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it’s mid october and the japan air finally feels amazing. no more madrid furnace trying to cook you alive, just crisp wind, ginkgo leaves turning that beautiful gold, and the smell of yakitori drifting from every alley.
you’re standing in your parents kitchen in kangawa, barefoot, wearing one of sae’s old hoodies that still smells faintly like his cologne and baby spit up.
peach is in your arms, sucking on your fingers, drooling all over you.
your mom is at the stove making food and humming off key. your dad is on the living room floor letting the cat crawl all over him while some old drama plays at low volume.
home.
you didn’t know how bad you missed it until the jet lag wore off and you cried in the shower the first morning because the water pressure here just hits different.
sae pads in from the room, hair messy from the nap he pretended he wasn’t taking, he hasn’t bothered gelling it since the plane. his schedule loosened up at the beginning of october—fewer matches, more recovery days, some sponsorship stuff he can do remotely.
so he actually agreed to a couple weeks here without complaining (much).
“he’s hungry” he says, nodding toward the baby, your finger caught between his gums
“just look at him,” you murmur. “future striker, jaw’s already strong.” you bounce peach lightly, earning a delighted coo as his tiny legs kick.
sae steps close, slides a hand under peach’s butt to take the weight off. the baby immediately lets go of your finger, grabs a fistful of sae’s shirt, and tries to stuff it in his mouth instead.
“cannibal,” sae mutters, but lets him chew on the fabric anyway. he looks at you, eyes doing that thing where they go a little less cold. “you’re smiling like an idiot.”
“because i’m home, sae. real home. i can hear the wind outside, the lady next door yelling at her cat. it’s perfect.” you tilt your head onto his free arm. “i missed this so much i could cry again.”
“you already cried. twice. once in the shower, once at the store when you saw they still sell that chocolate milk you liked when you were younger.”
“shut up, it was hormonal.”
your mom turns around, wooden spoon in hand. “sae-kun, sit. food’s almost ready. and take that hoodie off the baby, he’s sweating.”
sae glances down—peach is indeed a small furnace and peels the hoodie off him in one smooth move. under it, haru’s wearing the cutest “i love mommy” onesie.
dinner is chaos in the way only family dinners can be:
too many dishes.
too much rice.
your dad asking sae about his soccer season even though he’s balancing a sleeping baby against his chest & trying to eat, your mom piling seconds onto your plate because “you’re still too thin after giving birth—look at your wrists!” peach wakes up halfway through, furious and loud, demanding milk. he gets passed to you under the table like contraband, a bottle passed into your hand while you keep eating with the other.
sae watches the whole circus with his usual blank face but his foot is hooked around your ankle under the table.
later, the house is finally quiet, you’re sit on the back engawa with the sliding door cracked open. october night air smells like wet leaves, it's so quiet compared to madrid. no car horns, no tourists yelling, just cicadas and the occasional train in the distance
sae's sprawled on his back beside you, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on your thigh.
peach is passed out in the portable crib inside, cheeks flushed, tiny fists curled by his face. he makes a tiny noise in his sleep and you both freeze like someone pulled a grenade pin. when he just smacks his lips and settles again, sae exhales through his nose.
"he slept six hours straight last night," you whisper, still scared to jinx it. "six. i woke up in a panic thinking he died."
"he didn't die. he just finally figured out nighttime is for sleeping. took him long enough."
you nudge sae's leg with your foot. "says the guy who can sleep through a full eight hours on a turbulent flight sitting straight up."
"discipline."
"freak of nature."
your mom slides the shoji open, balancing a tray with tea and sliced apricots. she's been in heaven since you landed, always making sure you’re fed, taking roughly eight hundred photos of peach a day.
"you two eat," she orders, setting the tray down. "sae-kun, you lost weight again. european portions are too small."
sae sits up, takes the glass with both hands (polite boy when he wants to be), and murmurs, "thank you."
the door slides shut again. silence falls, just cicadas and wind chimes.
you lean back on your palms, staring up at the slice of sky you can see between the houses. “i forgot how many stars you can actually see here. madrid’s too bright.”
sae’s beside you, elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. “you wanna stay longer?”
you turn your head. “you’d be okay with that?”
he shrugs, eyes on the sky. “schedule’s light till january camp. and you light up here. it’s annoying how obvious it is.”
you lean your head on sae's shoulder. "i miss this place so much when we're gone. like... my soul misses it. madrid's beautiful but it's not home, you know?"
