ALEXIS

Finals were only two weeks away, and the grind had truly begun.

Almost every uni student had claimed a spot in the libraries surrounding Briar, turning the hunt for a comfortable seat into a daily battle where the winners earned the privilege of studying for hours without being disturbed.

You'd settled into the main library, tucked away in the perfect corner where the rest of the world seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but your notes, textbooks, and the looming final exams demanding every ounce of your attention.

You'd maintained high distinctions throughout the year and planned to carry that momentum through finals.

When you and Logan first started talking, you'd quietly worry that he wouldn't understand. The endless hours, the discipline, the relentless drive to be the best. It was how you'd been raised, to chase excellence and never settle for anything less than your full potential. As it turned out, he understood better than anyone. As long as you remembered to eat, take breaks, and send him the occasional message whenever you had a spare moment, he was more than happy to cheer you on from the sidelines.

Besides, every night ended the same way. Logan would drive you back to the Hockey House, where you'd crawl into his bed together, never once falling asleep before stealing a proper cuddle with your boyfriend.

The memory of this morning crept into your mind, leaving you smiling like an idiot over a physics textbook.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, warming your face just enough to coax you awake.

Still half asleep, you reached across the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of Logan beside you, only for your fingers to meet nothing but cold sheets.

A slight frown settled on your face as you pushed yourself upright, your eyes wandering around the room in search of him, only to realise he was nowhere to be found.

The bedroom door sat slightly ajar and the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears before it slowly creaked open, Logan carefully slipping inside as quietly as possible, balancing a breakfast tray in both hands in an attempt not to wake you.

"You’re awake." He grinned, making his way over to the bed. “Good morning, baby.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the sight. Logan never failed to make you feel appreciated, especially during the times when stress threatened to consume you, always finding little ways to remind you that you never had to carry it all alone.

You were convinced the Gods themselves had blessed you with a man who instinctively knew how to love you properly. The only arguments you ever seemed to have were over missing each other too much.

Your phone buzzed against the table, pulling you back to reality.

You picked it up and glanced at the notification.

Johnny Boy: wya cutie

A smile tugged at your lips as you checked the time. It was already lunchtime, and your stomach was beginning to remind you that surviving on caffeine alone wasn't exactly sustainable before another marathon study session.

You: library, but I lowk need to grab some food so I'll be at the campus cafe in a bit

His reply appeared almost instantly.

Johnny Boy: don't worry, I'm walking in now

You frowned at the message, wondering what he meant by don't worry, only for the library doors to swing open moments later.

Logan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you, immediately lighting up as the biggest grin spread across his face.

He lifted a plastic takeaway bag in one hand before making his way over to your table.

"Got you some food, baby. Thought you might need a little care package."

He set the bag down before carefully unpacking everything inside.

Your heart clenched all over again, a grateful smile spreading across your face as you fought the very real urge to cry right there in the corner of the library. You honestly didn't know what you'd done to deserve a boyfriend this thoughtful.

He lined everything up neatly in front of you. A container of Chinese takeaway, an iced vanilla latte, and the block of chocolate you were constantly talking about whenever you needed something sweet after studying.

You were genuinely going to die from happiness.

He stood back with his hands resting on his hips, admiring his work with a grin that practically screamed how proud he was of himself for taking care of his girl.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

"You've got this, baby."

God, you loved this man.

“Suck on that, Dean!” Allie cheered, firing her laser gun straight into Dean's chest.

The loud buzz of his vest echoed through the arena.

Allie was such a girl boss. Honestly, you sometimes wondered how Dean had managed to get so lucky.

“I've got something else you could suck on,” Dean shot back with a grin before immediately taking off.

“You're dead!” Allie yelled, already sprinting after him.

Dean's laughter echoed through the maze as he disappeared around a corner, Allie's footsteps pounding after him without hesitation.

That left four people.

Well... three if Allie didn't eventually strangle Dean somewhere in the arena.

Just Tucker, Logan and you.

The dim room pulsed beneath flashing neon lights that painted everything in shifting blues and reds, making shadows jump across the maze of walls and crates. Every heartbeat felt louder than the music, adrenaline already pumping through your veins as you moved cautiously between cover. The boys had spent the entire game hunting you down, and every distant footstep made your pulse spike all over again.

A flicker of movement caught your eye behind a stack of boxes. You ducked behind a nearby wall, holding your breath as you peeked around the edge.

Target acquired.

Without giving him a chance to react, you leaned out and squeezed the trigger. His vest buzzed instantly.

“Bye bye, Tucker!” you celebrated with a victorious laugh.

Tucker threw both hands into the air in surrender. “Lucky shot,” he muttered, already making his way back to reception where everyone else waited.

Now it was just you. And your boyfriend. A one on one.

The muffled cheers from reception carried through the arena.

“Give him hell!” Hannah shouted.

“Don't let him distract you!” Sabrina called.

Smiling to yourself, you slowed your breathing and carefully circled the arena, every step deliberate as your eyes searched every corner.

Then you saw it. Barely visible behind a wall. The barrel of a laser gun. A grin tugged at your lips.

Got you.

You crept forward as quietly as possible, already picturing Logan's annoyed face when you eliminated him. The second you reached the corner, you swung out and fired directly where he'd been...

Nothing. “What?” Your gun lowered slightly as confusion replaced your confidence.

Where had he-

Something hard pressed against your lower back. The unmistakable barrel of a laser gun.

“Hey, pretty girl.” His voice brushed against your ear.

You spun around. Logan stood inches away, that infuriatingly smug grin spread across his face.

Instead of pulling the trigger, you ran.

A laugh escaped him almost immediately. “Oh, you're making this fun.”

You darted between walls, cutting sharply around crates before vaulting over a low barrier. The soles of your shoes slapped against the floor as you zigzagged through the maze, throwing quick glances over your shoulder.

He was still there.

Still following.

Not sprinting.

Not panicking.

Just keeping pace.

Like he already knew exactly where you were going.

You ducked around another corner, doubled back through a narrow passage and slipped behind a cluster of barrels, hoping to lose him long enough to circle around and catch him from behind.

Nothing.

Then footsteps. Steady, unhurried and growing closer.

You burst from your hiding spot and took off again. God, you were getting a workout, but you weren’t complaining.

There was something exhilarating about it. The thrill of the chase. The knowledge that it was your boyfriend relentlessly hunting you down.

“Don't run from me, baby!” Logan called, amusement dripping from every word.

His voice sounded much closer than it should have. You weren't losing him. You took a sharp right, immediately cut left, vaulted another row of boxes before skidding to an abrupt stop. A solid black wall towered in front of you.

Dead end.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me.” Your head whipped around, desperately searching for another exit. There wasn't one.

Footsteps echoed behind you. Slow and confident.

Logan rounded the corner with maddening ease, not even breathing hard with his dands loose at his sides.

A lazy smile on his face. “You lost?” he purred.

You lifted your laser gun, refusing to back down despite the corner you'd found yourself trapped in.

Both of you were competitive, neither willing to lose.

“One more step,” you warned with a smug smile, “and you're out of the game, love.”

His grin only widened. “You sure about that?”

Before your finger could fully squeeze the trigger, Logan exploded into motion.

He closed the distance in a heartbeat, twisting just enough for your laser to flash harmlessly past his shoulder before his body collided with yours. The impact pushed you gently but firmly against the wall.

His hand instinctively cradled the back of your head before it could knock against the surface behind you, cushioning the movement so naturally it stole the breath from your lungs almost as much as what came next.

His lips found yours without hesitation, like he'd been waiting all game to do exactly this.

Your laser gun slipped from your fingers, clattering forgotten onto the floor as both of your hands found him instead. One tangled through the slightly damp strands of his hair from all the running while the other settled against the rough stubble along his jaw, smiling into the kiss as it brushed softly against your skin.

The kiss deepened naturally, slow enough to savour but charged with all the adrenaline still racing through your bodies. Every stolen breath only pulled you closer, your fingers tightening in his hair as he smiled faintly against your lips before capturing them again, making your heart pound even harder than the game ever had.

His arm slid securely beneath your thigh as he effortlessly lifted you against him. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist. The world outside disappeared.

Eventually he drew back only far enough for your foreheads to rest together, both of you breathing harder than before, lips flushed from the kiss.

“I love chasing you,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth still curled into a smile.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “I love being chased by you.”

His eyes softened. You leaned in again, barely an inch separating your lips.

“Don't take it personally, baby.”

You blinked. “What are you-” A loud buzz erupted from the speakers.

You frowned and then felt the unmistakable barrel of his laser gun resting against your side. Your eyes widened as you saw your vest lit up. “You…”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

“You used kissing as a distraction!”

“I absolutely did.”

A chorus of cheers exploded from reception. You both looked up, horror spread across your face as every single person had been watching.

Dean doubled over laughing. “I knew Allie and I weren't the only ones getting busy!”

Allie smacked him across the arm. “Oh, shut up!”

Still wrapped around Logan's waist, you buried your face against his shoulder for a second before both of you dissolved into laughter.

“You're the worst,” you mumbled.

“And yet…” he stole one last quick kiss. “…I still won.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally slipped back onto your feet, picked up your abandoned laser gun and walked back towards reception beside him, already plotting exactly how you'd get your revenge next game.

The smartwatch on your wrist vibrated, and you glanced down.

Dean: Wanna come to Malones w da boys?

"We're going to put an IV in to help replace some of what your body's been depleted of," the doctor explained.

You looked up at her, too drained to answer, and simply nodded.

"I'll get one of the nurses and we’ll start, okay, hun?"

She disappeared behind the curtain surrounding your little corner of the emergency department.

Your watch buzzed again.

Dean: Helllooooo???

You let out a tired sigh. With what little energy you had left, you reached for your phone on the bedside table and typed a reply.

You: Soz can't rn

His response came almost instantly.

Dean: Why nut?

Despite everything, you smiled. Before you could think of a believable excuse, your phone lit up with his contact.

FaceTime.

Of course.

"Shit," you muttered.

You didn't want Dean worrying. You already felt ridiculous for ending up here over something that would probably pass after a few bags of fluids and some sleep.

You answered, holding the phone far too close to your face so none of the monitors or hospital bed could be seen.

"Ew. Why are you so close to the screen?" Dean laughed, his grin practically lighting up the display.

"Hello to you too."

Your face filled the entire camera, which wasn't exactly flattering considering the dark circles under your eyes and the handful of stress pimples you'd acquired from weeks of surviving on caffeine and poor decisions.

Dean chuckled before his expression slowly changed. "Why's there so much beeping?" His brows furrowed.

As if the universe had decided you hadn't suffered enough, the doctor returned with a nurse. Without thinking, you lowered your phone so you wouldn't look like an idiot video calling someone while being treated.

Unfortunately, it also gave Dean a perfect view of the room.

He called your name sharply. "What the fuck? Is that the hospital?"

You barely had time to react before the doctor started checking your chart.

The last thing you heard before the call disconnected was Dean saying, "I'll be there in twenty."

Your stomach twisted.

He was supposed to be out with the boys. This wasn't worth dragging him away for.

Dean had been your best friend since first year. Between sharing nearly every law class and spending more time arguing hypothetical court cases than actually studying them, the friendship had formed naturally. You'd always suspected law wasn't really what he wanted though. Sometimes it felt like he was only here because it was expected of him, but that was a conversation for another day.

The nurse checked your observations before inserting a cannula into your arm and hooking up another bag of fluids. Instead of feeling better, you only felt heavier, your eyelids refusing to stay open.

You just wanted to go back to your dorm, sleep for twelve hours, then pretend the mountain of assignments waiting for you didn't exist.

The curtain suddenly slid open. You looked up, ready to tell the nurse you weren't hungry anymore.

Instead, Dean stood there in his black jeans, white T-shirt and brown leather jacket.

His hair was windswept, his chest rising and falling as though he'd sprinted through the hospital.

You blinked. "It's only been like... ten minutes."

His breathing hadn't even settled.

"Did you speed?" you asked, suddenly finding enough energy to sit up.

Whether that burst of energy came from worrying he'd wrapped his car around a pole or simply because he was standing there was something you chose not to examine.

Definitely the first one.

Dean barely reacted. He dragged a chair beside your bed and sat down, concern written all over his face. "You're worried about whether I sped," he said quietly, "when you should be worried about yourself."

Silence settled between you.

Finally, Dean broke it. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

You looked away, chewing the inside of your cheek. "It wasn't a big deal. I didn't want anyone worrying, and you were already going out..."

"Fuck going out with the boys!" The words came so suddenly you stared at him. "I don't care where I am or what I'm doing," he continued, frustration slipping into every word. "I care whether you're okay. So don't give me that crap about not wanting to worry me."

His jaw tightened before he exhaled.

"You're my best friend."

Your chest tightened. You wished you were more.

"I'd rather you call me over nothing than sit here alone pretending everything's fine."

You swallowed hard. "I…I'm sorry." Your voice barely came out above a whisper. "I've just got so much work. I need to stay on top of everything, Dean. You know I do."

Your vision blurred before you realised tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

Dean reached over without hesitation, brushing one away with his thumb before pulling you gently into his arms.

His familiar scent, sandalwood and cedar, wrapped around you.

Home.

You buried your face against his shoulder as every bit of exhaustion you'd been holding together finally cracked.

He held you tighter.

"Don't ever tell yourself I'm better off not knowing." His voice was quiet against your hair. "I'll always show up."

Those four words settled somewhere deep inside you.

You hadn't realised how badly you needed someone to say them.

A polite cough interrupted the moment.

You both looked up as the doctor stood there trying very hard not to smile. Dean cleared his throat and leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We'll just run through your final observations and you'll be free to head home."

You quietly thanked her while the nurse finished checking everything one last time before removing the equipment.

"You look much better," the doctor smiled. "Just promise me you'll actually rest."

"I'll try."

Dean snorted beside you. "She will."

The doctor laughed. "I figured."

By the time you left the hospital, the sun had disappeared and the night air bit at your skin. You instinctively folded your arms across yourself. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

You looked up at him. "Thanks."

