Tengen's arrogant smile returns.

You stay silent for a few seconds.

"Did you just ruin the moment? Are you being serious?"

"I'm just staying true to my style."

You can't help but laugh, and it seems like that's what Tengen wanted to hear, because he smiles in satisfaction and takes a few steps closer.

"You're unbearable," you complain, lightly hitting his shoulder while wiping the corner of your eye.

"That's one of my best qualities," he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

You shake your head, but the smile you're trying to hide appears anyway. Tengen looks at you, tilting his head, and gently intertwines his fingers with yours.

"So," he murmurs. "Do I have to wait long to know if the most extravagant man you know has a chance?"

Instead of answering, you pull on the collar of his haori and dare to crash your lips against his in a quick, clumsy kiss that doesn't even give Tengen enough time to respond.

You pull away a few centimeters, wanting to tease the bewildered expression on Tengen's face. It's impossible to believe; he, who always seems to be one step ahead of everyone, looks at you with his mouth slightly open, as if he's still processing that you really just stole a kiss from him.

"What? Did I leave the great Uzui Tengen speechless?" you joke, stepping away a few steps, amused.

"Did you really just kiss me?" He comes out of his daze, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. "That's not fair! I was supposed to be the one who made the first move..."

"I guess you'll have to settle for being beaten once," you murmur, trying to hold back a smile.

"Once?" Tengen narrows his eyes, pretending to be offended.

"Once."

"How cruel."

The dramatic way he says it makes you shake your head while laughing, but you can't help noticing how his fingers remain intertwined with yours, with no intention of letting go.

The first time Upper rank two, Dōma pays attention to a couple isn't even because he's interested, it happens purely by chance.

He's sitting on a bench in the town square, absentmindedly rolling a coin between his fingers. The night stretches peacefully over the village, wrapped in a dark blanket torn apart only by the trembling glow of paper lanterns and the few oil lamps still burning outside the shops.

There are far too many people around him for his liking, children running back and forth, vendors calling out to advertise goods that probably nobody needs, and conversations blending together until they become one endless murmur.

It's boring, far too boring.

He's about to leave when something catches his attention, a young man buys a flower.

It doesn't look particularly beautiful. In fact, several of its petals are bent and the stem is slightly crooked, enough to make Dōma wonder why anyone would spend money on something so unremarkable.

The young man, however, doesn't seem to notice those little flaws at all. He leaves a few coins on the stall with a smile that's impossible to hide and, the moment the flower is in his hands, he runs toward a young woman waiting several yards away.

She doesn't even need to look at it properly for her whole face to light up. She accepts the flower with flushed cheeks before wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace. Then they continue walking as though that exchange had been the most ordinary thing in the world, yet from where he's sitting, Dōma can't seem to look away.

He frowns slightly, unable to understand what he's just witnessed. The flower has no real value. Anyone could pick one just like it from a field without spending a single coin, and yet that young woman's expression had changed as though she'd just received the most extraordinary gift in the world.

But if there's one thing Dōma has learned from watching humans, it's that the best way to understand them is never by asking questions, it's by imitating them.

A slow smile spreads across his lips.

You aren't expecting any visitors that night. In fact, you're convinced you'll spend the rest of the evening completely alone.

You've just finished setting your gear down on the table when an icy breeze slips through the open window and a cold breath brushes against one side of your face.

"Hello, darling," Dōma murmurs with a small smile while you jump and instinctively reach for the hilt of your sword.

"Dōma! Warn me before you come in," you complain, pressing a hand to your chest, where your heart is pounding. "And please, use the door."

"Oh my, I'm sorry," he says, tilting his head, though he doesn't look sorry in the slightest. "I'll do that next time."

You can't help letting out a sigh before smiling, there's something about Dōma that keeps disarming you. His questions are strange, yes, and the way he watches other people can be unsettling at times, but you never sense any malice behind it. If anything, he seems like someone trying to solve a puzzle whose rules everyone understands except him.

You turn around, eager to take a long bath and wash away all the grime you've brought back from the mission you finished that very morning, when you hear a soft clearing of his throat behind you.

"Here."

Dōma awkwardly brings out the hand he'd been hiding behind his back without you even noticing.

You take the flower, confusion written all over your face.

You hold it between your fingers for a few seconds, turning it slightly as you study the bent petals. There's nothing special about it. It's an ordinary flower, the kind anyone could find at the very first stall in the market, and yet when you look back up at Dōma, you find him watching you intently.

"Thank you," you murmur, unable to hide the smile on your face. "But… why are you giving it to me?"

"Oh?" Dōma places a hand over his chest, his eyebrows shooting up. "Can't I give a flower to my beloved?"

"Dōma."

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, leaning against the wall. "I had an idea."

"That never ends well," you narrow your eyes, and Dōma flashes you an amused smile.

"This morning I saw a man buy a flower," he begins. You raise an eyebrow but stay silent, letting him continue. "It wasn't pretty, but he still gave it to the woman he was with, and she smiled before hugging him."

His gaze drops to the flower you're still holding between your fingers before slowly returning to your face.

"Humans are so foolish. They're satisfied with anything."

"Excuse me?" you snap, but Dōma raises a hand before you can continue.

"I just thought it was curious. The flower was something insignificant, and yet she smiled as though he'd given her the whole world." Dōma's rainbow eyes lock onto yours, stealing your breath away. "I wanted to see if you'd smile like that too."

You stare at him for a few seconds, completely bewildered, ignoring the blush warming your cheeks before a quiet laugh slips out through your nose.

"You're hopeless."

"So… does that mean it worked?"

A few days later, he does something else that completely disarms you, this time while the two of you are walking through the town center.

Beside you, Dōma walks with his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his haori, taking in everything around him with interest. The conversation, as always whenever you're with him, drifts wherever his latest whim takes it.

He swears the dog lying in front of the butcher's shop has exactly the same expression as the baker on the corner whenever someone asks him to lower the price of bread.

A few minutes later, he points at a particularly long cloud and insists it looks like a giant fish trying to swallow the moon.

Before you can answer, he changes the subject again to complain that someone painted a door blue even though the entire building is red and, according to him, "it completely ruins the harmony of the street."

You never know how he manages to connect one thought to the next, and you're not even sure he knows either.

Even so, you end up following the conversation with quiet laughs and resigned replies, because arguing with Dōma is almost always far more exhausting than simply agreeing with him.

That's when you feel the faintest brush against the back of your hand.

Dōma's fingers have just slipped carefully between yours. He gives your hand a light squeeze for a few seconds before continuing to walk as though he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary, and it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for most people, but Dōma isn't an affectionate person.

You keep walking for another couple of steps, far too surprised to do anything else, until you finally come to a stop in the middle of the street.

Dōma barely turns his head toward you, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-What are you doing?" you stammer, far too flustered to keep yourself under control.