“we can stay till after new year’s,” he says, voice low. “if you want.”
your heart does that annoying floppy thing. “are you going soft on me?"
sae hums, hands sliding up your back. “so. till new year’s?”
you nod, pressing your face into his neck. “mhm, thank you.”
he just tightens his arms and lets the quiet stretch, cicadas and distant trains and peach’s soft baby snores through the open door.
home, for a little while longer.
a week later and you’ve migrated from your parents house to the itoshi family home in kamakura, because sae’s mom called him three times in two days going “bring my grandson here or i’ll die” and sae, for all his coldness, actually folded.
the house is exactly what you expected: spotless, modern, windows overlooking the sea, everything in cool tones of gray and white. peach is now twelve weeks old, fat as a little dumpling, and has started smiling real smiles that make you want to fling yourself into the sun. every time you look at him you understand why old ladies in the supermarket keep stopping you to squeal.
sae’s mom greets you at the door with the softest hug, like she’s afraid she’ll break haru, then immediately takes him from your arms and starts crying because “he has rin’s baby cheeks but sae’s eyes, oh my god.”
“welcome home, sae. oh my goodness look at these cheeks i’m going to eat him—”
she’s already halfway down the hallway, haru giggling like he’s known her his whole life. traitor.
sae’s dad is in the entryway, gives you a polite bow and a quiet “welcome back,” then takes both your suitcases without asking because that’s the kind of man he is.
and then there’s rin.
he’s standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs in a black hoodie, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else on planet earth. his hair’s longer than the last time you saw him, falling into his lashes, and he’s taller too somehow, but the expression is the same:
resting bitch face.
sae walks past him without a word.
rin’s eyes flick to you, then to the empty space where haru was, then back to you.
“…the baby’s real,” he says, like he’s confirming a rumor.
“yeah, genius. his name is haru. peach for short because he’s edible.”
rin blinks, deadpan. “peach.”
“don’t start.”
sae’s mom comes back with haru now dressed in a tiny yukata onesie she definitely bought the second she heard you were coming. peach is gnawing on his fist and drooling everywhere, living his best life.
“rin! come hold your nephew!”
rin looks like he’s been sentenced to death.
sae drops onto the couch, legs stretched out, and pats the spot next to him. you collapse there instantly because your lower back is still hurting like a bitch.
rin shuffles over, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “i don’t… do babies.”
“you do now,” sae says flatly.
his mom literally places haru in rin’s arms before he can escape. rin freezes, elbows locked, holding peach out like he’s a live grenade.
“support the head—” you start.
“i know,” rin snaps, but adjusts immediately, cradling haru closer.
peach blinks up at him with those big teal eyes—exact copies of sae’s and rin’s and then does the most diabolical thing possible: he smiles. full gummy, drooly, right at rin.
rin’s face does something complicated. his ears go red. he looks away so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.
“he’s… small,” rin mutters.
“yeah, they start that way,” you say, trying not to laugh.
sae’s watching the whole thing. “don’t drop him. he’s the only spare i’m making.”
rin glares at him. “i’m not going to be the better uncle anyway.”
“there’s no competition. there’s only you.”
“exactly.”
peach chooses that moment to grab a fistful of rin’s hair and yank. rin makes a noise you’ve never heard from him before and haru squeals in delight, kicking his little legs.
sae’s mom is openly crying again. his dad is filming on his phone. you’re wheezing into sae’s shoulder.
later that night, after dinner you’re all in the living room. peach is having his nightly scream fest because he’s overtired and overstimulated from all the new people. you’re bouncing him, pacing, shushing, the whole routine.
rin watches from the doorway for a solid ten minutes before walking over and holding out his arms.
“give him here.”
you’re too tired to argue. you hand peach over.
rin starts walking in slow circles, one hand under haru’s butt, the other supporting his back, murmuring the most random shit under his breath.
“you’re going to be faster than your dad… gonna have a better left foot… we’ll work on your first touch when you can walk…”
peach quiets almost instantly, tiny face smushed against rin’s chest, eyes drooping.
you and sae both stare.
sae’s voice is dry. “show off.”
rin doesn’t even look up. “he likes me better.”
“he likes your heartbeat. it’s the same as mine.”
“cope.”
you lean into sae’s side, grinning so hard your face hurts. “he’s keeping him.”
sae grunts. “over my dead body.”
but when rin finally hands haru back—peach is completely knocked out, mouth open, drooling on rin’s hoodie
sae’s expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it. he takes the baby carefully, settles him against his own chest, and looks at rin.
“you can hold him again tomorrow.”
rin scoffs, but you catch the tiny curve at the corner of his mouth before he turns away. “whatever. he’s… not bad.”
that’s rin-speak for i would die for this child.
that night in the guest room, peach asleep in the travel crib, you’re curled against sae under the heavy duvet. the window’s cracked open and you can hear the ocean.
“your brother’s in love,” you whisper.
sae’s hand finds your waist, pulls you closer. “he’s always wanted to beat me at something. now he’s trying to steal my kid.”
“he can try. peach is a mama’s boy.”
sae hums, lips against your temple. “and apparently and uncle’s boy.” he sighs, but his arms tighten around you.
outside, waves fall and rise again, over and over.
inside, your little family of three (plus one new uncle) is finally, perfectly whole.