He simply nodded, opening the passenger door like he always did.

Some habits never changed. You sometimes wondered if he did this for every girl.

You hoped he didn't.

Dean climbed into the driver's seat, started the car, then immediately switched on the heater and heated seats.

"Warm enough?"

You pulled his jacket tighter around yourself.

"It smells like you."

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Dean glanced over, amused. "I shower occasionally, thanks."

You rolled your eyes. "I meant in a good way."

"I'll take the win."

The drive home passed quietly. Your eyelids grew heavier with every passing streetlight until your stomach growled loud enough to make you wince.

Dean smirked. "Hungry?"

"Apparently."

"We're almost home. I'll heat something up."

True to his word, he parked outside Hockey House and walked you inside.

Holding the front door open, he gave an unnecessarily dramatic bow. "M'lady."

You couldn't help laughing.

"There she is," he grinned. "I was starting to think the hospital stole your personality."

"Don't push it."

"Sit on the couch. I'll make you food."

You didn't argue.

The cushions practically swallowed you whole as you collapsed face first into them, letting out the deepest sigh you'd breathed in weeks. Somewhere in the kitchen you heard the microwave beep.

Your eyes drifted shut.

Dean walked back into the lounge carrying a steaming plate. "Alright, eat..."

He stopped. You were already asleep.

He smiled to himself before setting the plate down on the coffee table and pulling the throw blanket over you. Carefully, he crouched beside the couch, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The front door suddenly opened.

"Honey, I'm ho..." Logan froze as Dean shot upright, raising a finger to his lips.

Dean spoke through gritted teeth, barely louder than a whisper. "This is the most sleep she's gotten in weeks. If you wake her up, I'm cockblocking you."

Logan slowly zipped his lips shut before raising both hands in surrender.

Dean looked back at you. For the first time all day, your face looked peaceful.

He realised then that seeing you like this, finally resting instead of constantly pushing yourself, made something inside his chest ache. He wasn't about to admit that the ache had very little to do with friendship.

Some feelings were easier left unsaid.

“And hold! Five… Four… Almost there!”

The best part of doing pilates with Dean was when the instructors started counting tortuously slow.

And you swore Dean was so close to losing his shit. His right forearm was laid against the reformer platform, left leg stacked on his right as he balanced himself through a side plank.

“Baby,” he huffed, “I swear this is a form of BDSM.”

Since you did the opposite side of the movement, you could see him as he spoke. Sweat beading on his forehead, trailing down his neck and to the arm laid on the platform.

You wanted to lick it all up.

“All that muscle and you can’t even keep up?” you teased.

He gave you a pointed look and you knew you were in for it at the end of the session.

“And we are done!” the instructor boomed over the speakers, breaking your train of thought.

Dean sagged onto the reformer carriage, lying on his back, gazing at the roof. He turned his head toward you and gave you a crooked grin, “You hungry, baby?”

You were grabbing two sanitised wipes for each of your reformers before your response came, “Ugh. I could go for Mexican right now.”

He only let out an amused huff as if you missed something. You thought nothing of it.

Once you two had finished cleaning your respective stations, you made way to the reception, grabbing your belongings on the way. You thanked the instructor for the session, mama raised a polite girl, and walked out the building towards Dean’s black BMW.

Dean held your door open before saying, “Let’s get you fed, hm?”

Getting comfortable in the black leather interior of Dean’s car, you pulled the sun visor down to reapply your lippiy.

Dean pulled his door open, got into his seat and sat there as he watched you adoringly.

In the confined space you share together, his smell finally hit you. You think you’d be used to it after all his hockey matches, but nothing ever beats the smell of Dean after a hard workout.

You realised the car hasn’t started yet, and glanced at him. “What’s up-”

You didn’t feel the air shift in the small space you share as Dean crashed his lips onto yours.

The slow and soft kisses you two had shared this morning before you left for pilates was nothing compared to what he’s giving you now.

He was absolutely overwhelming, and not in a bad way. He consumed everything around you, drowning out the sounds from outside as they’re replaced with his heavy grunts.

Every sound that came out from Dean’s mouth sent shivers down your spine and heat straight to your pussy.

Your hand, desperate to find anything to hold, found his damp hair, running your fingers through and raking your nails against his scalp. The other held onto his thick bicep, which you indented with small crescents from how hard you were gripping him.

Dean’s hand found the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, and tipped your head to the side.

He bit the bottom of your lip and said, “Open that pretty mouth.”

And without hesitation, you looked at him through your thick lashes, you opened your mouth.

Dean’s grip on your hair tightened ever so slightly. His free hand found your face, grabbing your cheeks to spread your mouth further, making your pussy clench on nothing. You saw the movement of him drawing spit from his mouth before he spat into your mouth.

“Swallow, pretty girl,” he commanded. You obeyed.

Your mind was genuinely on autopilot as everything about him dominated you, and it felt liberating.

He returned to attacking your mouth with kisses, tugging at your bottom lip in silent request. You obliged, opening your mouth ever so slightly that his tongue slips through.

Tongues dancing together, he sucked onto yours, soft moans escaping your mouth which made Dean twitch painfully in his tight gym shorts.

A string of saliva connected you two as he pulled away. “I know what I want,” he whispered as his heavy breath fanned your face.

You, completely dazed, looked at him for a good second until it registered.

In return for doing pilates, he could get whatever her wants.

You dragged your thumb over your swollen, kiss-ridden, bottom lip, “Oh?”

His hips lifted as he adjusted himself on his leather seat, his eyes looked at his very obvious hard-on.

He looked back at you and you raised a brow, two can play that game, “Use your words, Deanie.”

“Please,” his hips lifted as he started pulling his shorts down, torturously slow, just like those instructors counting.

Your eyes followed the movement and you involuntarily swallowed, mouth growing dry at just the thought of taking him in your mouth. The dusty blonde hair that trailed from his stomach continued downward. Until his length finally sprung free.

“Please suck me, baby,” he stroked himself once, precum beading at the tip. “’m begging you.”

That’s it, Dean will be the death of you.

You gave him a sultry look before leaning over the center console, replacing his hand with yours. Dean’s size never fails to impress you, with your fingers barely touching as you wrapped them around him.

You stroked him slowly, earning a hiss from Dean. Looking up at him, one hand was gripping the head rest of his seat, bicep bulging while the other held onto the back of the center console. He looked absolutely delicious.

You brought your attention back to the star of the show. His tip was so red and precum started to drip down his length. You traced the precum all the way up to his tip, giving it small kitten licks, savouring the salty taste of him.

“Baby, don’t tease, please,” he said with a strained voice.

You smiled to yourself before taking him into your mouth, his length immediately hitting the back of your throat, gagging around him. That hand on the centre console settled on your hair, fisting it. He groaned, then bit his lip to muffle himself, as your throat clenched around him, making your pussy melt.

The hand you had wrapped around him tightened as you fisted the remaining length you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You started twisting your hand around him and you bobbed your head, swirling your tongue on his tip and length.

You heard smacking against leather, and assumed Dean was hitting the head rest struggling to maintain composure. From the sounds he made, he was definitely losing it.

Your other free hand cupped his balls, weighting and fondling them. The action forced Dean to lift his hips and buck into your mouth, activating you gag reflex, eliciting a choked moan from him.

You increased your pace, hand twisting, mouth sucking and his hips thrusting. The hand on your hair was fisted tight, guiding your head up and down. You moaned, sending vibrations through the hard length filling your mouth. Dean responded with thrusting harder, sounds of pleasure escaping him.

“That’s it, baby.” He stroked my hair with the hand that fisted it, ”Sucking me off in the car where anyone could see us.”

His hips thrusted and you felt him twitch in your mouth, with your lips parted around him, Dean has the sexiest view of you. His dick swelled and you knew he was close.

“Harder, baby. Please suck me harder.”

And you did, you worked in tandem with your tongue that licked a stripe along the vein of his length. Wrist rotating, increasing your grip ever so slightly to send him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he tried to pull you off his dick, “baby, baby, baby. ‘m gonna cum, please.”

He’d be a fool to think you wouldn’t wanna taste him, even after working so hard at pilates. You wanted to drain him. Suck him dry. Savour every drop.

Dean’s body shook, his hips bucked upward, both hands gripping your head this time, forcing your head onto him. He tossed his head back, audibly hitting the head rest, releasing himself in your mouth. Your name left his lips, like a prayer. You stayed still as he spilled every remaining drop into your mouth before swallowing it all.

You pulled off him, proud of yourself.

His hands fell to his sides as he sat there, completely spent. His breathing was still erratic, you’d think he just finished a hockey match. He tilted his head, looking at you with a smirk, “When are you doing pilates again?”

With your eyes gradually closing, you emitted a soft hum, a tender acknowledgment of his words.

"You fallin’ asleep?" he inquired, his footsteps gentle.

"Mhm," you responded, cracking open one eye as you observed his toned, tall figure sauntering towards you, a soft smile gracing your face, "You look incredibly handsome, Gen’."

"Do I, now?" he chuckled, taking a seat beside you. "C'mon, lie on me, pretty," he said with a grin.

“You’re gon’ pull something on me, aren’t you, Gen’?” you slurred, sleep heavy on your tongue. You crawled onto his lap, your thighs enveloping his legs, causing your kimono to loosen even more. With a swift motion, you wrapped your arms around his slender waist. Nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck, as you breathed in his intoxicating scent, finding it utterly captivating.

"Go sleep now," he murmured gently, guiding one of his hands towards your hair, caressing it tenderly as his fingers tangled with the silky strands. His other hand found its place at the curve above your backside, his touch possessive.

Genya was undeniably clingy, though you might not have noticed it immediately. On this particular day, he simply craved a bit more affection.

You were fast asleep, and he remained completely still, holding onto you with a firm grip, cherishing the warmth of your love. Seeing you in such a feeble attire, with your loosely fastened kimono, made him ache with desire.

It seems that he wasn’t only just clingy today.

He wasn't certain how long he had remained stationary, but he began to feel the tingling numbness creeping up his legs. Determined to endure the discomfort just to keep you close was more than enough for him. He wouldn't even consider shifting to alleviate his own discomfort if it meant compromising your comfort in any way.

Until you started stirring in your sleep.

A faint murmur escaped your lips. Your lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck, eliciting a delightful shiver that coursed through his entire being, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

Genya’s grip on your backside tightened, his fist balling into the fabric of your kimono.

He audibly choked as you began to grind against him, rolling against his growing hardness.

“Gen’,” you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he softly cursed. Gently, he eased you away from his shoulder, realizing that you were still unconscious. Carefully, he turned you around, cradling your back against his chest, exposing the graceful curve of your neck.

From his angle, he could see the swelling hardness of your nipples. Your cleavage on full display for him, making him twitch even more.

As you unconsciously swirled your hips once more, a desperate whine escaped your lips, yearning for more friction. The unintended movement only aggravated the situation with your kimono, causing one sleeve to slip from your shoulder, revealing a tantalising glimpse of your plump tit.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he scanned the garden frantically, desperately searching for a God to alleviate his tormenting. As he turned his gaze back to you, he couldn't help but notice your flushed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows. A mix of amusement and desire danced in his eyes as he observed you, lost in the depths of your dream, where your mind wandered to the realm of tantalizingly explicit thoughts.

"Filthy girl," he whispered. Your pretty pink lips were slightly parted, panting softly in sync with the rhythm of your dream-induced excitement. With your chest rising and falling at an abnormal resting pace, he found himself captivated by the sight.

He brought his thick hand onto your exposed skin, his middle and index fingers gently feeling the hastened pulse on your neck before delicately tracing the lines of your collarbone with featherlight touches.

His touch ventured lower, towards that tantalising cleavage of yours. Running a finger through the crevice then to your exposed tit. Tracing the rim of your nipple, entranced with the suppleness and the comparison of his single digit on your skin.

He took your tiny nipple between his thumb and index finger, with a gentle pinch, you instinctively bucked your hips in response, the surge of pleasure coursing through your body. Addicted to your reaction, he repeated the action, this time eliciting a squirm from you. A third pinch brought forth a soft whimper escaping your lips, your body responding to his teasing touch in the most delightful of ways.

His desire for you grew insatiable, and he found himself practically salivating at the sight of your reactions. The way your body responded to his touch, the soft sounds that escaped your lips—it was alluring, intoxicating, and drove him to the brink of madness. He was so fucking hard, his raging length was straining against his Hakama pants.

With his other hand free, he deliberately and slowly pulled at the belt of your kimono, teasing, and taunting himself without any particular reason. In that moment, as both sides of your kimono slipped off your silky body, he swore he had ascended to heaven. You wore absolutely nothing under your kimono.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, his voice a chorus of fervent curses that escaped his lips in a symphony of raw desire.

Your knees remained raised, still encompassing both of his legs, he slowly and deliberately spread his own legs, stretching yours out further. He caught a glimpse of your glistening wetness, his gaze fixated on it as his tongue instinctively darted out.

How delightful you would taste on his fat tongue, and how easy it would be to manoeuvre your pussy onto his face.

He proceeded to glide his hands over the soft plush of your stomach, towards that beautiful spot he needed to feel the most. The spot he often fists himself dreaming about.

Just as he was about to trace you with the pad of his finger, you grabbed his wrist, your small hands struggling to fully encircle his thick wrist. You spoke in a breathless tone, "You've been cruel, Gen'."

He couldn't help but admire the contrast in size, his mouth slightly agape as he leaned his head towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along its delicate curve. In a whispered breath against your ear, he inquired, "How so, love?"

You instinctively attempted to close your legs, finding the attempt futile as he maintained a firm force keeping them spread. “You’ve been disturbing my sleep,” you breathed.

“I can stop,” he tugged on your ear, “You wan’ me to stop?”

You squirmed against him, feeling his thick length pressing against your back. You shook your head quickly, a silent plea for him to continue.

“Words.”