His gaze drops to your intertwined hands.

"I saw a couple walking like this yesterday."

As he answers, he threads his fingers a little more securely through yours, studying the gesture with the same curiosity a child would have while taking apart a toy just to figure out how it works.

"You're still doing this?" you complain, even though your heart is racing.

"Of course, darling," he says with a cheerful smile. "You're my beloved."

You open your mouth to answer, only to fall silent. You're starting to hate how effortlessly he leaves you speechless.

Over the following weeks, the "experiments" continue.

One night, after returning from an especially long mission, you find him waiting for you, sitting on the wooden fence surrounding your house. He absentmindedly swings one leg while holding a small paper-wrapped package in his hands.

The moment he sees you approaching, he jumps down and holds it out toward you.

"For you."

You frown slightly before unwrapping the package, It's your favorite dessert.

"You saw that with another couple too?" you ask, surprised that he remembered something like that.

Dōma nods without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"Yes."

He stays silent while watching your expression so intently you can almost feel the weight of his gaze resting on your face. He doesn't seem interested in the dessert at all. The only thing that matters to him is finding out whether the result will be the same as it was with the flower.

You end up smiling without meaning to, and he smiles too, confirming that the outcome is exactly the same.

Another day, the two of you are walking along a forest path when a gust of wind tosses your hair into disarray. You don't notice until you feel careful fingers brushing a strand away from your cheek.

You immediately look up, and Dōma pulls his hand back with a small smile that makes his eyes close.

Another day, the cold catches both of you off guard while you're walking through the village. Without warning, Dōma stops in front of you and reaches both hands toward your neck, making you flinch.

"What are you doing?" you murmur.

"Don't move."

With a level of concentration that seems completely unlike him, he straightens the scarf wrapped around your neck, smooths out one end that had folded over, and makes sure it's covering you properly again.

Dōma takes a step back to admire the result. "That's better."

One day, this whole situation of being Dōma's guinea pig becomes a problem.

You've grown used to finding him waiting for you whenever you come back from a mission, to listening to one of his ridiculous observations while the two of you wander aimlessly hand in hand, to him showing up with a flower, a dessert, or some other completely unexpected little gift simply because, according to him, "a couple did the same thing the other day."

And the touches, those damned touches.

The way his fingers seek out your cheek to wipe away the tiniest speck of dirt, the habit he's developed of brushing his knuckles against your face whenever he manages to make you laugh, the absentminded circles his fingertips trace over the back of your hand while you walk together, even the way he's started resting a hand against the small of your back every time you cross a crowded street, as though he's afraid of losing you in the crowd.

Dōma is only trying to understand humans. He isn't doing any of it because it comes naturally to him.

You try to repeat that to yourself over and over every time your heart skips a beat when he threads his fingers through yours or leans in to brush a strand of hair away from your face with a gentleness you never would've expected from someone like him.

As soon as he finds the answer he's looking for… he'll stop asking you questions, and once he stops asking you questions, he'll stop bringing you flowers, stop holding your hand, stop waiting for you after your missions, and stop stroking you affectionately whenever he gets the chance.

You don't know if you're ready for when that day comes.

The path leading to the shrine is completely deserted.

At this hour of the night, the only sounds are the murmur of the wind drifting through the treetops and the soft crunch of gravel beneath your footsteps. The stone lanterns lining the path cast a faint glow over the steps, enough to paint your long shadows between the torii gates leading to the main shrine building.

With Dōma, silence has gradually become something unusual. The two of you walk side by side while he absentmindedly observes the shrine, the paper streamers swaying in the breeze, and the wooden prayer plaques where worshippers leave their written wishes. You, on the other hand, are only aware of him.

"I don't understand why we pray so much to a deity that doesn't exist," your voice breaks the silence without warning.

Dōma lifts his gaze toward a small row of ema gently swaying beneath the shrine's roof.

"Because they like believing someone's listening."

"And does that work?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter whether it works," he says, pausing briefly as he runs his tongue across his lips. "They just need to believe it will. Humans like taking shelter in that whenever they want to escape pain."

Dōma falls silent, simply watching the wooden plaques for a few seconds before starting to walk again. You follow without saying anything, letting the silence settle between you once more.

When you reach the highest point of the shrine, you decide to stop. From there, most of the town stretches out below you, dotted with tiny lights that are still glowing despite the late hour. The air is colder here, and a gentle breeze stirs a few loose strands of your hair.

You rest your forearms against the wooden railing, and Dōma comes to stand beside you. It doesn't take him long before he turns his face toward you.

"The way you're looking at me is starting to worry me," you say, unable to bear the silence.

The corner of his lips curves ever so slightly. "Which way?"

"That way," you reply, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye with a faint frown.

When you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze, he's looking at you exactly the same way as before. There's no trace of the teasing smile he usually wears when he's trying to get under your skin, nor that childlike look that's always accompanied by endless questions.

A knot slowly forms in your throat, there's something in his eyes that makes your skin prickle.

He looks vulnerable.

Beneath the silver light of the moon, his eyes seem to lose any resemblance to those of a human being. The colors melt into one another as though someone had spilled paint across his irises, catching flashes of pink, gold, and turquoise every time the breeze stirs the branches overhead.

They're beautiful eyes, unreal, so mesmerizing that it's easy to forget they belong to a demon capable of painting an entire forest with blood.

A creature for whom you're betraying the Demon Slayer Corps.

"Are you going to answer me?" you ask almost in a whisper, unable to stop your hands from trembling.

"You're very beautiful."

Your lips part slightly, once again unable to find an answer ever since this whole madness began. For weeks you've learned to trace the origin of every one of his gestures, but this time, you can't.

The compliment hangs between the two of you, as fragile as the silence that follows it.

Dōma doesn't look away, the moon continues reflecting in his eyes, making their colors shift with every slight movement of his head. The pink fades into gold, then an almost crystal-blue appears, one you've never noticed so clearly before. He's beautiful, painfully beautiful.

You wonder how many people have died staring into those same eyes without ever realizing they were the last thing they'd see in their lives, and yet right now, you can't find even the slightest trace of cruelty in them.

Your heart pounds so hard against your chest that you wonder if he can hear it too, he probably can, demons hear everything.

You lower your gaze for a moment, unable to endure that intensity any longer. Before you can gather your thoughts, though, you feel cold fingers slipping beneath your chin.

Dōma gently tilts your face back up with a tenderness that contradicts the strength you know he possesses.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice coming out far shakier than you'd intended.

He takes a few seconds before answering. His eyes deliberately wander across every corner of your face, as though he's trying to memorize it.

"I had an idea," he says, just like he did that night weeks ago.

"That never ends well," you joke weakly, playing along.

The shadow of a smile briefly crosses his lips before disappearing almost as quickly as it came.

"No," he says, slowly shaking his head. "This time it's different."