You know the movie "Freaky Friday"? How about Giyu is facing a demon who can switch bodies with the last person they touched, who just so happens to be the reader. So they have to go hunt this demon who escaped and leads to Giyu at least attempting to teach her how to swing a sword. Meanwhile, the Hashira think the pair are either missing or dead because Giyu's crow is just confused like always. This causes the Master send out Sanemi - who of course isn't happy to deal with "that man and his tag a long" - and Shinobu to find out. Only to get lost immediately because their only real lead is Giyu's crow who is - once again - confused.
you and giyuu had been walking a quiet stretch of forest path for most of the afternoon when the demon appeared without warning. one moment the trees were still and the next a figure stepped out from between the trunks, pale, long limbed and grinning in a way that made your skin crawl. giyuu moved in front of you on instinct, hand already on his sword, but the demon was faster than either of you expected. it lunged, fingers brushing against giyuu’s wrist just as he shoved you back. the world tilted hard.
your vision swam, the ground felt farther away, the ground rushed up, and then everything went sideways in a way that made your stomach lurch. and when everything settled you were staring down at your own body from a height that did not belong to you.
giyuu (now in your body) stumbled and caught himself against a tree, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before the usual calm shuttered back into place. you looked down at the long black uniform, the blue and red haori, the calloused hands that were definitely not yours. the demon was already gone, laughter echoing through the trees as it vanished deeper into the woods.
“what just happened,” you said, and the voice that came out was deeper and quieter than your own. it startled you so badly you almost dropped the sword still strapped at your hip.
giyuu straightened in your smaller frame, adjusting the sleeves that now hung a little long on him. “body switch. the demon’s blood demon art. last person i touched was you.” he spoke in your voice, which somehow made the whole thing worse. “we need to find it and kill it before the effect becomes permanent.”
you stared at him (at yourself) and felt a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up. “you’re me. i’m you. this is the worst day of my life. i think i need to sit down for a moment.”
“there is no time to sit.” he (in your body) started walking in the direction the demon had fled, steps shorter than usual but still purposeful. “the sword. you will need to use it.”
you followed, the longer legs eating up the ground faster than you were used to. “i barely know how to hold this thing. you’ve only shown me the absolute basics and i still swing like i’m trying to swat a fly.”
“then we practice while we track.” he stopped in a small clearing and turned to face you. “draw the sword.”
you fumbled with the hilt, nearly dropping it twice before managing to pull it free. the weight felt different in these hands—stronger, more balanced but your brain had no idea what to do with the extra reach. giyuu watched with your own eyes, expression as flat as ever even in a face that usually smiled too much.
“stance first,” he said. “feet shoulder width. knees soft. do not lock them.”
you tried. the longer limbs made everything feel off center. “like this?”
“no. your left foot is too far forward.” he stepped closer (still in your body) and nudged your ankle with his shoe. “again.”
the next twenty minutes were a comedy of errors. you swung too wide and nearly took a branch off a tree. you overcorrected and almost stabbed the ground. giyuu kept giving short, precise corrections in your voice, which only made you more distracted.
at one point you spun too hard and the haori flared out like a cape, nearly tripping you.
“this is humiliating,” you muttered, trying to reset your feet for the fifth time. “i’m in the body of a hashira and i still can’t cut air properly.”
“focus.” he demonstrated a basic downward strike with an imaginary sword, your smaller arms moving with surprising control. “the power comes from the hips, not the shoulders. try again.”
somewhere far from the forest, giyuu’s crow circled the ubuyashiki estate in tight, confused loops. the bird had tried to report as usual, but the message kept coming out wrong. one moment it claimed the water hashira was short and talkative. the next it insisted the water hashira was tall and quiet but smelled like sweet potatoes. the other crows had started avoiding it.
by late afternoon the master received word that neither giyuu nor his usual companion had checked in. the absence was unusual enough that he called for two hashira. sanemi arrived first, already scowling. shinobu followed with her usual mild smile, hands folded neatly in her sleeves.
“tomioka and the tagalong are missing,” sanemi said flatly. “or dead. either way i get dragged into it.”
shinobu tilted her head. “the crow is still active, which suggests they are alive. simply… misplaced. or transformed. the messages have been inconsistent.”
sanemi crossed his arms. “of course they have. that bird is as useful as a rock. fine. we follow it. but if this turns into another one of tomioka’s disasters i’m leaving them both in a ditch.”
the crow led them in wide, looping circles through the same stretch of forest for nearly an hour. sanemi’s temper worn with every wrong turn. shinobu remained calm, occasionally offering gentle observations that only seemed to irritate him more.
“perhaps the crow is simply overwhelmed,” she said after the third time they passed the same crooked tree. “stress can affect even the most reliable messengers.”