"Don't stop," you urged, your head rolling as you looked up at him through your long lashes. Your plea hung in the air, igniting a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The intensity of your gaze, the vulnerability in your voice, only served to deepen the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, princess," he growled, his voice laced with a primal hunger as he leaned in to claim your lips with a fierce and passionate kiss.

Without breaking away from the heated tangle of your tongues, he resumed his venture down towards your body. One of his hands finding comfort on the curve of your neck, while the other pursued the tit he hadn’t touched yet.

You gasped against his mouth, your eyes shutting tightly as a jolt of pain coursed through your body. The sudden, harsh pinch on your nipple was followed by Genya softly circling his finger on the abused bud.

He peppered kisses along your neck, relishing in the soft sounds that escaped your parted lips. With each tender press of his lips against your heated skin, he delighted in the symphony of pleasure that poured forth from your mouth. The strings of curses and the sweet chant of his name, like an undying mantra, fuelled his own desire.

Genya once again traced the expanse of your soft, swollen stomach, his fingers delicately grazing the plushness before giving a teasing pinch. The unexpected sensation elicited a soft giggle that escaped your lips, quickly followed by a choked moan.

He ran a finger along the slit of your soaking pussy, grazing your clit triggering a violent buck of your hips, “My princess, ‘s fucken wet.” Bringing that soaking finger towards his face, a blush consumed your face. With an unspoken understanding, he met your gaze, his own desire mirroring yours. His lips parted, and with a slow, deliberate movement, he captured his finger between his lips, savouring the intoxicating taste that lingered there.

An audible pop resonated through the air as he released his digit from his pretty puckered lips. Staring deeply into your eyes, he unabashedly said, “Gonna eat you out.”

“Gen-”

“Please let me eat you out,” he pleaded. “If it’s too much pull on my hair, fucken tug till it rips off.”

The unfamiliarity of the situation caught you off guard, as you and Genya had never ventured into such territory before.

"Gen'," you whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to the corners of his lips. “You can eat m’out,” your ears turned a lovely shade of pink.

Your breath hitched in surprise as Genya swiftly pulled you up, his hands firm yet gentle as he effortlessly maneuverer you to face him. In an instant, your plump chest pressed against his, a slight pang of unfairness washed over you as you realised he remained fully clothed.

“Take your shirt off Gen’.” "Yes, princess," he murmured, his voice teasing. With deliberate slowness, he began to remove his shirt, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

Vision clouding, you couldn't help but revel in the sight of his scarred chest. The texture of his skin beneath your fingertips sent a thrill through your body as you traced delicate lines along his defined abs, relishing in the sensation. Your nails continued their exploration, gliding over the ridges and contours of his pecs, grazing over his own pebbled nipples, earning a growl.

“Don’t play with me,” he roughly grabbed your hips. “Sit on my face, pretty girl,” he lowered himself from the trunk of the tree, his back no longer pressed against its rough surface.

An ebbing seed of insecurity took root within you, causing you to hesitate for a moment. Doubt clouded your thoughts, and you found yourself unable to resist asking, "You sure, Gen'?" Your voice trembled slightly.

But without missing a beat, Genya's response came, his voice dripping with desire and unwavering conviction, "Never been so sure in m'life."

He looked incredible from your position, gazing down at the sight of him laid bare and vulnerable, stirred something primal within you. The way his muscles flexed and strained with each movement, the subtle sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, it was a sight reserved exclusively for you.

As you shifted slowly towards his face, his large hands eagerly grasped handfuls of your plush thighs. His gaze remained fixed on yours, a silent reassurance that he was attuned to your every reaction, ready to halt any progression if you showed even the slightest hesitation.

Your glistening core was positioned directly above his beautiful lips. As you hovered there, a hint of a smile graced his face, his eyes crinkling, reassuring you. He took a cautionary lick, the tip of his tongue sliding through your folds.

“Fuck,” his eyes rolled back.

He couldn't resist the temptation as his arms encircled your thighs in an ironclad grip, pulling you even closer to him.

"Genya!" you screeched, feeling the weight of your body pressing down on him. "I'm too heavy."

He locked his burning gaze with yours, "Never heavy, pretty girl," he growled softly. "Don't ever say that shit ‘bout yourself. You're always so perfect for me."

His hands tightened their grip on your thighs, nails creating crescents on your skin.

“You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my fucken eyes on," he continued, his voice husky. "Every curve, every inch of you, all perfect. You're perfect." He kissed the insides of your thighs, bitting into them.

"I want you to feel it in every touch, every kiss. You're mine, and I won't let anyone or anything make you doubt how fucken incredible you are."

You surrendered to the intensity of his gaze, knowing that in his arms, you were cherished, desired, and infinitely perfect.

Genya was absolutely ravenous when making out with your twitching cunt, producing obscene slurping sounds deep within his chest. He detangles one of his arms from your thigh and uses his fingers to spread you open, prodding your tiny hole with the tip of his tongue.

Your body slackened, relinquishing control as you leaned against the sturdy tree trunk. You saw the way his tongue dove into your pussy, and his thick arms pinning you onto him. It made you clench, forehead pressed against the trunk, glistening with sweat from the hot atmosphere and Genya.

“So fucken delicious,” he was panting against your core.

As his tongue dips between your folds, a soft, suppressed whimper escapes your lips, and instinctively you cover your mouth. Genya swiftly seizes your wrist, gently tugging your hand away from your face, pinning it against your thigh. You peered down and saw the mess he had created, of half his face covered in your slick.

Smirking, he continued his ministrations, now forcefully tapping the tip of his fat finger on your clit. Your previously soft whimpers transitioned into wailing, as he vigorously rubbed it, accompanied by his tongue which licked fat stripes up your pussy.

“Gen’, too-,” a strangled moan escaped. “Too much!” You were reaching the peak, afraid to release on his pretty scarred face.

He responded by firmly gripping your hips, which pulled you impossibly closer to his face as your body shook with intensity. He let out another audible pop, “Finish on me, princess.”

With that his lips wrapped around your clit, his finger pistoned in you. Your thoughts gradually dissolved, seeping out of your mind like wisps of smoke. The weight of the moment rendered you limp and pliant, your body yielding to the sensation that was coursing through you.

Genya lapped at the remains of your release, your thighs clamped at the creeping sensation of overstimulation. “M’sorry, pretty. Just so fucken delicious,” he was undeniably drunk on your pussy.

“Another one, princess?” He gave your cunt a kiss.

Shinazugawa's flushed cheeks added a touch of warmth to his typically hostile countenance, illuminating his features with a radiant glow, allowing glimpses of his true self to shine through.

A melodious voice called out your name, gently pulling you back to reality. "You're staring too hard," Kanroji crooned.

Startled, you blinked and refocused your attention, meeting Kanroji's captivating gaze. A warm smile graced her lips, as if she had caught you in a moment of silent admiration.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

Kanroji tilted her head, her expression resembling that of an adorable puppy seeking understanding. "You should tell him," she suggested, a gentle encouragement.

"No," you quickly replied, gathering your thoughts. Your hands were shaky, and you felt fidgety, you continued, "No, I don't think he sees me in that way, Kanroji-san." The words stumbled out.

Her gaze settled upon Shinazugawa, you followed her line of sight, eyes fixed on him. A pang of bittersweet longing surged through your heart, causing your breath to catch in your throat. The sight of him, with his radiant smile stretching across his face, was simply breathtaking. His scars, rather than diminishing his appeal, added a layer of rugged beauty to his features.

In that moment, his arms draped over Rengoku and Uzui, he joined them in a drunken chorus, slurring out musical lyrics. The three of them, cheered each other on with unabashed enthusiasm. It was a scene of uninhibited joy, yet within the depths of your being, a mix of admiration, longing, and a touch of envy intertwined.

Questions echoed in your mind, taunting your innermost doubts. When would you find the courage? When would you gather enough strength? Each time you attempted to reach out to Shinazugawa, the outcome remained the same—silence. His gaze would turn vacant, as if yearning to escape the situation, leaving you feeling disheartened and unsure of how to bridge the widening chasm between you two.

He also possessed an uncanny perceptiveness that astounded you. Shinazugawa had an innate ability to notice even the most subtle cues—an involuntary shake of your hands, the instinctive act of hiding them behind your back, the nervous swallow before speaking to him, and even the times you absentmindedly picked at your skin when your hands found solace in your pockets. Every anxious detail seemed to lay bare before his discerning eyes.

The keenness of his observation left you feeling diminished, as if your insecurities were laid bare for him to see. You longed to shed the burden of anxiety, to rid yourself of the constant unease that plagued your interactions. It was an inner struggle, an insecurity you yearned to overcome.

And whenever he mustered a response, his words stumbled and faltered, as if caught in a perpetual battle within his mind. Each syllable seemed carefully weighed, as if he were constantly revaluating the potential impact of his words on you.

Shinazugawa now pulled Tomioka, drawing him onto his chest. His expression appeared vacant, only willing to endure Shinazugawa's performance for the sake of his special night.

"All right, Shinazugawa, how about we play a little game?" Uzui suggested, his voice laced with mischief. His eyes swept across the room, ensuring he had captured everyone's attention. A wide grin adorned his face.

"Go on, before you bore me," Shinazugawa retorted.

"You have two choices," Uzui declared. "Either you take five shots, or you answer my question." Uzui’s gaze then shifted directly to you, accompanied by a sly wink, leaving you momentarily taken aback.

Shinazugawa didn't miss Uzui’s flirtatious gesture, his sharp eyes catching every detail, "Ask the fucken’ question."

As soon as you were certain that the attention had shifted away from you, you addressed Kanroji. "Kanroji-san, if you'll excuse me, I need to use the toilet," you whispered politely.

With all discreetness, you slipped through the slightly ajar door, seeking a momentary respite. Unconsciously, you took a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding. As you stepped into the hallway, your attention was immediately caught by a fragment of Uzui’s question to Shinazugawa.

“Why do you not tell her how you feel?”

You choked; a glimmer of hope seeped through your body.

You shook your head, coming to realisation that it was best not to dwell on the possibilities any longer and protect yourself. With that in mind, you proceeded to walk away towards the gardens, where the night was at its peak.

As you tottered through the hallway, you could hear the gasps and muffled bewildered comments thrown at Shinazugawa's answer to Uzui’s question.

After a while, you arrived at the lush gardens. Despite the absence of sunlight, the vibrant colours of the flowers and foliage seemed to emanate a soft glow under the gentle moonlight. The tranquillity of the surroundings provided a stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere indoors.

A sense of calm enveloped you, gently washing away the unease that had once gripped your heart. Like the receding tides of the ocean, your worries dissipated, leaving behind a newfound serenity.

As you strolled beneath the stunning Sakura tree, its delicate blossoms in full bloom, you couldn't help but be captivated by the breathtaking sight. The vibrant pink petals adorned the branches, creating a scene of sheer beauty and peace.

You found a comfortable spot underneath the tree, settling into a seat amidst the scattered fallen petals. Gently, you picked up a few of the delicate blossoms, allowing their velvety touch to grace your fingertips. As you marvelled at their fragile beauty, a poignant realisation struck you—you, too, were like those petals, vulnerable and delicate in your own way.

Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you found yourself struggling to fully register your surroundings. However, the distinct sound of gravel crunching beneath footsteps snapped you back to attention. It reverberated through the air, deliberate and unapologetic, as if the person behind it wanted to make their presence known.

Alternatively, it was their drunken state causing them to carelessly tread upon the gravel without concern.

You turned your head, your heart racing as the crunch of gravel grew louder.

"Shinazugawa-san?" you said, bewildered.

He came to a halt right in front of you, and a mix of nervousness washed over you. Your gaze remained fixed downward, hesitant to meet his eyes. The fear of potential humiliation loomed, as you wondered if he would unleash his usual biting remarks and cruel words that he often directed towards others.

Surprisingly, he had never treated you in such a manner before, but you couldn't help but entertain the possibility that this time might be different.

"Thanks for bein' here today," his voice devoid of any slurring, indicating that he was surprisingly sober.

You mustered the courage to respond, "It's a privilege to be able to attend this gathering, Shinazugawa-san.”

He released a weary sigh and settled down beside you, leaning his back against the trunk of the tree. "Why are ya so formal?" he asked.

Feeling your hands tremble slightly, you instinctively clasped them together, hoping to conceal any visible signs of nervousness. Your gaze averted, you hoped that his perceptive eyes wouldn't catch the faint tremor.

"Sorry," you blurted out.

He shifted his face, turning it towards your line of sight, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey," he said, his voice surprisingly soft, “You don't needa' be sorry."

"How was your birthday, Shinazugawa-san?" you inquired, deliberately shifting the conversation away from the previous subject.

He paused for a moment, contemplating your question before responding. "It'll be better soon," he replied.

"Since you'll be rid of my company," you unintentionally blurted out, the words escaping your lips before you had a chance to filter them. You hastily clasped a hand over your mouth.

A silence seemed to settle over the entire garden, as if time itself had paused. Shinazugawa's gaze fixed upon you. Your hand remained pressed against your mouth, trembling.

In that stillness, he reached out with gentle care, taking hold of your wrist. With a tender touch, he guided your hand down, slowly lowering it from your mouth. It felt as delicate as the blossoms that perfectly surrounded the two of you.

"You didn't hear then?" he asked.

As his words registered in your mind, you quickly grasped that he was likely alluding to his answer to Uzui’s earlier question. Your head instinctively shook slightly.

"Well, would ya like to know?" he delicately offered.

You couldn't help but gaze at him, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and a touch of hope. With a whisper that carried a gentle vulnerability, you responded, "Yes."

His eyes softened, a subtle transformation that sent a cascade of emotions through your being. Your heart skipped a beat, as if it had momentarily forgotten its steady rhythm. The sight before you was breathtaking — Shinazugawa, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, sat beneath the blooming sakura tree, a vision of captivating beauty.

"I told ‘em that she was too precious," his hand gently held onto your wrist, his fingers tracing the delicate contours, searching for the quick rhythmic dance of your pulse.