His thumb absentmindedly brushes along the line of your jaw in slow caresses that send butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

Dōma's gaze slowly drops to your lips.

"You're very beautiful," he repeats, this time in a quiet voice.

"You already said that," your lips begin to tremble beneath Dōma's attention.

"It's not enough, darling."

His lips find yours with an almost reverent slowness, as though even in that final moment Dōma is still wondering why he feels the need to do it. You've kissed Dōma far too many times to be surprised by a gesture like this.

You know the coldness of his lips, the faint sweet scent that always seems to linger around him, and the carefree way he leans down whenever he feels like stealing a kiss from you.

But this kiss isn't like any of the others.

It's not one of those absentminded kisses while he calls you "darling" with that insolent smile, it isn't one of those fleeting kisses he shares with you before disappearing among the trees as effortlessly as he arrived, nor is he trying to make you react or see what expression you'll make afterward.

Dōma lingers against your lips for a moment that seems to stretch far longer than it should, motionless at first, as though that simple contact alone is enough to quiet every thought that's been stirring inside him for weeks. Then he deepens the kiss.

His thumb strokes your cheek while his lips move against yours with a gentleness that slowly unties the knot that had been tightening around your chest.

Your fingers end up clutching the collar of his haori, while Dōma's leave your cheek to carefully slide down to your waist. His touch is still cold, but it no longer startles you.

His mouth parts yours as his tongue slips inside, turning the kiss into a scorching one that draws a soft moan from your lips. With insulting ease, as though you weigh absolutely nothing, he lifts you off the ground. The movement is so smooth that you barely have time to let out a small gasp before finding yourself sitting on the shrine's wooden railing.

He immediately steps between your legs to keep you from losing your balance.

Dōma tilts his head and finds your lips again and again, like a thirsty man incapable of pulling away from the only source that can quench his thirst.

When you're finally running out of air, you're the one who breaks the kiss just enough to take a shaky breath.

Dōma remains in front of you, still far too close, one hand resting on your waist while the other is still caressing your cheek, as though he'd forgotten to pull it away.

His white hair, always immaculate, has become slightly tousled from the wind and from your own fingers, which are still gripping the collar of his haori. A few loose strands fall across his forehead, casting soft shadows that soften his features.

His rainbow eyes are just as beautiful beneath the moonlight, but now they seem darker, deeper, like the surface of a lake after someone has thrown a stone into it and the last ripples are beginning to fade.

Dōma's lips are slightly parted, faintly flushed after your long kissing session.

He looks so beautiful that it steals your breath away.

"I think I was wrong," Dōma says, his voice rough enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"About what?" you murmur, still dazed from the kisses.

"I thought I was learning how people in love behave," his hand slowly leaves your cheek to find yours. "But it's been a long time since I needed to watch other couples."

Your heart skips a beat. "Dōma…"

"I don't watch what they do anymore, it's boring." His eyes return to yours. "All I think about is wanting to do those things with you."

Tears blur your vision as all the weight that's been building on your chest for weeks suddenly disappears.

Dōma tilts his head in confusion. "Are you crying?"

A shaky laugh escapes you through your tears.

"You're an idiot…" you murmur so affectionately that the words lose any intention of sounding like a reproach.

Before he can ask why, you close the little distance still separating the two of you and bury your face against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him. Dōma goes completely still, surprised, before cautiously wrapping his arms around you in return.

"Ah," slips from Dōma's lips. "This is… interesting."

His chin slowly comes to rest on top of your head, and you let out a small sound of confusion.

"I used to think it was silly that you smiled whenever I did things like this," he says, his eyes remaining fixed on the darkness surrounding the shrine. "Now I'm the one doing it."

The first sign that something is wrong with Rengoku Kyojurō is that he's trying to convince you he's perfectly fine.

That might sound strange as a warning sign because Kyojurō has a habit of saying he's fine even when he clearly isn't. It's one of the things that frustrates you the most about him and, at the same time, one of the things you admire the most.

Kyojurō is the kind of person who smiles after coming back from an exhausting mission, who congratulates everyone else before acknowledging his own injuries, and who genuinely seems to believe that as long as the people around him are safe, any discomfort he feels simply doesn't matter.

His expression almost never changes, and that's exactly why it's so difficult to tell when something is actually wrong.

The mission had lasted much longer than expected. What had seemed like nothing more than a lone demon hiding near a small village turned out to be far more complicated, forcing your entire team to spend hours in the rain tracking its movements and fighting through a forest where visibility was practically nonexistent. None of you had suffered any serious injuries, but the exhaustion and cold were obvious on every Corps member returning alongside you.

"Excellent work!" Kyojurō announces the moment you step through the entrance to the estate, with an energy that seems impossible after an entire night spent on a mission. "The villagers are safe, and the demon has been defeated! It was a successful mission!"

Several heads turn toward him because of the volume of his voice, although no one actually looks surprised. That's simply how Kyojurō is.

You watch him quietly for a few seconds.

His uniform is still soaked from the rain, a few strands of hair have fallen across his face, and a small cut on his cheek still hasn't been cleaned. You also notice a stain of dried blood near his shoulder, though judging by the way he's moving, you already know he'll probably try to convince you it's nothing important.

"You're bleeding," you murmur with a slight frown, taking a few steps toward him.

"It's only a scratch!" His smile never fades.

"That's what you said last time," you sigh, slightly irritated, but gently brush your fingertips over the cut on his cheek with concern.

"And it was only a scratch," he says, and you try not to feel disappointed when Kyojurō pulls away from your touch.

"That scratch kept you from moving your arm for two days."

Kyojurō stays silent for a second.

"A slightly inconvenient scratch."

You can't help sighing. That's exactly the problem with him. As good as he is at taking care of everyone else, when it comes to himself, he seems completely incapable of accepting that he needs someone to take care of him too.

"You should let Kochō-san take a look at that."

"I'm perfectly fine," he insists.

You stare at him in silence, and Kyojurō returns your gaze in a way that tells you he has no intention of changing his mind.

Neither of you says anything for a few seconds until his expression softens just a little, and his smile becomes gentler.

"You worry too much," he murmurs, but you're close enough to hear him perfectly.

Your breath catches. He doesn't sound like he's complaining, it feels more like an observation, but even the slightest hint that Kyojurō might suspect your feelings terrifies you.

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can, Kyojurō turns toward the inside of the estate.

"I'll go clean up and get some rest."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Of course!" he nods.

"Without training."

The silence that follows makes you sigh.

"Rengoku-san."

Kyojurō looks away, and you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously.

"Fine," he finally answers. "I'll get some rest."

Before you can say anything else, he says goodbye and heads inside the estate, leaving you with the strange feeling that something about him wasn't quite right.

You find out what happened a few hours later.