“the only thing stressed is me,” sanemi snapped. “this is why i hate working with that man. everything around him turns into a mess.”
back in the clearing you finally managed a clean downward cut that did not end with you stumbling. giyuu gave a small nod from your body. “better. again.”
you wiped sweat from a forehead that was not yours. “i think the demon went east. the tracks are fresher that way. also i can hear a stream, and if i were a body switching demon i would probably want water.”
“logical.” he started walking, your shorter legs working double time to keep up with the pace you were now setting in his body. “when we find it, you will need to land the killing blow. the sword is tied to this body. i cannot use it properly in yours.”
you nearly tripped over a root. “no pressure. just behead a demon while wearing your face and hoping i don’t cut my own leg off. completely normal friday.”
the two of you tracked the demon for another hour, following broken branches and the faint scent of blood that only giyuu’s sharper senses (now yours) could pick up. the funniness continued every time you tried to move quietly and failed, or when giyuu had to remind you that his body did not need to duck under branches the same way yours did.
at one point you reached up to push hair out of your eyes and accidentally pulled the entire ponytail loose. giyuu watched with visible restraint while you struggled to retie it with unfamiliar fingers.
sanemi and shinobu were still lost. the crow had led them in a figure eight for so long that even shinobu’s smile had grown a little strained. sanemi finally grabbed the bird mid flight and held it at eye level.
“talk. properly. where is tomioka?”
the crow tilted its head. “the water hashira is both tall and short. the water hashira is talking too much. the water hashira likes grilled fish and is in panic.”
shinobu covered a quiet laugh with her sleeve. “it appears the situation is more complicated than a simple disappearance.”
sanemi dropped the crow in disgust. “i hate this job.”
you and giyuu finally cornered the demon near a rocky cliff as the light began to fade. it looked delighted to see you both still switched. “still playing dress up? how sweet. the effect lasts until one of you dies or i do. take your time deciding.”
giyuu (in your body) stepped aside to give you room. “now.”
you tightened your grip on the sword, tried to remember every correction he had given you, and charged. the first swing missed. the second caught the demon’s arm. the third, fueled by pure frustration and the strange strength of a body that knew how to fight even if the mind inside it didn’t, finally connected cleanly with the neck.
the demon dissolved into ash with a final, furious shriek. the moment the last particles scattered, the cold pressure returned, harder this time. the world tilted again.
when your vision cleared you were back in your own body, smaller, lighter, and suddenly very aware of how much your arms hurt. giyuu stood a few feet away in his own form, already sheathing the sword like nothing unusual had happened. he looked at you once, quiet and assessing.
“you did well.”
you sat down hard on a rock. “i almost died in your body and you’re giving me a performance review. classic.”
before either of you could say more, two sets of footsteps crashed through the underbrush. sanemi appeared first, sword already drawn, expression murderous. shinobu followed at a more steady pace, eyes bright with curiosity.
“there you are,” sanemi snarled. “do you have any idea how long we followed that useless bird? i swear if this was some training exercise i will—”
he stopped mid sentence when he noticed the dissolving remains of the demon and the fact that both of you looked thoroughly disheveled. shinobu’s smile widened.
“body-switching blood demon art,” she guessed lightly. “how fascinating. and you managed to reverse it without permanent damage. impressive.”
sanemi stared at giyuu, then at you, then back at giyuu. “you switched bodies. with the tagalong. and instead of sending a proper message you let the crow lose its mind.”
giyuu’s voice was as flat as ever. “the crow was confused. we were busy.”
you raised a hand weakly. “for the record, swinging a hashira sword while being a hashira is harder than it looks. also i almost cut a tree in half by accident. twice.”
shinobu laughed softly behind her sleeve. “i would have paid to see that.”
sanemi dragged a hand down his face. “i’m surrounded by idiots. next time one of you goes missing i’m sending someone else. anyone else.”
the four of you started the long walk back toward the estate as full dark settled in. sanemi complained the entire way.
shinobu asked polite but probing questions about the sensation of the switch. giyuu answered in single syllables. you filled in the rest with increasingly dramatic reenactments that made shinobu’s eyes shine and sanemi’s scowl deepen.
by the time the lights of the ubuyashiki estate appeared through the trees, the whole ordeal already felt like a strange dream. you walked a little closer to giyuu than usual, still feeling the ghost of his longer stride in your muscles. he glanced down at you.