"That I can't bear the thought of taintin’ her being with my scarred body, mind, and soul." His voice quivered with a hint of self-doubt.

"She’s the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my entire life," he confessed. His fingers continued to trace your pulse, as if he sought solace in its booming beat.

"And so fucken’ delicate, kind, and caring," he murmured, his touch and words intertwining.

It felt like a dream, one of those elusive visions that often danced through your slumber, filling your heart with both hope and despair. In those dreams, you would immerse yourself in a world where such tender confessions and heartfelt connections existed, only to wake and face the crushing disappointment of their impossibility.

"And," he paused for a moment, his gaze tenderly fixed on your face, "ya have the cutest smile." His voice held a mixture of adoration, as if he was genuinely captivated by the mere thought of your smile.

Your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. A hint of incredulity coloured your voice as you responded, "Shinazugawa-san, you’re drunk."

"No," he whispered, his voice filled with conviction, as he gently brought your wrist towards his lips. The soft touch of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine. With a tenderness that took your breath away, he pressed his lips against the spot where your pulse beat the strongest, leaving a lingering warmth in its wake.

"I'm in love," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled up in your eyes, brimming with a mix of overwhelming emotions. A choked sob escaped from the depths of your soul, a raw and unfiltered release of the pent-up feelings that had been hidden for far too long. It was a moment of catharsis, a floodgate opening to allow the weight of your emotions to pour forth.

Your wrist was gently pulled towards him, causing your body to sway and find its place against his sturdy chest. The warmth emanating from his body enveloped you, offering a sense of comfort and security. In the hushed stillness of the moment, his voice carried a tender whisper, as if sharing a secret meant for your ears alone.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his words mingling with the soft breeze that rustled through the garden.

As his warm breath caressed your ear, a delicate shiver coursed through your entire being, a poignant reminder of the electrifying connection that bound your souls together. Surprisingly, amidst the intoxicating moment, the lingering scent of sake was clearly absent.

With a tenderness that belied his usual demeanour, he gently peeled your face away from his chest, his hands cupping each side of your face with a feather-light touch. The pads of his thumbs daintily brushed away the remnants of tears that stained your cheeks, erasing the evidence of your vulnerability.

“So fucken’ beautiful,” he praised. Each affectionate comment washed away the doubt that plagued your overwhelming mind.

He lowered his head with utmost gentleness, his lips barely grazing your forehead in a tender kiss. As he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, you felt a sense of belonging that resonated deep within your soul.

Nestled against his solid chest, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a rhythmic lullaby that whispered of love and devotion.

“I thought you hated me,” you quietly admitted.

"Never," he whispered, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. "You," his voice softened, carrying a tenderness that melted your heart, "ya have a way of charmin’ me, makin’ me speechless."

A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he admitted, "So cute that I find myself at a loss for words sometimes.” In that moment, you realised that his silence was not a reflection of indifference or apathy, but rather a testament to the profound impact you had on him.

His admission brought a blush to your cheeks, the realisation that your presence had the power to disarm even the most guarded parts of him.

A mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you hastily pulled yourself away from his chest, creating a small gap between the two of you. Shinazugawa looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What?" he asked, his voice filled with intrigue.

Your gaze flickered towards his lips, an undeniable longing pulsating within you. It was a desire you had kept hidden for far too long, yearning to feel the softness of his lips against every inch of your skin. With a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth, you raised a finger, gently tracing its tip along his plush, inviting lips.

A faint shiver ran down his spine as your touch grazed his skin, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes locked onto yours, the air around you seemed charged with an electric energy, a silent invitation hanging between you.

With a gentle yet undeniable pull, you closed the distance between you, your finger falling to your side. Your lips met his in a delicate and tender kiss, a collision of pent-up emotions and shared longing. Time seemed to stand still as the warmth of his lips pressed against yours, igniting a fire within your souls.

In that stolen moment of connection, you revelled in the softness of his kiss, the way his lips moulded perfectly against yours. It was a dance of vulnerability and desire, a silent proclamation of the love that had blossomed between you. Each brush of his lips against yours spoke volumes, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture.

As you finally pulled away, a soft smile played upon your lips, your eyes locked with his. The taste of his kiss still lingered upon your lips, intertwining with the warmth that filled your heart.

"Happy birthday, Sanemi," you whispered.

Sanemi's eyes softened, he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch filled with tenderness. "Thank you," he replied, his voice a gentle murmur. "You're the best gift I coulda’ received."

The garden around you, adorned with blossoming flowers, appeared even more vibrant and alive. The world seemed to celebrate your union, as if whispering its blessings upon the love that had taken root between you.

Hand in hand, you walked back towards the joyful gathering, the echoes of laughter and celebration growing louder with each step. As you returned to the festivities, your hearts entwined, you knew that this birthday would forever be etched in your memories as the start of a beautiful and transformative chapter in both your lives.

As the afternoon wore on, the warm auburn sunlight flooded the room, penetrating your closed eyelids. Its intensity made you wince. Although the bathwater was still warm, it felt cold against your flushed skin as you sat upright in the tub, droplets trickling down.

Your mind raced with thoughts, and your body struggled to keep up with your carnal imagination and fantasies. You knew they were only that—fantasies and dreams.

So why did your skin feel clammy? Why did your blood rush through your veins like molten lava? And why were your knees pressed tightly together beneath the water?

Despite your desire to deceive yourself, you knew the truth all too well.

It's torture that your mind constantly wanders to thoughts of him, tormenting that he pervades even the tiniest crevices of your consciousness. It's agonizing that every time you encounter him, you can't help but imagine the possibilities of what he could do to you. The pain is excruciating.

Even more so when your fingers slowly traced a certain path to your centre. Your knees parting, slightly trembling under the cover of the pristine water. Shuddering, goosebumps started to protrude your skin as your fingers pressed against that aching, needy spot between your legs.

You let out a breathy moan as you drew lazy circles with the tip of your finger.

All the while imagining, wondering even, how he would feel, pressed against your pussy.

Would he be gentle with his touch? Savouring your body trembling beneath him, delighting in your moans and whimpers just by the soft caress of his touch. Or would he be rough? Taking you as he wants to, relishing the gasps and screams that escape your lips as he exerts his dominance over you. Rough in the best way possible, with your back bowing, throat exposed, and hands coiled so tight it turns white.

Would he only use his fingers, hands? As he grips your waist till it bruises, handprints on your ass if you were disobedient and around your throat, as a necklace that only he can provide you.

Your chest was rising and falling quicker, fingers speeding up and with your other hand, you reached up towards your breasts, pinching your nipple to add a side of pain.

His mouth, oh his lethal fucking mouth, would destroy your sanity, whether it’d be on your lips, neck or lower.

You fantasise about all the sinful things he’d do with that beautiful mouth of his. You imagine him kissing you lower, towards your chest as he licks over your nipples, tugging on them with his teeth and sucking like it was the last thing he’d do.

Then he’d go lower until he reached your centre, where you would need him the most. He’d look up at you through his lashes and grab your tit in one hand as he’d press teasing kisses on the soft insides of your thighs, relishing in your scent and the scene of your arousal as he uses his fingers to spread you out.

Or would he simply devour you? Lip his fat tongue on your pussy and delve straight into your hole like a crazed male. It shouldn’t be a question; he was the type of person to eat pussy like it was his utter last meal.

Your fingers slipped in, hitting the spot that had you seeing stars. Water now quivering from the sudden tremors you’re creating. Your back bowed in the tub and the tightness in your core sent you plunging towards a delightful release.

You swore softly under your breath, clapping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from calling his name out.

Considerably difficult as you thought of his cock. Huge, hard and heavy. Veins welling and red at the tip just aching for you to touch it, palm him and run your small hand over it, to drop onto your knees in front of him and suck him off. Would he taste good like the rest of his skin?

Would he be salty, an addicting taste you wouldn’t stop tasting till the end of the week? You’d circle your tongue around his fat cock, coating it with your spit and revel in his taste. You’d do your best to take him fully into you.

Would he let you see it through, or would he ball his fist in your hair and thrust deep into your mouth no matter your limit? Let himself finish on your tongue or spurt it on your face, making you lap every single drop he gave you.

Or would he have other, more sinful ideas?

Your bond with Kanae-sama was as tight as any sibling relationship could be. Shinobu-sama recognised your deep connection with her biological sister and would even let her strict personality slip around you. From dawn until dusk, you trained with Kanae-sama and shared meals with her every evening. You were inseparable, to the point where Shinobu-sama had to physically intervene to separate the two of you. 

Until she died at the hands of Upper Moon 2. The news spread like wildfire, and you threw yourself into training with tireless resolve, determined to become the Tsuguko that Kanae-sama had hoped for. 

Kanao and Shinobu-sama were worried about you day and night, and despite Kanao's silent presence, she never left your side. She was aware of the hole in your heart that may never be filled again after Kanae-sama's death. 

A part of you, gone. 

“You’re not going to like this,” Aoi said as a way of greeting. She was standing at the sliding door of yours and Shinobu-sama’s research room. 

“Aoi-chan,” you looked up at her from your microscope. “What are you unhappy about now?” You teased. 

“Oh, it’s not me who's going to be unhappy,” Aoi said, giving you a knowing smile. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity as you heard a pair of unfamiliar footsteps approaching. 

Aoi stepped aside and introduced you to the boy. "This is Shinobu-sama's Tsuguko," she said, "She'll be giving you frequent check-ups, so please treat her with respect." Her words dripped with venom as she added, "And if you don't, I'll poison your medication." 

The boy stood in the same spot where Aoi had been moments before, his impressive height looming over her. He donned the uniform of a demon slayer, and his muscular physique strained against the tight sleeves. As you observed him closely, you couldn't help but count the numerous scars that littered his body. 

You also couldn't help but notice the unruly, unevenly cut hair on his head that resembled a rooster's comb. 

“You’re fucken kiddin’ me,” were his first words. 

You smiled in realisation, remembering clearly where you first met this boy.

Upon reaching the mountain top, you both were met with the discord of yelling and bodies shifting aggressively on the cobblestone path. 

“This is for starin’ at me, ya yellow-headed freak,” the boy shouted as he grabbed the other young boy by his yellow kimono. 

The examinees were scattered, murmuring, yet none intervened. 

“I WASN’T STARING AT YOU!” He shrieked. 

Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. 

“Ya were, dickwad,” the boy replied, his fist raised menacingly. 

Without hesitation, you swiftly made your way towards the boy, grabbing his wrist tightly. 

“It’s rude to assault strangers,” you said calmly, a smile plastered onto your face. 

"The fuck," he said aggressively as he tried to retract his wrist from your grasp, you tightened your grip even more. 

The yellow-haired boy fled the moment he saw an opening, tears streaming down his cheeks as he trembled uncontrollably. 

“Let go, bitch,” he spat out, face turning red. 

Kanao took a step toward him, a silent threat emanating from her. 

“It’s okay, Kanao,” you said kindly, “Some people are unfortunate to not have been taught basic manners.” 

The bystanders began to chuckle lightly. 

"One day, I hope he learns to be kind," you said, twisting his wrist firmly. "Otherwise, his attitude will be the death of him." You then took hold of his elbow, manoeuvring it into a lock and guided him towards the ground. 

A resonating thump followed as he hollered below you. 

“YOU FUCKEN BITCH I’LL SLAUGHTER YOU!” 

“Your attitude has not changed since then it seems,” you stood, slowly walking towards him. 

He had grown an incredible amount in the short time since you last saw him, a clear indication of Himejima's rigorous training regimen and, most likely, his constant consumption of demon flesh. 

"Thank you for bringing him here, Aoi-chan," you said, the boy was staring back at you with a bewildered expression. "You may go now," you added, dismissing Aoi with a nod of your head. 

“Please come in,” you said, turning and leading the way towards the working desk, where there were two chairs on opposite sides of the table. “Please take a seat,” you gestured towards one of the chairs, noticing that the boy was still standing by the door. 

"I'm not coming in," he declares, looking down the hallway, averting his gaze. 

"Why is that? I won't bite," you joke with a friendly smile. But the boy remains rooted to the spot. 

“What’s your name?” you asked politely. 

“None of your business,” he snapped back. 

“Okay, none of your business,” he scoffed at that. “I’m going to be putting my valuable time and efforts into you-” 

“That was your choice,” he cut you off rudely.

Classic 

“Himejina-san informed me all about your case,” You walked towards the cabinet, situated on the far side of the room, where you stored all sorts of medicinal concoctions. Your gaze scanned the shelves, searching for the specific one you needed, after a few moments of searching, you finally found the right vial and walked back towards him. 

As you approached him, you noticed he was watching you every step of the way. You held out the vial and said, "I've created this specifically for your special case. It's designed to help mitigate any extraneous effects that may arise." 

The boy's eyes narrowed sceptically as he glanced back and forth between you and the vial. He hesitated before finally speaking up, "What if you poisoned this shit?" 

"Don't worry," you said. "It's completely safe.” 

He took the vial and inspected it closely. "Should you ever feel overwhelmed with the powers of the demons you consume, this should help ease it," you explained. "I recommend that you drink a tablespoon every half day and come back to me every week to check in on your progress." 

You took a step back from him and flashed a teasing smile. "And maybe then, you'll finally feel comfortable enough to share your name with me!" 

His face contorted into an irked expression, and he turned to walk away upon hearing your comment. As he strode down the hallway, you noticed him tuck the vial into his pocket and observed his ears turning red. 

A few days later, a group of three new demon slayers arrived at the Butterfly Mansion and were granted the privilege of staying there. You recognised each one of them from the mountain top of the final selection. Among them was the yellow-haired boy named Zenitsu, who seemed to recognise you even more. He took a considerable liking to you, constantly fawning whenever he catches sight of you. 

But what surprised everyone was the presence of a demon among them. It was unprecedented to have a demon among the ranks of the demon slayers; however, despite this, you have taken a liking in investigating the demon named Nezuko. 

Kanae-sama had a goal of eventually living in peace with demons. If Kanae-sama were here, she would have loved Nezuko, a sweet young girl who can easily be seen as a younger sister figure to almost anyone. 