You're in your room. The rain had soaked your uniform down to the last thread, and simply taking it off draws a relieved sigh from your lips. You wrap a towel around your hair while leaving your damp clothes by the door and, for the first time since the mission ended, you feel the weight of exhaustion settling onto your shoulders.

It had been four long days, and if everything went well, you'd be able to rest until the next morning.

You're finishing drying your hair when someone knocks softly on the door.

It's not an impatient knock, just a couple of careful taps, almost shy.

"Come in," you say, setting the towel aside.

It isn't loud or insistent, only two cautious knocks that barely break the silence of the estate. You frown slightly as you drape the towel over your shoulders and walk over to open the door.

When you slide it open, you find Senjurō standing there. His hands are clasped together in front of him, and although he tries to smile with his usual politeness, you immediately notice the concern he can't quite hide. His eyes drift to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again.

"Senjurō-kun?"

He gives you a small bow before stepping inside.

"I'm sorry for coming this late."

"You never have to apologize for that." You step aside to give him room, though he gently shakes his head, making it clear he doesn't plan to stay. "Did something happen?"

The hesitation that crosses his face is enough to make the knot of unease you've carried since the mission settle back into your chest.

"It's my brother."

Your expression changes instantly. "What happened to him?"

Senjurō lets out a slow sigh, as though he'd spent several minutes trying to figure out the best way to explain it without making it sound worse than it was.

"When he came back from the mission, he insisted he was just tired. He changed his clothes and said he was going to rest for a while, so I thought sleeping would do him good…" He lowers his gaze for a few seconds, embarrassed that he hadn't insisted more. "But a little while ago I brought him dinner, and the tray was exactly where I'd left it. He hadn't touched any of it."

A bad feeling settles in your stomach before he even continues.

"I went in to wake him and… he had a really high fever. He tried to sit up to convince me he was perfectly fine, but he barely managed to sit before he got dizzy. He keeps saying it's only a little exhaustion and that he'll be back to normal tomorrow, but…" He slowly shakes his head. "I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

You press your lips into a thin line.

Kyojurō had spent four days barely resting, fighting through constant rain, enduring the cold, and staying soaked to the bone. Anyone else would've admitted they needed to stop long before this, but he'd spent his entire life ignoring anything that only affected his own body.

You're so tired of that.

"Has Kochō-san come yet?"

"I already sent someone to get her." Senjurō nods immediately. "But she's treating several Demon Slayers who came back injured from another mission, and she said it'll take a while. So…" His fingers tighten nervously around the fabric of his uniform before he looks back up at you. "I thought maybe you'd want to come in the meantime."

The way he says it makes something tighten painfully inside your chest.

"Let's go." You give him a small smile.

The relief on Senjurō's face is so obvious that he tries to hide it by straightening his back and regaining his composure.

The two of you walk through the hallways in silence. The estate is much quieter at this hour, and the sound of rain against the roof accompanies your footsteps.

When Senjurō slides the door open, the faint scent of medicinal herbs mixed with the warmth of the room greets you. The brazier still burns quietly in one corner, and Kyojurō is resting on the futon, propped up against several cushions. The moment he hears the door, he immediately lifts his head, as though he'd been waiting for someone to come in.

"Senjurō!" he exclaims with a bright smile, though his voice is slightly hoarse. "I told you there was no need to worry so much. I just need a little rest, and tomorrow I'll be able to train like normal."

The sentence loses every bit of credibility the moment your eyes settle on him.

His cheeks are flushed a deep shade of red, a few strands of hair cling to his forehead, damp with sweat, and even from the doorway you can see the unusual shine in his eyes. He breathes a little heavily, as though even talking requires more effort than he's willing to admit.

When he sees you, his smile seems to widen even more as you cross the room without taking your eyes off him.

"You told me you were fine," you scold him.

"I am."

You stop in front of the futon and, without asking permission, press your palm against his forehead. His temperature is enough to make you frown immediately.

"Kyojurō."

"Yes?"

"You're burning up," you snap, pulling your hand away as if you'd burned yourself.

He seems to consider your words for a moment before answering calmly.

"I suppose I'm a little warm."

Senjurō watches the exchange in silence, clearly torn between concern and the relief of having you there so he doesn't have to deal with his brother alone.

"I got him some water a little while ago," he explains quietly. "And I managed to get him to drink a little, but he wouldn't eat dinner."

"I wasn't very hungry," Kyojurō answers before you can say anything.

"You haven't eaten since this morning," Senjurō replies firmly.

Kyojurō looks at his brother, who looks away for a second as though he'd just been caught doing something mischievous.

"Senjurō-kun," you call, and he startles, looking at you with wide eyes. "Thank you for coming to get me."

He lowers his head modestly. "It was nothing."

"It wasn't." You give him a small smile. "Now go get some rest. It's late, and you've spent long enough worrying about him."

Senjurō hesitates. "But…"

"I'll stay with Rengoku-san until Kochō-san gets here."

He glances at his brother, still clearly unsure.

"Will you be okay?"

"Of course!" Kyojurō answers. "You have nothing to worry about, Senjurō. Get some rest."

Senjurō shakes his head in resignation before saying goodbye and quietly sliding the door shut behind him. His footsteps gradually fade down the hallway until they disappear completely, leaving behind a comfortable silence broken only by the steady rain on the roof and the soft crackling of the brazier.

Now that Senjurō is gone and the room has fallen quiet again, it's much more obvious how exhausted he really is. He's no longer sitting quite as straight as usual, and although he's still smiling, it looks like nothing more than habit. Even breathing takes effort, something he tries to hide every time he notices you watching him too closely.

"What?" His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"Nothing."

Kyojurō tilts his head slightly, clearly unconvinced.

"You were staring at me."

"Because you looked like you were about to pass out," you mutter, sitting down beside him, closer than before.

Kyojurō smiles with barely noticeable resignation.

"I'll admit my body's not cooperating very well today…" He lets out a quiet laugh before continuing. "But I won't pass out that easily."

Without answering, you place your palm against his forehead again.

The fever hasn't gone down at all. If anything, it's gotten worse.

You frown as you pull your hand away and dampen the cloth Senjurō had prepared earlier. After wringing it out carefully, you place it back across Kyojurō's forehead, brushing a few sweat-damp strands of hair away from his skin.

He closes his eyes the moment the cool cloth touches him.

Kyojurō stays silent for several minutes. You think he's finally fallen asleep because his breathing slowly evens out, and the slight frown caused by his discomfort gradually fades away.

"Mother…" His voice is barely above a whisper, and you immediately lift your head.

He doesn't seem aware that you're there. His eyes remain closed, and his breathing stays slow.

"Senjurō is growing up so much." A small smile appears on his lips. "He's a good boy… much better than I was at his age."

His voice trails off again for a few seconds.

"I want him to laugh more." His lips curl into the faintest smile. "He looks so much like Mother when he smiles."