“next time,” he said, “we practice more.”
you groaned. “there better not be a next time.”
but you were already smiling, and for once he did not look away.
a/n: freaking loved this request bro. ur mind is so brilliant for coming up with this. so thank u
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ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: after having not seeing your parents in a while, you drag giyuu along for a visit just to be heckled by them about marriage.
pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, 8, 9,
you decided it had been too long since you last checked on your parents, so one quiet morning you told giyuu you were heading home for the day and that he was coming with you whether he liked it or not. he blinked at you in that slow way of his, then simply nodded and adjusted his haori like he had already accepted the inevitable.
the walk to your village took most of the morning, the dirt road winding through fields and small clusters of houses under a clear taisho sky. you talked the whole way, filling the silence with stories about childhood mishaps while giyuu listened without complaint, occasionally answering with a short “hm” or a quiet “that sounds dangerous.”
when the familiar wooden gate of your family home came into view, your stomach did a small nervous flip. the place looked the same as always. simple, well kept, with a small garden of herbs near the porch and the smell of wood drifting from the kitchen. your mother spotted you first from the doorway and let out a delighted shout that carried across the yard. she hurried over in her apron, arms already open, and pulled you into a tight hug before turning her bright eyes on giyuu.
“you brought him again,” she said, smiling wide. “good. i was hoping you would. come in, both of you. your father’s just finishing some repairs on the back fence.”
giyuu bowed politely, voice low and even. “thank you for having us.”
your father appeared a moment later, wiping his hands on a cloth. he gave giyuu a long, measuring look that was not unfriendly but definitely curious. “tomioka. still keeping our child out of trouble, i hope.”
giyuu inclined his head once. “i try.”
dinner was set up in the main room with the usual fuss. your mother had made more food than three people could reasonably eat—grilled fish, rice, pickled vegetables, miso soup, and a small plate of sweet potatoes she claimed were “just in case.” you sat between your parents while giyuu took the seat across from you, posture straight and movements careful.
the conversation stayed light at first. your mother asked about the roads, your father asked about the weather farther north, and you filled in the gaps with harmless stories that carefully avoided anything too dangerous.
giyuu answered when spoken to, short and polite, but he ate steadily and even accepted a second helping of fish when your mother insisted. you caught him glancing at you once or twice across the table, as if checking that you were still comfortable.
the meal stretched longer than usual because your parents kept finding new questions, and by the time the bowls were empty the sun had started to sink lower outside the windows.
afterward your mother declared that the men could rest while the two of you handled the dishes. she steered you toward the kitchen with the kind of energy that left no room for argument. giyuu and your father remained in the main room, the low murmur of their voices drifting through the open doorway as you rolled up your sleeves and started stacking plates.
you and your mother worked side by side at the low sink, water splashing softly against the wood. she washed while you dried, the familiar tune of home settling over you.
for a few minutes it was peaceful. then she spoke without looking up from the bowl in her hands.
“so,” she said, voice casual in a way that immediately put you on alert. “when are you two supposed to marry? you have been living with him for so long now that your father and i assumed something serious was going on between you.”
the plate you were holding nearly slipped from your fingers. heat rushed straight up your neck and into your face so fast it felt like someone had lit a small fire under your skin. your stomach flipped hard enough that you had to set the plate down carefully before you dropped it for real. your heart started beating faster, thumping against your ribs like it wanted out.
“what—no—mom, it’s not like that,” you managed, words tumbling over each other. “he’s just a friend. a very quiet, very serious friend who happens to let me tag along because i’m stubborn. there is nothing going on. nothing at all. we are not getting married. that is not even on the table. or the floor. or anywhere.”
your mother kept washing the next bowl with maddening calm, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile. “friends do not usually walk everywhere holding hands, from what i have heard. and friends do not look at each other the way the two of you do when you think no one is watching. but if you say it is only friendship, then of course i believe you.”
you grabbed another plate and scrubbed at an invisible spot with far more force than necessary. “it is only friendship. i swear. my heart is just being dramatic right now for no good reason. ignore it. please ignore everything about this conversation.”
in the other room giyuu had gone completely still. he had heard every word through the open doorway, the quiet of the house carrying your mother’s question and your flustered denial perfectly. his hands rested on his knees, posture unchanged, but something in his expression had changed almost imperceptibly. before he could decide what to do with the information, your father cleared his throat.
“tomioka,” your father said, voice steady and direct. “i think it is time we talked about your intentions with my daughter.”
giyuu turned his head slowly. “intentions?”
“yes.” your father set his tea cup down with a soft click. “you have been traveling together for a long time. you bring her home safely. you sit at our table and eat our food. a father notices these things. so i will ask plainly. what are your intentions?”
the silence that followed felt thick enough to cut. giyuu’s gaze dropped briefly to the floor, then lifted again. when he spoke his voice was as calm as ever, but there was a careful
lit behind each word.
“i intend to keep her safe,” he said. “as long as she allows it. i have no plans that would bring her harm. beyond that… i have not put it into words.”
your father studied him for a long moment. “not put it into words. that is an honest answer, at least. she seems happy when she is with you. that matters more than neat explanations.”
back in the kitchen you were still trying to recover from your mother’s question, cheeks warm and hands a little too busy with the remaining dishes. you had no idea the conversation in the other room had taken such a turn until your father called both of you back in. your mother dried her hands, gave you a knowing look that made your stomach flip all over again, and steered you toward the main room.
giyuu was still seated where you had left him, expression unreadable. your father looked between the two of you with the authority of someone who had already decided the important part.