“Zenitsu-san, your drool is creating a puddle on the ground,” you said as you were training. 

He sighed dreamily, “You’re so radiant, etherial, powerful-” 

You promptly resumed your training as Zenitsu's words started to sound like white noise. 

As he continued to ogle over you, another presence approached the training grounds. He stopped immediately upon seeing you training, his eyes scanning over your movements with interest. 

He watched as you effortlessly destroyed every single bamboo target with just a few swings of your Nichirin blade. Your movements were so swift and precise, as if you were dancing through the air. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy and spite as he watched you move with such ease and grace. 

He wondered how many hours of practice and dedication it must have taken to reach such a level of skill. 

He could tell that you had been a Tsuguko for quite some time, likely honing your skills through rigorous training and practice. If you continued at this pace, he couldn't help but wonder if you might become a Hashira in a matter of months. And what was even more impressive was that you would be the second youngest among the Hashira, which made your potential all the more remarkable. 

The thought of someone else reaching such a high level of skill and potential while he remained stagnant infuriated him. It stung even more because he had always wanted to impress his brother, the only person he ever truly wanted to please. But seeing your abilities, he couldn't help but feel like he would never be good enough in his brother's eyes. 

You turned around, a smirk spreading across your face as beads of sweat rolled down your serene complexion. "Oh, didn’t see you there," you said with a chuckle. "I'm glad you came back."

Zenitsu's eyes snapped to where you were now looking and he yelped, "SCARY MAN!" 

The boy turned to face Zenitsu and said, "Piss off, creep.” 

His words made Zenitsu run to where his other two companions were within the mansion. 

You headed towards the engawa, where a carafe of water was waiting for you. As you walked away, he couldn't help but survey the damage you had done to all of your targets. It was clear that you had accomplished it all without using any specific techniques, leaving him in awe. "How did you do that?" he blurted out. 

As you finished gulping the water, swiping the rouge droplets from your chin you asked, “Do what?” 

He pointed towards the targets, now reduced to mere fragments joining with the dirt on the ground. 

You let out a small laugh, "How did I do it without using any breathing technique?" You walked towards his side, "You're quite observant. How about you tell me your name and I'll teach you a thing or two?" You teased. 

"Genya Shinazugawa," he replied straight to the point. 

You grinned and said, "I meditate for an hour every morning and night." 

He looked at you with disbelief and asked, "Ya kidding, right?" He visibly deflated and continued, "Ya tellin’ me you sit on your ass and breathe for two hours a day? That's fucken ridiculous," his tone laced with disdain. 

"You'll understand one day," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice, and then pivoted on your heel. "Let's start your check-up, Genya-san." 

“Take off your shirt,” you instructed. 

Genya stuttered in surprise, “What?” 

As you reached for the stethoscope from the table drawer, you said, "I need to listen to your lungs and heart for any defects.” 

“Oh.” 

Respecting Genya's privacy, you continued facing the opposite direction as he removed his upper layers. You could hear the rustling of clothes and then the sound of them falling to the floor. Once you sensed that he had finished, you turned around to face him. 

You couldn't help but marvel at his physique. At his age, he was unbelievably ripped with muscles and scars that seemed to accentuate his sculpted form, as if he was crafted from the finest quality marble. You rubbed your eyes, pretending as if something had gotten into them and then looked at him, only to find that he was already staring back at you. 

“Please have a seat,” you gestured towards the chair beside the table. 

He complied, appearing to be more cooperative than before. You pulled a stool in front of him and noticed him tense up, every muscle in his body taut. 

You clenched your jaw, put on the earpieces, and carefully placed the stethoscope on his left pectoral, listening to the booming beat of his heart.

 "Why is your heart beating so quickly, Genya-san?" You prodded, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"Drank tea," he replied too quickly. 

As you removed the stethoscope from his pectoral and stood up, you noticed that he was staring out the window. 

"Are you nervous, Genya-san?" you asked, trying to provoke a response. 

He snapped his eyes toward you. "Fuck no," he said, his voice tense. 

You towered over him as he remained seated in the chair, observing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched and his hands balled up in fists. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly walked around to his back and brought the stethoscope above his scapula. 

“Genya-san,” you said softly. 

"What?" he said sharply. 

"Your lungs aren't expanding and contracting properly," you pointed out, a clear indication that he was holding his breath. "I'm going to need you to take some deep breaths for me."

Reluctantly, he complied and you listened carefully to his breathing. His lungs seemed to be contracting more than they should for someone at rest. 

You took a step back and removed the stethoscope, gaping at the size of his back. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to clear the improper thoughts that had crept into your mind. 

He hastily gathered the clothes lying on the floor and put them on. “Has the medicine been helpful to you in any way?” you asked. 

He responded with a grunt. 

“I need you to respond verbally, Genya-san,” you insisted. 

“Yes,” he snapped. 

"Very well," you said, making your way to the table and focusing on the array of ingredients on your shelves, trying to regain your composure. 

"You're healthy. I'll just need you to avoid drinking tea before our next check-up," you concluded. 

You heard the sound of the door sliding opening. "Please close the door on your way out," you said delicately, not turning around to face him. He did exactly that, saying nothing but walking out of the room. You swore under your breath. 

As he sped down the hallway, his mind raced and his heart pounded with a sense of urgency. 

He knew he couldn't deal with you anymore. The thought of being trapped within four walls with you made his stomach leap, a clear indication of disgust.

Your soft spoken voice, loving eyes and kind touches had a way of making him feel at ease. He couldn't help but notice how you treated everyone with kindness, even those who mistreated you. It was intoxicating and he couldn't comprehend how someone could be so selfless. 

Your angel eyes saw good in many evil, it was something that both repulsed and charmed him at the same time. He couldn't understand how you could be so forgiving and compassionate, yet he found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

As he rushed out of the mansion, he bumped into a red-headed boy, barely registering his presence. The boy yelled something after him, but all Genya could think of was getting away from you. He needed to breathe, to clear his head, because the more he allowed himself to be drawn towards you, the more his carefully constructed plan to reach his brother began to crumble. 

He knew he couldn't afford to let himself catch feelings for you. It would only make things more complicated and could jeopardise everything he had worked so hard for. But the more he thought about you, the more he found himself unable to resist your angelic nature. 

Genya's frustration boiled over as he ran his hands through his hair, yanking on his locks in anger. "FUCK!" he shouted, lashing out and kicking a nearby rock, sending it careening into the trees. 

Today was the day of another weekly checkup. 

You were prepared, steeling yourself to remain professional and composed despite the tension that lingered between you. 

As you waited for Genya's arrival, you reviewed your notes and made sure everything was in order. Despite trying to remain composed, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. 

It was a little late, later than he had previously arrived. You tried to push the feeling aside, reminding yourself that anything could have delayed him and it was better to wait patiently. 

The sun had already set and the night stars were becoming prominent outside your window. 

"Where is he?" you muttered to yourself, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

You couldn't help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the appointment, perhaps because of his stubborn nature or his reluctance to be confined in the medical room. 

So be it, Genya. 

Despite trying to distract yourself with training, your thoughts kept wandering back to Genya. It had been several days since you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder where he was and what he was doing. 

But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your role as a mentor to Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu. You spent long hours helping them hone their skills and improve their techniques. Tanjiro, in particular, showed remarkable progress and you couldn't help but feel proud of him. 

"Tanjiro-san, you're improving at an astonishing rate!" You praised him. 

"It's all thanks to everyone here, including you," he replied with a grin. 

One of the things that made you happiest was being able to help others. You had a big heart and always went out of your way to offer assistance, even when it wasn't necessary. Seeing others improve and achieve their goals gave you a sense of fulfilment that was hard to describe. 

"You too Inosuke-san, well done!" You gave his arm a genuine squeeze, acknowledging his effort. 

Inosuke mumbled something behind his mask, but you could sense the delight in his tone. 

Zenitsu, on the other hand, couldn't help but interject. 

"But what about me,” he whined. "Am I improving too?" 

"Well, Zenitsu-san, you're definitely...trying," you said diplomatically. 

Zenitsu pouted, clearly hoping for more praise, but you knew he had a lot of work to do before he could truly become a skilled demon slayer. 

Despite his flaws, however, you couldn't help but feel a soft spot for him. You looked around the training grounds and realised you needed to get back to your research. 

"I'll leave you all to your training," with a wave goodbye, you turned and walked away while they bowed in response. 

As you strode, you heard the sound of yelling and pleading coming from inside the mansion.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickened your pace and soon noticed droplets of blood on the hardwood floor. Your hand instinctively reached for the hilt of your sword. 

Running, you followed the trails of blood and desperate cries, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Finally, you skidded to a stop, frozen at the sight before you. 

Genya had always been aware of the risks that came with being a demon slayer. But this particular demon had been stronger than he had anticipated and had managed to inflict injuries that were more severe than he was used to.

Genya relied on consuming the flesh of other demons to heal his own wounds, but this time he had not been successful in consuming a single thing from the demon. This lack of regeneration made the wounds even more excruciating and difficult to deal with. 

Despite the pain, his first thought was to find you, the medical expert who could treat his injuries. He knew that he needed your help to heal and get back on his feet. With that in mind, he had managed to make his way to the mansion, gritting his teeth through the pain as he focused on reaching you. 

Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi trembled in fear as Genya strode through the gates of the Butterfly Mansion, paying no heed to his open wounds. 

He was stubborn to reach you. He trusted only you to treat him or even touch him. 

Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving a trail on the floorboards of the mansion as he made his way towards your office. He ignored the cries of the three girls, driven solely by the hunger to reach you. 

“You’re dripping blood on the floor, please stop!” Naho begged. 

“Let us help you, Genya-sama, it will only get worse!” Kiyo added. 

“Shut up,” he snarled. He didn't mean to sound so hostile, but he needed to reach you without distractions. 

The sound of the girls’ screams echoed in Genya’s ears as he shoved his way towards your office, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every step. 

His hand left bloody smears on the door as he pushed it open, desperate to find you. But when he stumbled into the room, he found it empty. 

His vision was blurry, and he was seeing spots, the pain almost unbearable. He staggered backwards, using the wall to steady himself as he tried to call out for you. 

Suddenly, he heard the skid of someone stopping behind the three girls who were still screaming in terror. He turned his head, his eyes fixing on you as you stood there with your hand on the hilt of your sword. 

You were frozen in place, clearly shocked by the bloody and battered figure of him. 

“Genya Shinazugawa!” You gasped in shock, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth. 

You gently moved Sumi out of the way to reach him. As you got closer, you saw the bloody handprints on the door and the exhaustion on Genya's face. Your heart sank at the sight of his injuries. 

“Please prepare the first aid materials in the infirmary,” you commanded the three girls, they ran quickly. 

"Genya, what happened?" You asked, your voice trembling with concern as you took a closer look at him. 

“Demon,” he said softly. “In a lotta pain,” he added. 

You nodded, your mind already racing with what needed to be done. "Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said. 

You gently took Genya's hand and led him towards the infirmary, careful not to aggravate his wounds. Despite the excruciating pain he must have been experiencing, he stiffened at the sudden contact. You noticed this and quickly dropped your hand, apologising, "Sorry, I should have asked." 

Genya grabbed your hand and held it tightly. "No," he said, "I liked it." 

Your eyes widened at his bold statement, and a blush crept onto your face. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you led him into the infirmary.

After a few hours of tending to Genya's wounds, he finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a deep slumber. 

You sat by his bedside, watching over him as he slept. As you gazed at him, you noticed how peaceful he looked, with his breathing slow and steady. 

With your heightened senses, you slowly turned to catch a glimpse of a white-haired man standing silently by the door. 

He lifted his index finger to his lips, signalling for you to stay quiet. 

You nodded in understanding, still surprised by his unexpected arrival. 

He sat himself softly on Genya's bed and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. Your eyes widened as you pieced together the resemblance between the two of them. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa left a kiss on his brother's forehead. 

After Sanemi finished looking at his brother, satisfied with the amount of care given to him, he walked towards you and whispered in your ear, “Thank you.” He then walked out of the room. 

The next morning, you decided to bring breakfast to Genya, wanting to compensate for his sore body with a meal served in bed. As you entered the room, you found him sitting up and staring out of the window, watching the lush trees dance in the fresh air. 

"Good morning," you greeted him with a beautiful smile, holding a tray of food in your hands. 

"Mornin’," he grumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered at the sound of his voice. 

"I brought you some food," you said, making your way to him. "May I sit?" you gestured towards the bed. 

"Feel free," he replied softly. 

You sat down next to him and placed the food on his lap, pouring a glass of water from his side table. Genya was about to grab a spoonful of food for himself, but you gave him a warning glance. 

"What?" he looked confused. 

You took the spoon from his fingers and guided it to his mouth, feeding him yourself. 

His face turned bright red as he promptly covered it with his large hand, grabbing your wrist. "I can feed myself," he whispered. 

"I know," you replied with a teasing smile. "But I can't help enjoy seeing you blush.” 

He stared at you intently, as if searching for something in your eyes. 

“You need to eat, Genya-san,” you reminded him. 

He opened his mouth and you brought the spoonful of food towards him. He gratefully accepted it and sighed in satisfaction after swallowing it. Then, you brought the glass of water to his cracked lips. 

Water escaped from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb, but as soon as your skin made contact with his, you felt a jolt run through you. You looked up at him and noticed that his eyes had clouded over and his ears were red. 

"I'M SO JEALOUS!" Zenitsu exclaimed loudly. 

"Shut up!" Inosuke swatted Zenitsu’s head. 

Genya turned his attention to the door, where Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Tanjiro were peeking in. 

"Get. The. Fuck. Out!" Genya bellowed, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Nezuko-chan," you said while sitting on the engawa, gently smoothing out her hair. She was lying on your lap as the two of you basked in the moonlight. 

She let out an enthusiastic hum, and her small hands reached up to grasp yours, nuzzling her cheek against your palm. 