Your eyes drift down to his hands resting on the blanket. They're completely relaxed, and he doesn't even seem to realize he's still talking.

"Father…" His smile disappears just as gently as it appeared. "I hope someday he'll look at us again."

You know Kyojurō well enough to know he'd never say something like that while fully conscious. He'd never speak about his father with resentment or sadness in front of someone else. He accepts everything with admirable calm, even the things that still clearly hurt him.

Your hand finds his almost without thinking. His fingers twitch at the contact before gently curling around yours.

"Kyojurō…" you whisper, even though you know he probably can't hear you.

"I'm always too late to protect everyone."

You blink in confusion.

"If I'd run just a little faster…" His breathing becomes slightly uneven. "If I'd been stronger…"

"Don't cry," you whisper so quietly you can barely hear yourself. "As long as I'm here, you won't have to carry everything on your own."

You tighten your grip around his hand. You don't expect an answer. In fact, you're convinced he didn't hear you, but Kyojurō smiles.

"It's easier with you." He barely opens his eyes. "I can rest a little."

His gaze remains unfocused somewhere between the ceiling and your shoulders, clouded by exhaustion and fever.

"You're always watching me." Another faint smile appears on his face. "You always know when something hurts, and you scold me."

You huff in annoyance, rolling your eyes, and he laughs weakly.

"I like it when you do."

Your heart skips a beat before racing wildly, and you tighten your fingers around his hand while Kyojurō keeps talking as though he hasn't said anything important.

"When I come back from a mission…" His breathing slowly steadies again. "You're the first person I look for."

Heat rushes to your cheeks, leaving you completely defenseless, while a sweet ache settles beneath your ribs.

For so long, you'd kept those feelings buried in silence, convinced they had to stay hidden, and now only a few honest words are enough to tear down every wall you'd built around them.

"If I see you…" He pauses for so long you think he's fallen asleep. "Then I know everything turned out alright."

He smiles again, his eyes still half closed. You can't stop yourself from smiling through the tightness growing in your throat as you gently stroke the back of his hand.

"So beautiful…" he murmurs with absentminded tenderness that almost sounds as though he's speaking to a memory. "You've always been so beautiful."

Kyojurō shifts slightly on the futon, his fingers tightening around yours just a little more.

You want to answer. You want to tell him that you look for him too every time he comes back, that every mission feels like an endless wait, and that you've never stopped praying to see him smile again, but your mind goes completely blank.

"Don't go," he murmurs. His eyelids slowly flutter open, and although the fever still clouds his eyes, this time he manages to focus on yours.

"I'm not going anywhere," you answer almost without thinking, leaning down slightly so he can hear you. "I'm staying right here."

The tension in his shoulders seems to melt away instantly.

Before you sits the man who always seems invincible, brought low by something as simple as a fever, the same man who never allows anyone to see his own weaknesses and who has now, without realizing it, laid the most vulnerable part of himself completely bare.

You don't know whether the fever is still making him ramble or whether he's finally regained enough clarity to understand who you are and where he is. All you know is that he's looking at you with such calm, such warmth, that it's impossible to hold his gaze for very long.

You lift your hand to brush another strand of hair away from his forehead, and Kyojurō closes his eyes, leaning ever so slightly into your touch.

You lean over him very slowly. You could stop. It's not too late. Yet when your eyes meet his once more, you find the same familiar warmth that always takes your breath away.

You close the last bit of distance between you and brush your lips against his in a brief, gentle kiss, far too nervous to dare anything more. As you begin to pull away, a warm hand slowly rises to cup your cheek.

You look up, and Kyojurō is still watching you. The confusion that clouded his eyes only minutes ago is gone.

"No…" he murmurs with a small, affectionate smile. "Don't pull away just yet."

Before you can react, he closes the remaining distance himself.

Neither of you is in any hurry. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that almost hurts, warm despite the fever consuming the rest of his body. His breath mingles with yours while his thumb continues to stroke your cheek gently, tracing along your cheekbone before coming to rest there as though he wants to memorize the shape of your face.

"I thought…" Kyojurō says in a voice so quiet it's almost swallowed by the sound of the rain. "I thought I was dreaming."

A nervous laugh slips from your lips. "I'm starting to think so too."

The door slides open at that exact moment.

"Oh, my. Am I interrupting something?"

Both of you immediately turn your heads in surprise.

Shinobu stands in the doorway with a small medicine box in her hands. For a second she silently takes in the scene, her eyes moving from Kyojurō to you and back to Kyojurō before an amused smile curls across her lips.

"I'm relieved to see Rengoku-san still has enough energy for other activities." The smile Shinobu sends you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You're definitely going to be the Corps' favorite gossip for a very long time.

Tomioka Giyuu

The mission has been over for a while now, but neither of you seems to be in any hurry to head back.

The sound of the river fills the silence as you rest on some rocks, letting the exhaustion slowly leave your bodies. The air is cool, and the breeze gently stirs the leaves in the trees, creating a kind of peace that's hard to find after a battle.

You sigh without taking your eyes off the water. It keeps flowing calmly, carrying away tiny leaves that disappear downstream, and for a moment you wish sorting through your thoughts were as simple as letting them drift away.

"We're finally done..."

Giyuu gives a small nod. "Yeah."

A faint smile forms on your lips. With anyone else, this silence would eventually become awkward, but with him it never does. It's strange. Giyuu doesn't need to fill every moment with words to make you feel like you're not alone, and maybe that's why you finally find the courage to ask the question that's been on your mind for quite a while.

"Can I ask you something?"

He turns his head slightly toward you.

"Of course."

You lower your gaze to the small pebble you're holding between your fingers and absentmindedly roll it back and forth. You're not quite sure how to bring it up, so you take the long way around, hoping the words will come on their own.

"Have you ever felt like you've made a mistake... even though you can't regret it?"

Giyuu stays quiet for a few seconds before answering.

"Maybe." His answer comes without trying to figure out what you're implying. That makes it a little easier to breathe. You nod to yourself and let out a quiet laugh, more nervous than amused. "I think that's happened to me too."

With a small flick of your wrist, you throw the stone into the river. You watch it skip once before sinking, unable to take your eyes off the water as you gather enough courage to keep going.

"I fell in love with someone."

You don't get any immediate reaction.

When you finally dare to glance at him, Giyuu is still watching the river with the same calm expression as always. He doesn't look surprised, curious, or uncomfortable, he simply waits for you to finish speaking, as if he understands that you still haven't said everything you want to say.

That gives you the courage to continue.

"I tried to convince myself it was a bad idea. I thought that if I ignored how I felt for long enough, it'd disappear on its own. After all, this isn't the kind of job where I can afford to grow attached to people."

You lower your gaze to your hands, keeping yourself busy playing with your fingers to avoid looking at him directly.

"But it didn't work."

The sound of the water fills the silence between you again. A few seconds pass before Giyuu speaks.