“we won’t not push the matter further tonight,” your father said. “but know that you are both welcome here. and that we are watching, in the way parents do.”
your mother smiled, softer now. “yes. and next time you visit, stay longer. the guest room is always ready.”
you managed a weak laugh that sounded more like a squeak. “we will. thank you. for dinner. and for not making this more embarrassing than it already is.”
giyuu rose smoothly and bowed to both of them. “thank you for your hospitality.”
the walk back to the road was quieter than the walk in. the sky had turned the deep blue of early evening, and the air smelled of the cooling earth. you walked close enough that your sleeves brushed, neither of you ready to close the small distance completely.
after a while you glanced sideways at him. “so. you heard all of that, huh?”
“yes.”
“and my dad asked you the question.”
“yes.”
you let out a long breath. “well. that was the most awkward family dinner of my life. and i once spilled an entire pot of soup on the floor during new year.”
giyuu’s voice was quiet. “your parents care for you.”
“they do.” you kicked a small stone along the path. “and for the record, i meant what i said in the kitchen. you’re… important. but the marriage thing is a lot. my heart needs a minute to catch up with my mouth.”
he was silent for several steps. then, so softly you almost missed it, he said, “take the time you need.”
you looked at him fully then. the last light caught the edge of his profile, calm and familiar. something warm and unsteady settled in your chest, equal parts nerves and something softer.
“okay,” you said. “i will. and you’re still stuck with me either way. just so we’re clear.”
the faintest shift touched the corner of his mouth. “clear.”
the two of you kept walking until the lights of the village faded behind you and the quieter road toward the estate stretched ahead. it had been a long day of questions, half answers and racing hearts.
Sooo... I've been OBSESSED with your Kny Fics and my favourite one's are the
reader being giyuu's shadow and I was hoping that you would continue it..
I got ideas for two different parts (that's right sweetheart)
So I was thinking the next part be that giyuu and the reader runs into Shinazugawa and iguro amd SOMEHOW the reader makes peace with them (though they still don't like giyu they like you a little bit) and for the part next (only if you want to do any of the parts because I'm not forcing you) maybe the reader wants to check up on their parents and they take giyu with them and after dinner together when the reader is helping their mother with dishes the mother pops the question 'So when are you two supposed to marry' because they've been living with giyuu for so long she and their father assumed that something is going on between them and reader is all flustered and denying it saying that he is only their friend though it makes their stomach flip and their heart do a wierd thing and in the other room giyuu over heard it and suddenly the reader's father asks giyuu that what are his intentions with his daughter.
I'm soooo sorry for this req be this long but I just loveee babbling 😭😭
Thank you sooo much for reading this and you can ignore it or deny it if you don't want to alrightt?? i wouldn't mind at all because I know you also might have to deal with your own stuff that is way more important thank you anyways!
hihihi<333 genuinely appreciate that you love this lil series and are giving me ideas🫶 i wanna apologize for how LONG this took omfg i’m so sorry buuuuut let’s get into it
𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐭 𝟗
ɢɪʏᴜᴜ ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏᴋᴀ • ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ • ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ
pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, 8
the hashira estate is unusually peaceful.
that alone should have been your first warning.
most mornings around headquarters involved at least one loud argument, somebody training hard enough to shake nearby trees, or tengen dramatically announcing something nobody had asked about. today, however, the paths were quiet enough that you could hear birds hopping through the grass, the soft breeze stirring bamboo leaves, and the distant clack of wooden swords somewhere beyond the trees.
you hum to yourself as you wander through the winding paths with no real destination in mind.
giyuu had been called away early that morning by kagaya for something he hadn't elaborated on beyond a simple, "i'll be back later."
which, translated from giyuu language, probably meant anywhere between twenty minutes and five hours.
that left you to entertain yourself.
you'd already watched a pair of sparrows unsuccessfully bully a crow twice their size away from a rice ball. you'd visited the butterfly estate long enough for aoi to insist you take fresh tea before politely shooing you back outside because, according to her, "the girls are supposed to be working, not gossiping."
so now you were simply... walking.
you had a small bag of sweet potatoes tucked under one arm and were already thinking about how giyuu would probably pretend not to care when you offered him the best one.
which was how you accidentally turned the corner and nearly walked straight into sanemi shinazugawa.
he stopped just as abruptly.
you stopped.
for a long moment, neither of you spoke.
"...hi?" you offered carefully.
sanemi stared at you with the same expression people usually reserved for finding an unexpected spider inside their shoe.
"..."
"..."
"...you."
"...me."
"..."
"...good observation?"
his eye twitched, "don't start."
you immediately raised both hands in surrender, "i wasn't starting anything. i was acknowledging your incredible powers of recognition."
before he could answer, another familiar voice drifted from farther down the path.