The gesture made your heart swell with warmth, and you couldn't help but think that this is how Kanae-sama must have felt when you were younger. 

You chuckled softly as you noticed Genya’s attempting to spy on the two of you from the hallways of the mansion. "Ganya-san thinks I can't see him spying on us," you said with amusement. 

He made his presence even more obvious by speaking up, "Ya know you got a demon on your lap, right?" he said. 

"I am most aware," you smiled at him. 

The moonlight highlighted your features even more, making you look ethereal. 

"Why do you smile," he asked, his curiosity piqued. "When you feel so angry all the time?" 

His sudden analysis caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a little surprised. 

Nezuko gazed up at you, her eyes full of curiosity and admiration. You couldn't help but think of Kanae-sama and how she used to play with your hair in the same way you were now with Nezuko. 

Genya's words had stirred up memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of her loss came flooding back. Your throat started to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. "Fuck," Genya was taken aback by your sudden change in attitude.

Nezuko's sudden embrace took you by surprise. You cried hard on her shoulder, the memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of losing her flooded back to you. Your tears wet her kimono, but she didn't seem to mind. It was as if she understood your pain, despite being a demon. 

Genya watched with a mixture of confusion and concern. He had never seen this side of you before, and it made him realise how little he knew about you. He always saw you as the kind-hearted person with a beautiful smile on your face, always ready to help anyone in need. 

It was difficult for him to see you in so much pain, and he didn't know how to comfort you. 

He hesitantly placed a hand on your head, and you made a muffled sound of surprise from the sudden touch. You turned around and looked at him through your wet lashes, tears still running down your cheeks. 

“I got you,” he said, looking you in the eyes and giving you soft smile. 

He sat down next to you, allowing his shoulder to touch yours. You felt a flutter in your chest at the contact and didn't dare move, afraid the moment might end. 

You looked down to check on Nezuko, she had fallen asleep in your embrace.

Genya's took your hand in his, it was so warm in yours as he ran his thumb along your knuckles. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being close to him as you both gazed up at the night sky. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Genya shifted slightly, looking down at you. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "So beautiful."

Two months had passed since Genya started his frequent check-ups, and your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful. You found comfort and joy in each other's company, and Genya seemed to have found a sense of purpose being around you. 

On this particular day, the two of you were sitting on the engawa, overlooking the stunning garden of the butterfly mansion. The fragrant scent of flowers wafted through the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves added to the serene atmosphere. 

You had previously mentioned to Genya that you would meditate for two hours a day, and he had expressed interest in joining you. 

Sitting in silence, Genya found it increasingly difficult to stay still. His legs were losing feeling, his nose was itching, and he was just so close yet so far from you. It was pissing him off that he couldn't hold your hand, kiss your forehead, or have you play with his hair. 

As he tried to resist the urge to sneeze, Genya's nose continued to twitch uncontrollably. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable sitting in silence next to you, struggling to maintain stillness during meditation. He wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, feel the warmth of your touch, or have you play with his hair. But he knew that any movement on his part would break the stillness of the moment. 

Despite his discomfort, he refused to touch his nose. He had noticed that you had an amazing sense of spatial awareness, and he didn't want to risk breaking the peaceful atmosphere with even the slightest movement. So, he tried to hold on as long as possible, hoping the sneeze would subside on its own. 

It did not, it only got worst. 

He slowly opened one eye, feeling a bit apprehensive about disturbing your meditation, but then he couldn't resist the urge to steal a glance at you. However, he quickly regretted it when he realised that you were already staring back at him, a small smile on your face. 

"Have you been starin’ at me all this fucken time?" he snarled. 

"Yep," you chirped. 

"You little-" Genya was about to say something but you jumped up, giggling, and ran towards the garden. 

As you both tumbled to the grass, laughter filled the air. You could feel the soft blades of grass tickling your skin as Genya playfully pinned you down, his weight making it impossible for you to move. You looked up at him, his chest heaving from the chase, his eyes burning with mischief. 

You playfully pouted, pretending to be upset that Genya had caught you, but your smile gave you away. 

Genya couldn't help but notice the pout on your lips, and his eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and mouth. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should make a move, but before he could do anything, you took the initiative. 

You pulled him towards you and pressed your lips against his. 

He was frozen at first, hands grabbing chunks of grass in an attempt to restrict himself, but he couldn't resist your allure. You whispered his name, which undid him, and he responded by deepening the kiss. 

As the kiss broke, both of you were left breathless. Genya looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with emotion. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, while he pulled you onto his lap. 

For a few moments, both of you remained entranced in each other's presence, the world around you fading away as your hearts beat as one. 

The Hashira’s sat in stunned silence; their eyes widened in surprise as they beheld the figure before them. Your presence was palpable, your power radiating from every pore of your being, sending shivers down their spines. As you drew closer, they could see the determination burning in your eyes, and the confidence with which you moved was almost otherworldly. Your footsteps were so quiet that you seemed to blend into the air around you, as if you were a being of pure elegance. When you finally reached Ubuyashiki, you bowed with such grace that even the stone garden seemed to hold its breath in reverence.

Ubuyashiki's gentle voice reverberated through the garden as he greeted you, "How wonderful it is to have you among us." His kind eyes scanned the gathered Hashiras before he continued, "Allow me to introduce our newest member," the weight of their collective gaze fell upon you. You stood tall and met their stares with unwavering confidence, “The Night Hashira,” he continued.

“I am deeply grateful for this honour, Oyakata-sama, and to stand among the esteemed Hashiras." As the words left your lips, a sudden surge of power erupted from within you, causing even the stoic Tomioka to choke in response. The air around you seemed to hum with electricity as the other Hashiras eyes widened in awe. Tengen let out a low whistle of admiration. "Well, well, well," he said, his trademark smirk appearing on his lips, "I think we're in for a real treat with this one."

“Please, make her feel welcomed,” as Ubuyashiki's words reached your ears, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his kind gesture. A soft smile graced your lips as you bowed your head in acknowledgement, hiding the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Thank you, Oyakata-sama," you whispered, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your voice. With that, Ubuyashiki left the engawa, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, leaving you alone with the Hashiras.

You knew that earning their approval would not be an easy task, but you were determined to prove yourself worthy of your new title.

"Hello- Hi! I'm Mitsuri Kanroji," exclaimed the young woman with thick, greenish-pink locks, her voice filled with enthusiasm. She flashed you a bright smile. Beside her stood a short boy, half of his face obscured by bandages, with striking heterochromatic eyes. "And this is Obanai Iguro," she introduced her companion, who offered a polite nod in your direction.

“Shinobu Kocho,” said a young woman with hair in shades of purple.

“Ah, hello. It’s an honour to be introduced to all of you,” you said with a bow. “I apologize for my abrupt entrance,” you added.

Kanroji beamed with a warm smile, “Oh, no need to apologize, we’re happy to have you here! It's great to see another woman among the ranks. We'll finally have someone who can help keep these boys in line," she teased, winking playfully.

Kocho chuckled softly, "Yes, indeed. There's too much testosterone in this group. A little bit of feminine charm might do them some good," she added with a sly smile.

"This is ridiculous," a voice interrupted from behind you, causing Kocho’s face to turn sour.

You turned around to see a man with scars littering his body. Despite his rough exterior, you found his scars strangely attractive, a testament to the battles he must have fought. However, his attitude was far from attractive.

"You, a Hashira? We ain't ever seen you fight or train," he sneered, his eyes scanning you up and down with a smirk. "Who said ya got the capabilities? I've seen enough to know you're just a weakling who got lucky."

“Shinazugawa-san," the tallest one warned sharply. The girlish-looking boy spoke up, "He does have a point. If she proves herself, she might be worthy of our approval."

"You're entitled to your opinion," you replied calmly, your voice echoing through the garden as you met Shinazugawa’s piercing gaze. "But let me tell you, I didn't get here by sitting idly. I have faced countless demons and emerged victorious from each encounter. So, I assure you that I'm more than capable of holding my own in battle."

Your words hung in the air, and for a moment, he started prowling towards you, his steps slow and calculating, as if he was sizing up his prey.

As Shinazugawa drew closer, you couldn't help but notice the scent of sandalwood and lavender emanating from him, a combination that was both soothing and intense. It was a stark contrast to the scars that criss-crossed his muscular body.

Finally, he stopped a healthy distance in front of you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of weakness. You held his gaze, unflinching, until he finally spoke. "You talk big shit, but it’s all cheap," his teeth were gritted. "Actions speak louder than words, so show me what you can do, bitch," he spat venomously.

“Oi, Shinazugawa-san that’s enough-“

Your hand instinctively reached for the hilt of your Nichirin sword, a weapon crafted uniquely for yourself to better face the demons you were born to fight. Today, it was to confront Shinazugawa and his shit attitude.

“Stop them-“

As you drew your sword, you could feel Shinazugawa’s eyes on you, his body tensing in preparation for battle.

“I want to watch them though.”

The metal rang out as it left its scabbard, filling the air with a sharp, piercing sound.

“Tokito-kun, don’t say that.”

Without hesitation, Shinazugawa also reached for his own sword, a fierce determination etched onto his face.

“Himejima-san, please stop them.”

You knew then that this was it - a clash between two Hashiras, each one determined to prove themselves the stronger.

“Sto-“

With lightning speed, you charged towards Shinazugawa, your sword raised high above your head. His eyes widened in surprise as he barely managed to dodge your attack, but you were one step ahead. As he turned to face you, you disappeared from sight, only to reappear behind him in a flash of movement. Without giving him a chance to react, you swept his feet and tackled him to the ground, pinning his neck with the hilt of your sword, legs constraining his arms while you positioned yourself to straddle him.

Shinazugawa thrashed beneath you, his muscles straining against your hold, but you refused to let go. Your heart raced with adrenaline as you felt his hot breath on your face, but you held fast, determined to prove your worth.

“You know,” you leaned closer to Shinazugawa’s ear, your hair brushing against his cheek. “If you wanted to ask me out, there are better ways to do it than trying to kill me,” you whispered in his ear, low and dangerous.

He jerked his head forward in an attempt to brutally headbutt you, but you swiftly dodged, disappearing from on top of him in a split second, with your sword returning to its scabbard. Shinazugawa’s eyes were now glowing red, his appearance the embodiment of pure rage. "You fucking wish," he spat, the saliva landing beside you as he struggled to regain his footing.

“No, I do not,” you said firmly, your gaze fixed on Shinazugawa’s enraged expression. Turning on your heel, you walked towards the gates, leaving the gathered Hashira behind you.

“Well deserved!” exclaimed Rengoku, clapping his hands together in admiration. Shinazugawa growled in response, his eyes still glowing with fury. "Shut the fuck up, I went easy on her," he retorted as he stood up, dusting off the dirt and pebbles from his uniform and skin.

A week later, the Swordsmith Village.

“Seeing Shinazugawa-san that angry was truly painful for me,” Kanroji sighed, her expression pensive. “You must have really struck a nerve with him. No one has ever started a fight with him on first meeting.”

You sunk deeper into the hot spring, relishing the warmth as you tried to shake off the encounter with Shinazugawa.

Kanroji’s voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention. "I haven't seen him since then, no one has," she said, her tone filled with concern. "I wonder if he's okay."

You lifted your head slightly, watching as Kanroji rested her elbows on a nearby rock and buried her face in her hands.

As you soaked in the hot spring, the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase. Looking up, you saw a female Kakushi approaching.

"Kanroji-san, your blade has been restored," she said, bowing respectfully.

“Oh, how lovely! I'll be down there shortly,” Kanroji replied with a bright smile. Then she turned to you, her expression still joyful. “I hope to see you at dinner too! We're going to have such a feast, I can't wait! Just thinking about all the food makes me so happy!” As she spoke, she started to wrap herself in her kimono.

“Yes, I’ll join you. Please, go ahead,” you said kindly, as you began to submerge yourself into the hot spring, blocking out any noise that tried to penetrate your senses. You couldn't help but overhear muffled voices from above the water's surface. You recognized Kanroji’s voice, she sounded shocked, but there was a deeper tone that made your heart race.

No.

Oh god no.

You immediately popped your head up, scanning the area to see if anyone was approaching. Surely, Kanroji would have warned any potential visitors that a woman was currently bathing in the hot spring. But it appeared that she had not, typical love Hashira.

It had been a week since the incident with Shinazugawa, and there he was, standing before you. He looked just as striking as before with his artwork of scars and chiselled muscles.

You were gawking at him.

But you quickly regained your composure, realizing that you were both staring at each other in complete silence. His expression was one of shock, and you felt a rush of embarrassment wash over you.

You could practically hear Kanroji’s playful laugher. She’s going to get an earful at dinner.

He mumbled an apology, and you sat there dumbfounded. “What?” you blurted out confused.

"Like... walking in on ya takin' a bath," he replied, his words a little muddled.

As you looked at Shinazugawa, you couldn't believe that this was the same person who had tried to put up a fight with you. Just as you were about to stand up from the hot spring, the realization that you were completely naked hit you, and you quickly sat your backside down again, not wanting to expose yourself in front of him.

"Do you mind-" you began to say, but trailed off as you noticed Shinazugawa staring at you.

"Huh?" he replied, seeming to have missed your question.

"Just turn around for a bit," you said, feeling your face grow hot.

"Oh- oh yeah. Yeah, my bad," he said, quickly turning around.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself. “Sorry, could you pass that?" you asked.

"Pass what?" he asked, confused.

"My kimono, it's right beside you," you said, feeling a bit annoyed.

"What? Oh, yeah," he said, tossing your kimono backwards to avoid catching a glimpse of your naked body.

You quickly wrapped yourself in the kimono, skipping the process of drying yourself just to get out of the awkward situation. Your hair stuck to your face and the thin material of the kimono felt like a damp towel that made you shiver as your skin's moisture clung onto it.

You were freezing and Shinazugawa took notice.

As you made to pass him, Shinazugawa extended his arm to stop you, and you gave him a puzzled look. He then removed his haori and offered it to you. "You're freezing your tits off, take it," he said with a gruff voice.