"Who is it?"

The question is so simple that the answer leaves your lips before you can think twice.

"You."

The air seems to vanish in an instant. You hear Giyuu take a deep breath before the sound of your own heartbeat drowns out everything else. It's pounding so hard you can almost feel it in your throat, and it doesn't even take a second for you to realize what you've just done.

You've just confessed to him.

Your lips remain slightly parted as you desperately search for some way to fix the situation, but there isn't one. The harder you try to come up with an explanation, the more you realize there isn't one. You can't pretend you were talking about someone else, and you can't act like it was a joke.

You lower your gaze immediately, unable to bear the thought of meeting his eyes.

"Forget it." A nervous laugh slips past your lips. "I don't know what came over me."

You stand up, intending to leave before you embarrass yourself any further, but you don't even get the chance to take a step.

"Wait." His voice sounds more hurried than usual.

When you look back at him, Giyuu is already on his feet.

"I don't want to forget it." He lowers his gaze for a few seconds before meeting your eyes again. "I thought... I'd never have to face this."

You frown slightly. "What do you mean?"

Giyuu stays silent for a few more seconds.

"I mean... I fell in love with you too."

Your breath catches for a moment, and Giyuu looks away with a faint blush on his cheeks. You slowly step closer until the sleeve of your haori brushes against his.

"I thought I'd never have the courage to say it," he finishes, closing his eyes.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Shinazugawa Sanemi

The mission has been over for quite a while now, but Sanemi seems completely incapable of sitting still. The moment you return to headquarters, he heads straight for the training yard, completely ignoring the wounds that are still open beneath his bandages.

You watch him drive blow after blow into one of the wooden training posts, as if exhaustion simply doesn't exist for him. Every movement stains the bandages around his side with a little more blood, and the longer you watch him, the harder it becomes to resist the urge to stop him.

"Are you planning on keeping this up much longer?" you finally ask.

Sanemi doesn't even stop hitting the post.

"Does it bother you?"

You let out a tired sigh. Of course it bothers you. He's spent the entire mission throwing himself headfirst at demons without caring about taking a single hit, and even now he seems convinced that making it out alive means nothing happened.

You press your lips together before stepping a little closer, folding your arms as you wait for him to come to his senses for once.

"What bothers me is watching you end up half dead and still acting like you're invincible."

He lets out a quiet scoff through his nose and finally lowers his sword. He turns toward you with that defiant expression that always seems glued to his face, absentmindedly wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"But I'm still alive."

"Out of pure luck," you reply with a frown.

"No, because I know what I'm doing." His answer comes with such confidence that you can feel your patience slowly slipping away.

You've spent far too long watching him gamble with his life without thinking about the consequences, far too long swallowing your fear every time he disappears from your sight during a mission. He always makes it back... but one day he might not.

That possibility has been living in your mind for weeks, following you even when you try to sleep.

"Do you know what your problem is?" you murmur, unable to take your eyes off him. "You never think about the people left behind watching you do all these stupid things."

Sanemi raises an eyebrow, clearly confused by your comment. "And why should I?"

His answer makes you let out a humorless laugh. You shake your head several times, trying to convince yourself there's no point arguing with him anymore. He never listens, he never changes his mind, it's like talking to a brick wall.

"Forget it," you mutter wearily. That's the effect Sanemi's stubbornness has on you.

You start walking away, convinced the conversation is over, but Sanemi's voice reaches you again only a few seconds later.

"Quit worrying about stupid things. I don't want your concern."

You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. You know that if you answer now, you'll probably end up saying something you'll regret for the rest of your life.

But when you turn back toward him, he's still looking at you with that same defiant expression, and something inside you finally snaps.

"Of course I'm worried!" you exclaim, feeling every bit of frustration that's built up over months come pouring out all at once. "You don't get it at all! How am I supposed to stop when I'm in love with you?"

Silence falls over the training yard with almost painful weight.

You swallow hard. Shit. That just slipped out.

Sanemi stares at you as if you've just punched him square in the face. His expression stays completely frozen for several seconds, so much so that you start wondering if he even heard you. And yet, the slight tremble in his eyes and the way his grip tightens around the hilt of his sword make it obvious that he did.

Far more obvious than either of you would've liked.

You're the first to look away.

"I don't know why I said that. Forget it. Just stop acting like an idiot around me," you mutter, walking away before your own impulsiveness sends you into a full panic.

"Hey."

Sanemi's voice makes you stop.

He's still standing exactly where he was, one hand resting on the back of his neck and the other hanging at his side. He avoids looking directly at you, something completely unlike him, as he lets out a long sigh through his nose.

"That's got to be the dumbest confession I've ever heard."

Your cheeks burn even hotter. "I said forget it!"

"Will you let me talk?" he snaps irritably, and you immediately fall silent. "Better."

Sanemi lowers his head for a few seconds, clearly uncomfortable.

"I've spent months trying to convince myself it was better to keep my distance from you." He pauses, clicking his tongue in annoyance at himself. "Then you go and say something like that out of nowhere."

You can't help letting out a small nervous laugh.

"Believe me, that wasn't my intention," you say, rolling your eyes.

Without giving it much thought, he closes the distance between you until he's standing right in front of you. For a few seconds, neither of you does anything. You simply look at each other, both still far too embarrassed to know who should make the first move.

"Now that you've said it..." With an awkward movement, he reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. "I guess it's my turn to admit that I'm so fucking in love with you."

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Uzui Tengen

The mission has been surprisingly easy. So easy, in fact, that the walk back is filled with casual conversations and the occasional exaggerated comment from Tengen about how utterly unimpressive that demon had been.

You watch him walk a few steps ahead of you with his hands behind his head, completely relaxed, as if he hadn't just spent hours fighting. Every now and then he turns around to tell you some ridiculous story or make you laugh with one of his remarks, and you can't help wondering how it's possible for someone to have so much energy even after a mission.

"You've been awfully quiet today," Tengen says, changing the subject when he notices you aren't paying attention to whatever he was talking about.

You look up at him.

"I'm tired."

"No, you're not." He smiles.

You frown slightly, offended. "What do you mean, I'm not?"

"When you're tired, you don't frown that much. You do that when you're overthinking." He gives you a light tap between your eyebrows, and you click your tongue.

You hate to admit it, but he knows you far too well.

You lower your gaze to the path, hoping he'll change the subject. You've spent the entire mission trying to ignore the little knot in your chest that tightens every time he gets too close, every time he smiles, or every time he unconsciously seeks out your company as naturally as breathing.

Especially because you know perfectly well those little gestures don't mean anything to him.

"What are you thinking about?" His question pulls you out of your thoughts. "And don't tell me 'nothing.' That answer's never interesting."

A small laugh slips from your lips. "You're such an idiot."