"shinazugawa."
obanai approached with his usual composed stride, kaburamaru comfortably draped around his shoulders. he seemed prepared to say something else until his eyes landed on you, causing the rest of the sentence to quietly disappear.
"..."
"..."
"...oh."
you smiled brightly. "hi, iguro."
he gave a small nod. "...hello."
"...you know each other?" sanemi looked between the two of you.
"we've met.”
"your snake likes me."
kaburamaru immediately lifted his head, almost as if on cue.
his tongue flicked once before he calmly slid halfway down
obanai's shoulder toward you.
obanai watched the betrayal unfold in complete silence.
"...kaburamaru?"
the snake ignored him completely.
you laughed quietly before holding out your arm. kaburamaru happily slithered across it with all the confidence of someone visiting an old friend instead of abandoning his owner in broad daylight.
"there he is," you said warmly. "hello again."
the little snake rested comfortably around your wrist.
"...unbelievable," obanai muttered.
you blinked. "what?"
"he doesn't do that."
"...maybe he just has excellent taste."
after a few minutes of silence you decided to try again. “so. random question. do either of you actually like sweet potatoes? i bought too many and giyuu only eats like two before he decides he’s full. waste not, want not, and all that.”
sanemi side eyed the bag. “i eat whatever. doesn’t mean i want your leftovers.”
obanai spoke more carefully. “i prefer things that aren’t overly sweet. but the gesture is… noted.”
you pulled out one of the warm potatoes and held it out toward them. “here. peace offering. no strings. just food. you can even pretend i didn’t buy it if that helps.”
sanemi stared at the potato like it might be poisoned. then he grabbed it with a rough motion and took a bite. “it’s fine. not terrible.”
obanai accepted a smaller one after a longer pause. he broke off a piece and fed it to kaburamaru first, which somehow made the whole thing feel less hostile “adequate.”
you smiled a little. “see? progress. we’re already sharing food. next thing you know we’ll be talking about the weather.”
sanemi chewed and swallowed. “don’t push it. i still think tomioka’s an idiot. always has been. acts like the rest of us are beneath him.”
you kept walking, choosing your words carefully. “i get why you think that. he doesn’t explain himself much. half the time i have to guess what he’s thinking. but he’s not trying to look down on anyone. he’s just… bad at people. really bad.”
obanai’s eyes narrowed. “and yet you stay. why?”
you shrugged, adjusting the bag again. “because when he does say something it actually matters. and because he never once told me to leave even when i was being annoying. which is most of the time. also he has this face he makes when he’s trying not to smile and it’s kind of funny. not that i’d tell him that.”
sanemi made a noise that might have been a laugh if it wasn’t so rough. “you’re as weird as he is.”
“probably,” you agreed. “but at least i’m honest about it.”
the path curved and the three of you ended up near a small open area where a few children were playing with wooden sticks. one of them accidentally sent a stick flying and it nearly hit sanemi in the leg. the kid froze, eyes wide.
sanemi looked down at the child for a long second, then crouched without a word and picked up the stick. he held it out carefully, voice lower than usual. “here. try holding it closer to the middle next time so it doesn’t fly off like that. you’ll get better control.”
the child took the stick with both hands, still a little nervous but no longer ready to cry. you watched the whole thing in mild surprise before stepping closer and crouching down as well. “hey, no harm done. sticks go flying sometimes. you okay?”
the kid nodded shyly. you handed over one of the smaller sweet potatoes from your bag. “here. go share with your friends.”
the child took it and ran off, looking relieved. when you stood back up both hashira were staring at you.
sanemi spoke first. “you didn’t have to do that.”
“i know,” you said. “but kids are kids. and you look scary enough without adding a lecture.”
obanai’s voice was quieter than usual. “kanroji does similar things. she would approve.”
you glanced at him. “mitsuri’s nice. she and i talked once about food and feelings and somehow ended up laughing for twenty minutes. she’s good people.”
obanai’s posture relaxed a fraction. “she is. that is why i watch her so carefully.”
“you two are soft,” sanemi grunted.
you bumped his arm lightly with your elbow. “and you’re loud. we all have our things.”
somehow the conversation kept going after that. you told them about the time you tried to cook for giyuu and nearly set the pot on fire. sanemi actually snorted. obanai asked a few dry questions about how giyuu reacted, and you answered honestly—he had just put the fire out and then sat down to eat the less burned parts without complaining.
the sun moved lower in the sky while you walked. at one point you all stopped at a small tea stall because your throat was dry from talking. you paid for three cups before either of them could argue. sanemi drank his in two long gulps. obanai sipped more carefully, kaburamaru resting quietly on his shoulders.