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him to find him looking anywhere but you. You felt a bit embarrassed about accepting his gesture, but the cold was too much to bear, right? So, you gratefully took the haori and wrapped it around your shivering body. The fabric was warm and devastatingly smelt of him.

He mumbled something under his breath, but you couldn't quite make it out.

“What?" you asked, looking up at him, hoping he would repeat himself.

He snapped back, "Said, get outta here."

You stared at him for a few seconds, taken aback by his sudden hostility. As you descended the stairs, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy about the whole situation.

You turned back to look at Shinazugawa. He was still standing there, like a statue, and you couldn't help but notice that the tips of his ears were tinted red.

As you entered the room, Kanroji greeted you with excitement, exclaiming, "I knew it would work! Your best friends now!" You were still processing the encounter with Shinazugawa, but the aroma of the dishes brought you back to reality.

You noticed the variety of dishes laid out on the table, and your stomach grumbled in anticipation. "Let's eat, Kanroji-san," you sat down at the table, still lost in thought, but the food managed to distract you.

As you ate, Kanroji chattered on about different topics, her bubbly personality keeping you company even when your thoughts trailed away. You found yourself gradually relaxing, enjoying the meal and her company.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, as he sat in the hot spring with his head tilted back, staring up at the night sky. Everything seemed to remind him of her, and it only served to further infuriate him. "She's so fuckin’ annoying," he grumbled, his frustration growing with every passing second. "Why the hell did I give her that?" He shifted his gaze to the stairs where he had last seen her, his jaw clenched tightly.

His Kasugai crow landed beside him, and Shinazuagwa peered at him, tracing his index finger over the soft feathers of his head.

“We’re going on that mission,” he spoke to his Kasugai crow, which perched on a nearby rock. Its beady eyes peered back at him, as if acknowledging his words. “Twelve moon, right?” Shinazugawa continued, his expression showing a hint of excitement. “Gon’ be a piece of cake,” He smirked.

Shinazugawa ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled deeply. “Need to get outta here anyways,” he muttered, gazing out at the surrounding landscape.

You approached the Flame Hashira with a respectful bow as he trained. "Rengoku-san," you said, catching his attention. He turned towards you with a smile and asked, "Oh! What brings you here?"

“Ah, well,” you said sheepishly. "I was hoping you could help me. I'm looking for Shinazugawa-san. Do you happen to know where he resides or where I could find him?" You paused for a moment, feeling a little nervous.

Rengoku expression softened as he noticed your nervousness. "Of course, I know where he lives. Would you like me to escort you?"

You nodded, grateful for the offer. Rengoku stood up from his seat and gestured for you to follow him. As you walked together, he asked, "Is everything alright? You seem a bit uneasy."

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "I just need to return something."

"No, Shinazugawa-sama is not here," the female servant informed you with a polite bow.

You pressed on, "Do you happen to know where he is?"

"He's on a mission," she replied.

You grew impatient and asked, "What type of mission?"

"It's something in relation to the Twelve Moon," she responded calmly.

You could feel Rengoku stiffen at the mention of the Twelve Moon. "Twelve Moon?!" you exclaimed.

The servant nodded, "Yes, he's perfectly capable."

"Shit," you whispered under your breath. "When will he return?" you asked the female servant, feeling a sense of urgency.

"It could possibly be less or more than a month," she replied in a respectful tone.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. A month was longer than you had hoped.

"Why don't you give it to her instead?" Rengoku interjected, noticing your disappointment.

You shook your head, "It's okay, I'll return it to Shinazugawa-san myself," you replied with a small smile, determined to wait for his return.

Rengoku stared at you, his eyes widening for some unknown reason. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, both of your Kasugai crows swooped in, relaying the same message.

You both ran with fervour, your hearts pounding with urgency as you raced towards your destination.

Upper Moon 2 and 3 attacking a village to the west

Shinazugawa was there, alone with those demons. The thought of him facing those powerful beings by himself sent chills down your spine, and you pushed yourself to go faster.

As you approached the village, the scene before you was nothing short of chaos. Smoke billowed up into the sky, blackening the once peaceful atmosphere of the village. The sound of screams and cries of panic filled your ears, a clear indication of the destruction that had taken place.

As you ran through the streets, you saw houses that were once sturdy and intact, now reduced to rubble and debris. The lifeless bodies of citizens lay scattered among the ruins, their blood seeping into the ground beneath them. Some of the survivors were running frantically, trying to escape the horror that had befallen them.

Amidst the chaos, you suddenly caught a whiff of sandalwood and lavender, a scent that you recognized all too well. Without a moment's hesitation, you drew your sword from its scabbard, ready for whatever lay ahead.

"Rengoku-san, follow me," you ordered, as you began to sprint towards the source of the scent.

"It's not just Upper 2 and 3," you informed Rengoku, your eyes scanning the area. Weak demons were scattered all around, causing chaos and destruction. Suddenly, one demon leaped towards you, and Rengoku yelled out a warning.

With one swift stroke of your sword, you effortlessly decapitated the demon and continued towards your destination.

“Rengoku-san,” you said firmly. “Please take care of the civilians. I'll handle the upper moons on my own.”

Rengoku opened his mouth to protest, but you interrupted him, throwing him a reassuring smile over your shoulder. "I'll be fine," you said, your tone calm.

After a moment of hesitation, Rengoku nodded reluctantly, “Be careful.”

He circled back towards the heart of the village where the citizens were gathered, offering them his full support. Meanwhile, you were making your way towards Shinazugawa, but as you got closer, you felt a sudden drop in temperature, the air growing icy cold.

The ground beneath your feet was no longer dirt, but instead, it was now coated with ice.

Doma.

You sprinted towards the scene of the battle, your heart pounding against your chest as you saw Shinazugawa fighting fiercely against the upper ranks. He was holding his on, his sword gleaming in the dim moonlight as he expertly dodged and parried their attacks.

But as you drew closer, you could see that his movements were becoming more sluggish, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He was clearly tiring, and the demons were taking advantage of it. Doma casted ice into small particles, filling the air with a freezing chill.

Your mind raced as you realized the danger Shinazugawa was in. If he breathed in that ice, his lungs would collapse, he’d be unable to fight any longer. You opened your mouth to shout a warning, but before you could make a sound, Shinazugawa unleashed his seventh form.

In an instant, the air was filled with a gust of wind as Shinazugawa’s technique cast away the ice particles, scattering them in all directions. The force of the attack sent the demons staggering backward, giving Shinazugawa a momentary respite.

“Fifth form, Shooting Stars.” With lightning-fast movements, you darted through the field, attacking the two demons from every angle.

Your swordsmanship was unparalleled as you gracefully weaved through the air, moving with a fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly. The two demons were caught off guard as you darted around them, striking with a speed that left them reeling. Your strikes were precise, aimed directly at their weak points, and you took advantage of every opening with a calm and calculated efficiency.

"Doma, you little shit," you growled. Your eyes narrowed as you saw him chanting. You braced yourself for the worst as an enormous Bodhisattva statue surrounded by lotuses made of ice spawned from the surface you were standing on. You tried to dodge, but the ice vines sprouting from the lotuses entangled you, snaring all over your body and dragging you towards the statue, towards Doma.

You struggled to break free, feeling the vines tightening around your limbs and cutting into your flesh. You knew that if you didn't act fast, your bones would break under the pressure.

"Little Night Hashira, we meet again!" he exclaimed with a smile, completely oblivious to the fact that you were only seconds away from delivering the final blow. "You are still as gorgeous as ever, and you smell heavenly too," he added, his tone suggestive.

You had only crossed paths a handful of times in missions, yet he acted as if you were old friends.

Your grip tightened around the hilt of your sword, your eyes narrowing as you glared at him. His smug expression only served to infuriate you further, the veins tightened even more.

"You’re mistaken if you think I have any interest in your flattery, Doma," you spat blood. "I’m here to end your pitiful existence.”

Doma's expression faltered for a moment, but then he chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you’re always so fierce. That's what makes you so irresistible."

But before you could retort, your attention was diverted to Shinazugawa’s whereabouts. You scanned the area, but he was nowhere to be found. Panic set in as you realized he could be in danger.

You darted your eyes around, searching frantically for any sign of him.

"Looking for someone, Little Night Hashira?" he asked with a sinister tone, grinning. "Hm... Your little Wind Hashira, perhaps?" He giggled, clearly knowing something you didn't. "He's an amazing fighter, you know. Akaza wants to turn him. He'd be an amazing Upper Moon." His voice was taunting.

A searing pain erupted in your side, causing you to gasp for air. You looked down to see a deep gash across your abdomen, blood flowing freely from the wound. You gazed back at Doma, his fan covering his mouth as he hid his smug smile.

You tried to speak, but blood gurgled out of your mouth, choking you. “Where-“ you managed to gasp, desperately trying to finish your question.

“Where what?” he taunted, pretending not to understand.

“Is he…” you wheezed, barely able to speak as the pain in your chest intensified.

“Look over there, pretty girl,” Doma said, pointing with his fan. You turned your head to see Shinazugawa locked in a fierce battle with Akaza. Your heart sank at the sight of him fighting alone against such a powerful opponent.

Your attention was quickly brought back to your own predicament as the ice vines continued to tighten their grip around your body. The coldness was seeping into your bones and you could feel your strength waning. You gritted your teeth and tried to break free, but it was no use.

"Once Akaza gets his final blow in," Doma leaned in, bringing you close enough to see the spectrum of colours in his eyes. "We will turn him into a demon. If he refuses, well..." His smile faded, “We’ll tear every single limb of his off.”

You reached your breaking point, your mind became clouded. “Thirteenth form, Nightmare.”

Suddenly, the world around you transformed into a dark and ominous realm. The air was thick with the scent of fear, and the sound of screams and cries echoed all around you. Doma was now trapped in a terrifying nightmare of his own making.

The vines that had been tightly wrapped around you suddenly loosened, and the statue that Doma had created melted away at an intense speed. You plummeted towards the ground, hitting the hard surface with a deafening thud. You let out a silent cry. The impact should have caused numerous broken bones, but you refused to succumb to the pain.

As you surveyed your surroundings, you noticed that the shadow of Doma was writhing in agony, his face contorted with terror. He clawed at the air and his own face in a desperate attempt to escape his own nightmare. You took advantage of the opportunity and prepared yourself for the final blow, concentrating all your power into your stance as you chanted, "First form, Meteor."

"AKAZA!" Doma screeched, just as you were about to land the final blow on his neck, slicing through the skin. You could sense Akaza's presence from your peripheral vision as he swiftly moved towards Doma and took him into his arms. The force of your sword met nothing but air, and the ground where Doma should have been standing erupted into a deep crater from the sheer power of your attack.

You let out a string of curses, the words echoing through the empty air. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down, but the pain you were in made it even difficult as bones were constricting your lungs. However, you refused to let it stop you from finding Shinazugawa.

You spotted Shinazugawa just a few meters away, his gaze fixed on you. He stood there, motionless, much like he did back at the hot springs. As you turned your attention towards him, you noticed Rengoku approaching you from behind.

You let out a raspy breath before collapsing to the ground, causing Rengoku to rush towards you, leaving Shinazugawa behind. As you struggled to catch your breath, Shinazugawa’s voice cut through the air.

"You lost him," he stated flatly.

Confused you replied, "What?"

Shinazugawa’s eyes widened as he continued, "You're so fucking useless. Why are you even here?"

Rengoku interrupted, his anger palpable as he yelled, "Shinazugawa! Can you not do this right now?"

Shinazugawa ignored him, spitting out his words with contempt, "You are so fucking useless, you should have died."

You stared at him, taken aback by his harsh words.

Your breathing became shallow, and your heart felt like it had dropped to your stomach. The weight of Shinazugawa’s words felt heavy, crushing down on any sense of self-worth you had left. You tried to hold back tears, but you could feel them welling up in your eyes. The pain was almost unbearable, and all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and disappear.

“Why?" you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Quit the fucking corps," he said, his tone cold.

“Shinazugawa,” Rengoku removed his haori and quickly wrapped it around your bleeding torso. “She did more than you could have,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of anger and frustration directed at Shinazugawa. He held you close, trying to ease your pain as you groaned in agony. The wounds were deep and you could feel the blood trickling down your skin. Despite Rengoku’s efforts, the pain was still overwhelming, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

You saw black.

“Is she in a stable condition?” Ubuyashiki inquired with a deep concern etched in his voice.

“Yes, Oyakata-sama. The Kakushi just arrived in time to prevent further blood loss,” Rengoku replied.

“I’m glad. She fought valiantly, didn't she?” he remarked, with a tone that suggested it was not a question. Ubuyashiki was well aware of your formidable strength, which could rival even Himejima, if not, surpass him. However, even such strength had its limits, and you were not invincible.

Shinazugawa sat in silence during the meeting, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor without even a single blink. Ubyashiki addressed him, "Shinazugawa?"

Shinazugawa jolted out of his trance, "Oyakata-sama."

Ubyashiki asked, "What did you tell her?”

Shinazugawa hesitated, swallowing hard and opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Eventually, he managed to say, "I told her she was useless."

Rengoku interjected, "Please continue, Shinazugawa-san."

Shinazugawa glared at Rengoku and continued, "And that she should have died."

Ubuyashiki turned to Rengoku and said, "You may leave now, Rengoku."

Rengoku looked at both Ubuyashiki and Shinazugawa, and replied, "As you wish, Oyakata-sama."

Once Rengoku was out of earshot, Ubuyashiki confronted Shinazugawa, "Why do you express your concern through hostility, Shinazugawa?"

"I don't understand, Oyakata-sama," he responded.

"You care for her, do you not?" Ubuyashiki questioned. "She's finally opening up to the other Hashiras, enjoying their company, and communicating more. Yet you try to push her back into the hole she has been desperately trying to climb out of. Do you not see the emptiness in her eyes? She looks so hollow, and you only seem to make her feel more disconnected from this world."