"And incredibly handsome." He wiggles his eyebrows several times, and you ignore the way your cheeks grow slightly warm.

"That too," you admit with a small smile.

Tengen places a hand over his chest in mock pride.

"Thank you. I like honest people."

You shake your head again, laughing. Talking to him is always far too easy, so much so that you end up forgetting to think before you speak.

"Although that also makes it harder to forget that I'm in love with you."

You keep walking for another couple of steps before realizing Tengen is no longer beside you.

He's standing perfectly still in the middle of the path, staring at you with an expression completely different from the one he had only moments ago. The teasing smile is gone, and he seems to have no idea what to say.

It takes you a few seconds to realize why, and your heart nearly stops.

"Wait, that!" Heat instantly rushes to your cheeks as your eyes go wide. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that!"

You bury your face in both hands, completely mortified.

Your embarrassment makes you start talking way too fast, your words tumbling over each other as you desperately search for an explanation that sounds even remotely believable.

"It just slipped out, I'm tired, I wasn't thinking clearly... I..."

Your voice trails off on its own. You don't even believe your own excuses. Tengen stays silent, and that only makes you even more nervous.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

He blinks a couple of times before letting out a quiet laugh through his nose.

"Wow... I wasn't expecting that." He brings a hand to his chin, as if he's carefully analyzing the situation. "I had noticed."

You lift your head so quickly it almost hurts. "What?"

A crooked smile slowly returns to his lips.

"Not that you were in love with me," he says slowly. "But I had noticed you'd been acting... differently for weeks."

Your cheeks burn even hotter. You hadn't thought you'd been that obvious. You're terrible at hiding things and even worse at lying.

"You'd always look for me the moment we finished a mission, you'd somehow end up walking beside me without even realizing it, and whenever one of my wives hugged me, you'd make the funniest face," he lists calmly while you grimace awkwardly at having yourself exposed like that.

"Well..." you mumble, covering part of your face with your hands again. "Now that I've completely embarrassed myself... I think I'm going to leave."

"I don't want you walking away thinking you're the only one who's been hiding something for a long time."

He steps in front of you with a smile far gentler than usual, so different from the one he shows the rest of the world that, for a moment, you barely recognize him.

"I would've preferred a confession that was a little more... extravagant." He raises a hand and, with surprisingly gentle care, brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face. "But I guess yours was pretty memorable too."

Your heart starts racing all over again.

"Does that mean...?"

Tengen's smile grows.

"It means I fell in love with you quite a long time ago."

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Himejima Gyomei

The mission ended before sunset, so the two of you decided to make a brief stop before returning to headquarters. Near the path stands a small abandoned temple where the whisper of the wind barely manages to break the silence. After spending the entire day fighting, the place offers a kind of peace that's hard to find anywhere else.

Gyomei sits on the stone steps with his hands folded in front of him, quietly reciting a prayer. You decide to sit beside him without saying a word, simply enjoying the sense of calm that always seems to surround him.

No matter how difficult the mission has been, somehow, just being close to him makes the weight on your shoulders slowly fade away.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks when he finishes praying.

You look up at him and nod with a small smile.

"Yeah. I just needed to rest for a while."

Gyomei smiles as well. "I'm glad you've had the chance to regain your strength. After such a demanding mission, the body needs rest too."

The two of you spend a few minutes looking out over the temple courtyard as the breeze gently stirs the branches overhead, until you let out a long sigh without even realizing it.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, leaning slightly toward you.

You shake your head almost instinctively.

"No... Well..."

You absentmindedly fiddle with a small leaf that has fallen onto the stone step. You've spent far too long trying to convince yourself that what you feel will disappear with time, but every mission you share, every quiet conversation, and every small act of kindness has done exactly the opposite.

"I was just thinking that... everything feels so much easier when I'm with you."

Gyomei turns his face slightly toward you, giving you his full attention.

"What do you mean?"

You lower your gaze, unable to answer right away.

"When I'm with you, I feel like I can stop worrying for a while. It's like... I don't have to carry everything on my own."

He listens to every word without interrupting you.

"If my company can ease even a small part of the burden you carry on your shoulders... then I'm grateful for that."

A smile appears on your lips.

"You're so kind..." you whisper, staring down at the ground. "I guess falling in love with someone like you was inevitable."

Gyomei goes completely still.

Your smile slowly fades, and then you gasp in surprise as you quickly stand up. You'd felt so comfortable that you couldn't stop yourself from opening up, even about the secret you'd been guarding more fiercely than anything else.

Gyomei's hands, which had been resting together on his lap until then, tense ever so slightly.

"...Could you repeat what you just said?"

"I didn't mean to say that..." you reply, wiping your sweaty hands against your haori.

"You have no reason to be ashamed." Gyomei rises to his feet as well and slowly walks toward you. "But I also don't wish to force you to repeat words you weren't ready to say."

His words manage to calm some of the nerves racing through your body, though not your embarrassment. You keep your eyes fixed on the ground, unable to gather enough courage to look at him. Your heart is pounding so hard you're convinced even he can hear it.

"It was an accident..." you murmur, barely above a whisper. "I fell in love with you before I even realized it had happened."

Gyomei simply gives you the time you need to gather your thoughts, never rushing you. The breeze stirs the leaves once more, and for a few moments, the only sound is the soft clink of the prayer beads as they slowly slide through his fingers.

"I've prayed many times," he finally confesses in his calm, steady voice. "Not for those feelings to disappear... but for my heart not to mistake affection for the desire to protect you."

You slowly lift your head. Gyomei keeps his gaze lowered, as though those words are just as difficult for him to say.

"I believed remaining silent was the right thing to do. My duty has always come before my own desires, and I never wanted to place the weight of feelings upon you that you might not have shared."

A lump forms in your throat. You'd never imagined he'd been struggling with the very same thing.

"So...?" you whisper hopefully.

Gyomei nods with a slight inclination of his head before you've even finished the question. He takes one small step toward you and, with almost reverent gentleness, takes one of your hands between both of his.

"If you'll allow me," he says with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, "I'd like to take care of your heart the same way you've been taking care of mine all this time."

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Iguro Obanai

The walk back is quiet, almost too quiet.

The mission has only been over for a few minutes, and even though exhaustion weighs heavily on both of you, neither of you seems willing to break the silence. The only sounds are the crunch of leaves beneath your feet and Kaburamaru's soft hissing as he rests coiled around Obanai's shoulders like always.

You've been stealing glances at the bandage wrapped around his arm for quite a while now. You can't stop thinking about the moment he stepped between you and the demon.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Obanai keeps walking for a few more steps before answering.

"Done what?" he asks in a bored tone.

You grimace. "Stepping in front of me."

He shifts his gaze back to the path and answers almost immediately.

"It was the fastest and most effective option."

You knew that was exactly what he'd say, but hearing him say it out loud only irritates you even more. You press your lips together, trying to let the subject go, but it's impossible.

