#flames resolve

Flames Resolve (Sanemi x feisty jokester fem reader)

Chapter 2

The next morning, you arrived at the training grounds. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and dew. Today was your first session with the Hashira.

Your sparring partners greeted you warmly. The Sound and Love Hashira laughed easily as you exchanged blows, offering pointers with patience and good humor. Their movements were precise but relaxed, and for the first time in months, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. Training could be… fun.

Well, that was until it was time to train with the Wind Hashira.

Sanemi was already there, arms crossed, hair messily sticking out in every direction as usual. His eyes scanned you critically, sharp as a hawk. “Alright,” he said flatly. “Show me what you’ve got.”

You squared your stance, calm and steady. “Noted,” you replied.

The moment he lunged, everything changed. Wind, speed, and raw power—they hit you all at once. Every strike demanded precision, every feint tested your reflexes. Sanemi’s expression didn’t change, but you could feel the weight of his expectation pressing down like a storm.

“Again!” he barked, as you barely sidestepped a spinning kick.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, heart hammering, and lunged forward, matching him as best you could. It was grueling, exhausting, and exhilarating all at once. Every fiber of your being screamed to push harder, to prove yourself—not to him, but to yourself and to Rengoku.

And as the sun rose higher, burning through the morning mist, you realized something: surviving his training wouldn’t just make you stronger physically. it was shaping the steel inside you.

A month training with each hashira and going on missions. But everytime you had to be with the wind hashira it felt impossible. Everyone else had praised your skill in their own way except for him. So the training with him was brutal.

Hours passed, and the training didn’t let up. Sanemi’s strikes came like gusts of wind—relentless, sharp, and punishing. Each time you blocked or dodged, he would immediately counter, testing your limits. Sweat stung your eyes, your arms ached, and yet, you refused to give in.

“Focus! Faster!” he barked, spinning around in a blur. You ducked under his elbow, rolled, and countered with a strike aimed at his side. He barely moved, smirking as if it had barely touched him.

“Not bad,” he muttered, almost begrudgingly. “But—ugh—don’t get cocky.”

Again and again, you clashed. Each strike, each block, each maneuver tested your stamina, your precision, your mind. And slowly—bit by bit—you started to anticipate him. His wind-like movements, his sharp feints—they were no longer completely unpredictable.

Then, it happened.

Sanemi lunged with his usual speed, expecting you to dodge. Instead, you sidestepped and delivered a quick strike that tapped his shoulder. Another strike, another, until finally, a small but clear blow made him stumble back.

“Ughhh!” he growled, the sharp edge in his voice betraying his irritation. His hair fell into his face as he wiped sweat from his brow. “Hah… how—how are you even doing that?”

You didn’t say a word, just met his glare with steady eyes. “I’m doing what I need to do,” you replied, breath heavy but calm.

Sanemi’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked almost… impressed. “Don’t think this means I’m going easy on you,” he snapped, but there was a hint of something else beneath the frustration—respect, begrudging and hard-earned.

The training continued, but now the dynamic had shifted. You weren’t just reacting anymore—you were taking the fight to him. And for the first time, Sanemi’s gruff exterior seemed just a little less unshakable.

Steam drifted lazily over the surface of the hot spring, curling into the crisp morning air. You sank into the warm water, letting it seep into your tired muscles after another long day of training. Mitsuri floated in beside you, her hair damp and sticky against her shoulders, a bright smile on her face.

“Ah… this feels so nice,” she sighed, stretching her arms. “I could stay here forever.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, closing your eyes for a moment. “It’s… nice to just… relax for once.”

Mitsuri tilted her head, smiling softly. “You push yourself so hard, Y/N. You really should rest more. Even the strongest fighters need a break sometimes.”

You let out a quiet laugh, letting the warmth of the water calm you. “I know. I just… training is all I really think about these days. But yeah, this… is good.”

There was a pause, the kind that wasn’t awkward, just… easy. Mitsuri’s gaze lingered on you, sparkling with curiosity.

“So… um…” she said after a moment, her tone light, teasing just a little, “do you… think anyone’s… cute?”

You froze, the question hanging in the steam. “Uh… I… nobody,” you said quickly, shrugging, trying to make it casual.

But in your mind, your eyes immediately flicked to the Wind Hashira—ugh, gross… no, don’t think that… he’s infuriating, impossible, a total pain—and you flushed at the thought, quickly trying to shove it away. Why is my brain like this?

Mitsuri’s grin widened slightly, reading your subtle flinch. “Nobody? Really?”