"She's not my responsibility. She made her own decision to get involved."

"You are a Hashira, Shinazugawa. You have a responsibility to your fellow demon slayers, especially one who risked her life to help you."

Shinazugawa’s jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for her help."

"But you needed it," Ubuyashiki countered. "And now she needs yours."

Shinazugawa opened his mouth to argue, but Ubuyashiki interrupted him. "I understand that you are not used to showing kindness, but that does not excuse cruelty. She deserves respect, and so do you. Please think about that, Sanemi."

The use of his first name caught him off guard, and he stared directly into Ubuyashiki's eyes, unsure of what to say.

“You may go, Shinazugawa,” Ubuyashiki said with a hint of sadness in his smile.

Time passed in a blur as days and nights blended together, but fragments of memories kept you grounded in reality.

You struggled to open your eyes through the hardened mucus that clung to them.

You heard the clatter of a plate hitting the ground, causing you to turn your head in the direction of the noise. Your eyes fell upon Kocho, who was standing by the door.

“Two months,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion as tears welled up in her eyes. Her vulnerability caught you off guard. “You were unconscious for two whole months, and I was losing hope that you’d ever wake up.” She slowly made her way towards you, kneeling beside the bed where you lay recovering.

“Every damn day there was an ohagi on your table that I had to clean up,” she said with a hint of annoyance. You gave her a quizzical look, wondering what ohagi had to do with anything.

“I'm sorry,” you said, even though you weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

You remembered then, “Shinazugawa-san and Rengoku-san?” Kocho handed you a glass of water, which you eagerly gulped down, relieving your dry throat. As you drank, Kocho continued to speak.

"Shinazugawa-san deserves a beating," she said with a hint of anger in her voice. "I offered to create new scars for him, but Himejima-san told me not to." Despite her words, she gave you a sweet smile, a contradiction to her previous statement.

“I was scared,” she admitted. "You were in such a bad condition," she added.

“I'm fine now, Kocho-san,” you replied with a reassuring smile.

“You certainly are. We made sure to take care of you every single day," she said, before adding, “Oykata-sama would visit every day too. We often caught him doing so.”

“He didn't have to,” you said, shocked by the revelation. Kocho smiled softly. “He cares for you deeply, just as he does for all of us. After all, he sees us as his family-”

“You're awake!” Kanroji bursted into the room. “How are you feeling?” She was bouncing with energy. “Meals without you just weren't the same.”

“Kanroji-san, thank you for the ohagi,” you bowed your head. “What ohagi?” She asked with a smile.

You stared at her, “The one on my table every night, according to Kocho-san?”

“I never brought any ohagi. But if I had seen it, I definitely would have eaten it all!” She retorted with a playful grin.

As you stared out of the window, the gentle breeze rustled the curtains, and you breathed in the fresh air. Suddenly, your stomach grumbled and you found yourself craving some ohagi. "I could really go for some ohagi right about now," you murmured to yourself.

As night settled in, you took your first few steps after being stationary for two solid months. You had lost a considerable amount of muscle and weight during your recovery, but Kocho assured you that your training would come back to you in a few days.

You padded softly towards the window, staring into the gardens of the Butterfly estate. The night sky always had a calming effect on you, especially when the moon is full. The beauty of the moonlight shining onto your face made you close your eyes and bask in its presence.

You felt a subtle shift in the air as the door silently opened, a clear sign of someone skilled in stealth. Without hesitation, you turned your head towards the door.

White hair and a scarred body. In his hand, he held a box wrapped in furoshiki cloth. As he walked in, his gaze immediately went to the bed where you had been comatose.

Not finding you there, a flash of panic was evident in his eyes as he began to scan the room. Finally, he noticed you standing there, looking at him with a stunned expression.

“Shinazugawa-san?” You said softly.

He dropped the box in surprise and walked slowly towards you. His scarred face was twisted in a mixture of surprise and guilt. He reached his hand out, but you flinched, taking a step back.

That immediately stopped him in his tracks. He let out a bitter laugh and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so fucken stupid,” he muttered, his voice laced with self-disgust.

“Yeah,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't bear to look at him, so you turned your back towards him, staring blankly out the window.

"Please look at me," he whispered, his voice barely audible. You couldn't bring yourself to do it, your gaze still fixed on the window. He said your name, your first name, in the most tender voice you had ever heard.

“Please.”

The moonlight cast a soft glow around you as you turned to face him, illuminating your figure. Tears continued to flow uncontrollably down your face as you gazed at him, and the sight of him only seemed to intensify your emotions.

His body was taut, restraining himself from taking a step towards you and enveloping you in his arms. He respected the invisible boundary you had created. His eyes softened when he looked into yours, a stark contrast to his usual gaze that made your stomach churn. His moods were so volatile, but in this moment, it seemed as if he was trying to convey something deeper, something vulnerable.

He was clenching and unclenching his hand, his eyes pleading with you as he whispered, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." The raw emotion in his voice made your heart ache.

“I should have never said any of that, I’m so sorry.”

"I just-“ he paused, his voice cracking. He rubbed his face vigorously before continuing, "I don't know. I don't even know you," he let out a sad, bitter laugh. "What the fuck am I doing?"

“You're not useless," he said softly, his voice filled with remorse. He repeated the phrase again, as if trying to erase the hurt caused by his previous words. "You shouldn't die either, fuck, why did I ever say that," he muttered, his eyes full of remorse.

You stared at him, not knowing how to respond. He looked away, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I don’t want you to die. I said those things," a tear fell down his cheek. "I said it because I didn't want you near any of this shit."

“You’re so fucking strong, I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I still worried. You almost fucking died, holy shit.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You hit that ground, fractured a shit ton of bones, and yet you still moved. I was so fucking scared, I just wanted you to stop but you didn’t. You kept on going and I couldn’t bear to watch it go down.”

You took a soft step toward him. “You almost had him,” he continued, tears streaming down his face. “But when that other demon left me, I thought he was going to finish you off. You had no idea how fucking scared I was.”

"Two months, I came here every single day," he choked out, "and you never stirred. I was terrified," he whispered your name.

"I didn't want to lose-" he was cut off by the gentle touch of your hand on his scarred face. He snapped his head towards you, eyes widening in shock.

“But you did,” you said gently, your voice breaking as tears continued to flow down your face. “The moment you said those words to me.” Your words hung heavy in the air as you both cried, the pain palpable.

Your hands were trembling as you wiped away his tears. Shinazugawa took hold of your hands and brought them to his lips "I won't ever say that shit again," he promised. He pressed a soft kiss onto your hands. "If I ever say anything like that again, these beautiful hands of yours can land the final blow on me."

“Shinazugawa-san,” you said. Shinazugawa gently released your hands and brought his own to your face, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. His hands were so large, almost enveloping your entire face, and they were warm and comforting. You couldn't help but nuzzle into them, savouring the feeling of safety and reassurance that came with his touch. It had been a long time since you had felt this kind of comfort.

"Sanemi," he said, and you looked up at him, questioning.

"Please, call me Sanemi," he added with a gentle smile.

"Sanemi," you said softly.

He averted his gaze, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink under the moonlight.

As you gazed at him, the world suddenly tilted and you felt yourself losing balance. Your legs gave out and you began to fall, but Sanemi's quick reflexes allowed him to catch you before you hit the ground.

"Careful," he said, holding you tighter as you were bundled in his arms. His strong arms enveloped you, making your heart race. You couldn't help but blush at the sudden situation, grateful that your hair was hiding most of your face.

Sanemi remained in the position that he caught you in, not moving a muscle. As you rested in his embrace, you found yourself entranced by his familiar scent once again, feeling yourself becoming drowsy.

"Sanemi..." you murmured, your eyes drooping.

Sanemi stiffened at the sound of his name, realizing that you were about to pass out. He looked at you in panic as your eyes shut. "Hey, stay with me," he called out, but you didn't budge. With a swift motion, he lifted you up and carried you to the bed, surprised at how light you were in his arms.

Sanemi skidded to a stop, almost colliding with Kocho. "What are you doing here, Shinazugawa-san?" she asked him with a flat expression.

"She passed out. I don't know what happened. She was standing, then she fell and passed out in my arms. Kocho, please help." He pleaded desperately.

Her expression turned concerned upon hearing that, and she quickly made her way to your room. Upon entering, she found you peacefully sleeping on the bed, tucked into the covers. As she checked your vitals, she noticed the box that Sanemi had dropped when he first entered the room. Looking up at him with realization, she said, "You were the one bringing the ohagi."

Sanemi's frustration boiled over, "She passed out and you're concerned about that damn snack?!"

"She's fine," Kocho said reassuringly. "She's just extremely iron deficient. Since we've been administering vital minerals through injections, her iron intake has been insufficient, among other things," she explained.

“No wonder she’s so fucken light,” Sanemi pieced together.

Kocho nodded, then turned her attention back to Sanemi. "What are you really doing here?" she asked again, her tone serious.

“None of ya business," he said, still keeping his gaze fixed on you.

"You said some really terrible things to her, Shinazugawa-san," Kocho reprimanded. "If I hear even the slightest whisper that you've caused her any harm,” she gave him a sweet smile. “I will gut you.”

Sanemi smirked at that, “I’d like to see you try.”

Kocho gave you one last look before sending Sanemi a vulgar gesture and leaving the room.

As you turned on your side, you felt a slight dip in the bed. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with the sight of a sleeping Sanemi. He sat on a stool with his arms resting on the bed, which served as makeshift pillows. He was softly snoring, and it was clear that he must have been watching over you until he fell asleep.

A gentle breeze wafted into the room, causing his hair to fall over his peaceful face. Without hesitation, you reached out and brushed his hair aside. The light touch made him choke on a snore and slowly open his eyes.

He gave you a sluggish smile, then gently took hold of your hand and pressed his lips against it, just as he had done the night before. Your body froze as a rush of warmth washed over you, making you feel a little flushed.

“Mornin’,” he said groggily, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Good morning,” you replied quietly, your stomach fluttering at the sound of his voice.

He ran his hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up. "Let me get you some food," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

You were about to protest and get out of bed yourself until he said, "Sit your pretty ass down."

You sat down.

Two weeks later

You approached the well-trodden path that led to a destination you had visited a few months earlier. As you neared the entrance, you politely knocked on the sturdy gate, which was soon opened by a female servant, who peered out cautiously.

As she recognized you, her eyes lit up with familiarity, and she quickly bowed low in greeting, gesturing for you to come inside the manor.

She led you through the house and towards the kitchen, the clanging of stones and ceramics hitting each other growing louder with every step.

"Shinazugawa-sama has a keen interest in domestic activities," the servant informed you. You couldn't help but suppress a smile at that. As you reached the entrance of the kitchen, she said, "I'll leave you here," and smiled.

You walked into the kitchen and were immediately hit with the aroma of various dishes. As you looked around, you saw Sanemi's godly figure standing at the counter. He wore black a hakama, a shirt nowhere in sight.

He was entirely focused on his task, his eyes fixed on the fishes in front of him as he sliced them with precision. You couldn't help but admire him, the way his muscles flexed as he worked and the sweat that glistened on his skin.

The servant's words from earlier made sense now - Sanemi had clearly been invested in domestic activities lately, and he seemed to have a talent for it.

You crept towards him until you were close enough to wrap your arms around his waist. Sanemi's body tensed for a moment as he jolted in surprise, causing him to almost drop the knife he was holding mid-air.

He quickly recovered, turning around to face you with a look of mild annoyance mixed with amusement. "Don't sneak up on me like that," he grumbled, though the corners of his lips turned up slightly.

As you chuckled, your breath tickled Sanemi's skin. "Couldn’t resist," you murmured, moving closer to him. Your lips brushed against his skin as you traced the scars on his back with feather-light kisses.

Sanemi's body tensed and he let out a choked sound. However, he didn't push you away. Instead, he slowly turned around to face you, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of desire.

You smirked at his reaction and began to detach yourself from him, intending to playfully tease him. However, before you could take a step away, Sanemi quickly grabbed your wrist.

You couldn't help but let out a surprised gasp as he pulled you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. His grip on your waist was firm but not rough, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You tilted your head, gazing at him through your lashes, "You fucken minx," he growled.

Your hands trailed up his thick arms, fingers gliding over the defined muscles before wrapping around the back of his neck. You played with his white hair, tugging at the strands lightly as you gazed deeply into his eyes. He couldn't help but flicker his gaze between your eyes and lips.

"I'm a minx now, Sanemi?" you playfully teased, emphasizing his name.

"Fuckin' don't start this," he ordered.

Your eyes flickered to his lips before returning to his gaze. "I really want to kiss you, ‘Nemi," you admitted, your voice low and sultry.

Sanemi's grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned down until his lips were dangerously close to yours. "Do it," he said, roughly.

Your heart raced with excitement as you finally gave in to your desire and pressed your lips to his. His taste was a sweet addiction that you couldn't get enough of. "Finally," he cursed, his lips parting to deepen the kiss.

As your bodies melted together, Sanemi lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his narrow waist. A soft moan escaped your lips as his tongue traced your lips, seeking entrance, and you eagerly granted it.

He set you on the counter and your hands trailed up to tug on his white hair, eliciting a low growl from him. He bit your lip in warning, and you couldn't help but let out a whimper of pleasure. The intensity of the kiss was overwhelming, and you were completely lost in the moment, consumed by your desire for him.

"’Nemi," you whimpered, feeling his lips trailing a path down your neck. You couldn't help but pull on his hair, urging him to continue as he left a trail of kisses and nips on your skin. Your heart was racing with desire as he found a sensitive spot on your neck and began to suck on it. The sensation was so overwhelming that you had to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape.

"Lemme fucken hear," he rumbled, pulling your hand away from your mouth.

"I wanna hear everythin’ that escapes your pretty mouth, every moan, every gasp," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wanna know that I'm makin’ you feel good." The intensity in his voice sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he nibbled on your earlobe.

"’Nemi, the food-" you began.

"Fuck the food," he said.