If that attack had been only a few inches off... You shake your head. You don't even want to imagine how that mission would've ended.

"That's not the point."

Obanai finally stops and turns to face you completely, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You lower your gaze for a few seconds, searching for a way to explain something you've been keeping to yourself for far too long.

"I don't like seeing you do things like that," you murmur, embarrassed to let him see your more vulnerable side.

His expression barely changes.

"I've survived worse."

"I know."

"Then stop worrying."

He says it so simply that your blood starts to boil.

A humorless laugh slips from your lips.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Obanai raises an eyebrow slightly.

"I don't know. Figure it out yourself."

You let out a frustrated sigh. For months you've been trying to convince yourself that you could keep hiding your feelings, but every mission makes it a little harder. On top of that, he talks to you in that way that never fails to get under your skin. You don't understand how it's even possible that you've fallen in love with someone so unbelievably stubborn.

You let out another quiet huff and keep walking, convinced this conversation isn't going anywhere. But after only a couple of steps, you realize you can't hear Obanai following you anymore.

You frown slightly and turn on your heel, only to find him still standing perfectly still in the middle of the path.

Kaburamaru has lifted his head, and Obanai is looking at you with an expression you've never seen on his face before.

"Obanai?"

"Are you in love with me?"

The words leave both of your mouths at exactly the same time.

Your stomach drops, and you take a surprised step backward.

You blink several times, completely stunned, replaying the conversation in your head. No... you'd never said that. All you'd done was think about how frustrating he was and how ridiculous it was that you'd fallen in love with him.

The color drains from your face.

You hadn't thought it, you'd said it out loud.

You clamp a hand over your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks all at once. Your heart starts pounding so hard you can almost feel it in your throat, and an awful knot settles in your stomach.

"No!" you cry, your lips trembling. "I don't like you, no, not at all. That was a mistake, I... I'm leaving!"

You turn around with the sole intention of running away before you can make the situation even worse, but you've barely managed to take a single step when a hand gently wraps around your wrist.

How did he get beside you so fast?

Obanai doesn't tighten his grip to keep you there. The light touch of his fingers is enough to stop you from taking another step.

"You said it without thinking." His voice is far too calm.

You stay with your back to him, far too embarrassed to turn around. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest so hard that you can barely breathe properly.

"Please..." you murmur, your voice barely audible. "Pretend you didn't hear any of that."

For months you'd been careful with every word, every glance, and every little gesture so Obanai would never suspect a thing. And now, just a couple of sentences spoken in a moment of frustration had brought all of that crashing down.

The hand around your wrist loosens slightly.

"I can't." His next words come after a long silence. "I've been waiting far too long to hear something like that."

You feel the air leave your lungs, and you slowly turn to look at him.

Obanai is still avoiding your eyes. The faint blush spreading across the tips of his ears contrasts with the calm expression on his face, though the slight tremble in his fingers gives away that he's every bit as nervous as you are.

"I thought..." He pauses briefly, searching for the right words. "I thought I'd never have a reason to believe my feelings could ever be returned."

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Rengoku Kyojuro

The sun is beginning to set as the two of you make your way back. After an especially long mission, everything feels surprisingly peaceful. Rengoku walks beside you with the same energy he always has, enthusiastically talking about how well you worked together and recalling moments from the battle with such an infectious smile that you end up laughing along with him.

You can't help thinking that this is one of the things you love most about Kyojuro. Even after facing a demon, he still finds reasons to smile.

"You were magnificent today!" he suddenly exclaims, turning toward you with an expression full of pride. "I'm convinced that every mission we share proves just how much you've grown as a swordswoman!"

An embarrassed laugh slips from your lips.

"Don't exaggerate," you murmur, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.

"I never exaggerate when I'm giving someone a compliment!"

He shakes his head with such confidence that you end up rolling your eyes with a laugh.

"You're impossible."

"Thank you!" His smile grows even wider.

You look at him for a few seconds, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

You don't understand how someone can be so optimistic all the time. Sometimes, just spending a few hours by his side is enough to make you forget every worry, and maybe that's why you've spent so long trying to convince yourself that what you feel can't possibly be love.

Because it would be far too complicated, because he deserves someone better, and because you know he'll most likely never see you that way.

"Is something wrong?" he asks when he notices you've gone quiet again.

"No... I was just thinking."

"About what?" Kyojuro tilts his head curiously.

You let out a soft sigh, a dreamy smile appearing on your lips.

"About how wonderful it is to be in love with someone like you."

The silence doesn't last long, but it's long enough for those words to start echoing over and over inside your head.

The air seems to get stuck in your lungs as your heart lurches so hard you almost lose your balance.

Your eyes fly open, and heat rushes to your cheeks so quickly that you can feel even your ears burning. You clamp a hand over your mouth, completely horrified, replaying the conversation in your mind again and again with the ridiculous hope that you imagined it.

"Wait!" you blurt out, throwing both hands up in front of you as if you could stop time itself. "That... that wasn't meant for you! Well... it was meant for you! No! I mean..."

The words come out so fast that not even you can make sense of them. You squeeze your eyes shut. You've never wanted to disappear so badly.

For months, you'd imagined a beautiful, peaceful confession after finally working up the courage to do it. You'd thought through every last detail, the words you'd use and the perfect moment.

And instead, you'd ended up confessing in the middle of a muddy road after answering a completely innocent question.

You weren't even sure you'd ever confess at all.

You remain frozen, unable to gather the courage to look at him. You expect anything, surprise, rejection, or even for him to walk away without saying a word, but the one thing you don't expect is for him to laugh.

You slowly open your eyes. Kyojuro is still looking at you, but he doesn't seem uncomfortable or confused. Quite the opposite. His smile has grown even wider, and his eyes are shining with such unmistakable excitement that you're completely caught off guard.

"That makes me incredibly happy!"

You blink several times. "Excuse me?"

"I've been waiting to hear those words for a long time!"

Your mind goes completely blank. You stare at him, unsure whether you heard him correctly or if your embarrassment has finally made you lose your senses.

Kyojuro lets out a laugh full of excitement before resting a hand on his hip.

"I'd been planning to confess my feelings once I found the right moment! I wanted to do it after inviting you to have a meal with me once we got back from the mission." He pauses briefly before smiling at you again with the same warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. "But it seems you ended up being much braver than I was."

"Were you... in love with me?" You feel your heart start racing all over again.

"Of course!" he says without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "I've been in love with you for quite a long time."

The sincerity in his voice makes all the tension you've been carrying melt away in an instant. There's no hesitation in his voice, no embarrassment, no attempt to hide how he feels.

"I'm truly happy that your feelings found the courage to leave your heart." Before you can answer, Kyojuro gently wraps your hands in both of his, wearing the brightest smile. "I promise I'll make you just as happy as you've made me today!"