“Really,” you replied evenly, keeping your voice calm, though your brain was racing. Gross, gross, gross… how am I even thinking about him right now?

Mitsuri tilted her head, still smiling, clearly enjoying the tiny reaction. “Mm-hmm… alright, if you say so.”

You let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into the water, thankful the topic seemed to drop—for now. But even as you sank into the warmth, your thoughts betrayed you, circling back to Sanemi. You clenched your fists lightly under the water. I don’t like him. He’s… he’s the most annoying, infuriating, impossible… attractive idiot I’ve ever trained with.

Mitsuri splashed lightly in your direction. “You’re quiet now… hmm. Something on your mind?”

You shook your head, forcing a small, neutral smile. “Just… enjoying the water. That’s all.”

Flames Resolve (Sanemi x feisty jokester fem reader)

Spoilers for past mugen train and for sanemi’s backstory

Chapter 1

You look down. Blood. Blood is everywhere. You hands, your bed, the walls. You can’t move. All you hear is the repeated thud and crunching coming a few feet away from you.

“Daddy?” is all you manage to say with your voice breaking.

The humanoid creature over your father’s body turns its head toward you. Bones cracking. Your father’s leg in its hands. Then it lunges towards you, you feel a sharp pain on your leg. You squeeze your bunny and sob.

But the thing holding you right now isn’t the monster, it’s a man who shone brightly like the sun.

You sit up, gasping for air. Just another nightmare. You get ready for a day of training when your crow arrives “Go to the main estate, special training for the advanced. I repeat go to the estate for training.” You head on your journey saying goodbye to the sweet older lady that owns the ramen shop on the edge of town as she gave you a look of pity.

On your walk you begin to think about everything. The house that once felt so full and bright was now empty. Kyojuro Rengoku was dead. You had locked yourself away in the dojo training mercilessly for two months. You couldn’t stop or slow down otherwise your thoughts would haunt you. Memories would suffocate you.

You remembered how kind he was. How he immediately treated you like a little sister.

His father had taken you in, hes the one who saved you that night. Juro was basically your older brother, your best friend. Now that was taken away from you too.

You were his Tsuguko, you couldn’t throw away all he taught you. You must remain strong.

When you entered the gates, your eyes were already puffy and red. You were sure you looked tired, but this was the first time you had left town since it happened.

Two young daughters escorted you to a room with the Hashira. Everyone looked at you, clearly surprised to see you.

“Y/N, thank you for coming. Please, sit,” said Kagaya Ubuyashiki.

You bowed once. “Thank you for inviting me, Oyakata-sama,” you replied and took a seat quietly at the back.

“I know Rengoku’s death has affected everyone deeply,” Oyakata-sama began. “However, we need someone to fill the position of Flame Hashira. That is why I invited Y/N today. She trained under Rengoku and is highly skilled.”

Your jaw tightened. “Oyakata-sama, I will not replace him,” you said, voice steady and eyes calm. “I can honor him. I can continue what he started. But I am not Rengoku, and I never will be. His strength, his courage, that was his alone.”

Oyakata-sama nodded. “No one asks you to be him. You were chosen because of your own skill and judgment.”

Sanemi slammed his hand against the wall, startling everyone. “What the hell is this?” he barked. “You think sitting there quietly and saying ‘I won’t replace him’ is enough? That anyone will respect you just because you say so?”

You met his glare evenly. “I’m not pretending, Wind Hashira. I don’t need to be him. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Don’t give me that calm, measured crap,” he snapped, stepping closer, eyes burning. “He was the Hashira. And now you think you can just sit there like it’s nothing?”

You tilted your head, voice low but sharp. “Sitting quietly is called listening. You might try it sometime.”

Sanemi blinked, caught off guard, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Bold words for someone your size,” he muttered, still glaring.

“I’m not trying to impress you,” you said, meeting his stare evenly. “I’m trying to do my job. And yelling at me won’t change that.”

Sanemi’s jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a long pause, he muttered begrudgingly, “Fine. Let’s see if you can actually handle it.”

Oyakata-sama’s gentle smile remained. “Go forward, Y/N. Do your best. The Corps trusts you.”

You nodded once, expression unreadable but firm. The weight of the title settled on your shoulders. Heavy, but steady.

Sanemi fell into step beside you as you left the room. “Just so we’re clear,” he said, voice sharp, “if you screw up, I’m dragging you out myself.”

You let out a humorless chuckle, faintly amused. “Noted, Wind Hashira. But if you want to keep up, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

He smirked, a little reluctantly. “We’ll see.”