“you know,” you said after a while, “i don’t need you two to like giyuu. that’s never going to happen and i’m not stupid enough to try. but maybe we can agree that i’m not the enemy here. i just happen to be the person who makes him slightly less miserable.”
sanemi stared into his empty cup. “slightly less miserable is still an improvement for him. doesn’t mean i have to like it.”
obanai set his cup down. “you are… less annoying than expected. that is all i will say.”
you grinned. “i’ll take it. high praise from the two of you.”
they both looked away at the same time, which only made it funnier.
by the time the sky started turning orange you had somehow ended up sitting on a low wall near the river, the three of you facing the water. the bag of sweet potatoes was almost empty. sanemi had eaten three. obanai had shared one with his snake. you had saved the last one for giyuu.
sanemi finally spoke without the usual edge. “if tomioka ever does something truly stupid—more stupid than usual—you tell me. i’ll handle it.”
you raised an eyebrow. “is that an offer of help or a threat?”
“both,” he said. “depending on the day.”
obanai adjusted kaburamaru. “and if you ever need distance from him, for any reason, kanroji and i can provide it. temporarily.”
you looked between them, feeling something warm settle in your chest. “thanks. really. that means more than you probably realize.”
sanemi stood up first, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “don’t get used to it. this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
obanai rose more smoothly. “correct. it means we tolerate you. slightly.”
“slightly is better than nothing. i’ll take the win,” you stood as well, bag lighter now.
they started walking back toward the main path. you fell into step with them for a few more minutes until the road split. sanemi went one way, muttering something about training. obanai went the other, already heading in the direction of the love estate, no doubt to find mitsuri.
you watched them go for a second, then turned toward the place where giyuu would be waiting. the last sweet potato felt warm against your side.
when you finally found him near the gates he was standing exactly where you expected, hands in his sleeves, eyes scanning the path. the second he saw you his posture shifted just enough that you noticed.
“you were gone longer than usual,” he said.
you held up the remaining potato. “ran into sanemi and obanai. somehow we didn’t kill each other. even shared food. i think they like me a little now. still feel the same about you though.”
giyuu blinked once. “expected.”
you stepped closer and pressed the potato into his hand. “they said some almost nice things. and they offered help if i ever needed it. weird day.”
he looked down at the potato, then back at you. “you’re alright?”
“yeah,” you said. “better than alright. i think i made two new almost friends. progress.”
the corner of his mouth moved the tiniest bit. “as long as you’re safe.”
you linked your arm through his and started walking toward the estate. “always. now come on. i want to hear about the meeting, and you need to eat this before it gets cold.”
he let you pull him along without resistance. behind you the last light of the day faded over the river, and somewhere in the distance sanemi was probably still scowling while obanai quietly decided you were against all odds, acceptable.
sanemi was sprawled across the engawa, one leg stretched out and the other bent, his forearm resting lazily on his knee as he sharpened his blade. the scrape of whetstone against steel filled the air, his usual scowl painted across his face. he looked busy, but you were already scheming.
you padded over quietly, crouching just close enough for your shadow to fall across him. he grunted without looking up. “what do you want?”
you smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that always made him narrow his eyes like he knew you were up to something. “nothinggg, just… wanted to be near you. you look so strong like this, all focused.”
his head snapped up immediately, suspicion carved into every line of his scarred face. “don’t start with that crap.”
“what crap?” you tilted your head, batting your eyelashes in exaggerated innocence.
he squinted. “that fake sweet voice. you only use it when you want something.”
“that’s not true,” you said quickly, plopping down beside him. “i just like reminding you how handsome you are. and strong. and, honestly, you’re the bravest man i know.” you let your voice drip with honey, layering it on thicker than usual.
sanemi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “here we go…”
you leaned into his shoulder, tracing a finger over the hard muscle of his arm. “i mean, look at these veins. do you even know how attractive you are? i’m the luckiest person alive.”
he shifted uncomfortably, ears starting to turn pink even as his scowl deepened. “cut it out. just tell me what you want.”
“nothing!” you protested again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “can’t i compliment my boyfriend without there being some ulterior motive?”
his side eye was brutal. “no.”
you laughed under your breath, your hand now sneaking down to rest on his knee. “okay, fine. you caught me. but it’s really not that big of a deal.”
he snorted. “if you’re buttering me up this much, it’s a big deal.”
you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “well… i was just thinking… you’re so much better at carrying heavy things than me. and i’ve been meaning to get some supplies from town, but they’re like, really heavy. and you’re the strongest, bravest, handsomest—”
“stop,” he cut in, his voice sharp, though his face was betraying him—cheeks flushed, jaw tight. “just spit it out. you want me to go to town and haul your crap, don’t you?”
you pouted dramatically. “it sounds so cold when you put it that way. i was going to say, help me get them.”
sanemi shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how you drove him insane. “tch. every damn time. you think i don’t see through your little act? you butter me up, kiss me a few times, and boom—I’m stuck doing whatever you want.”
“because it works,” you said cheerfully, planting another kiss on his jaw.
he rolled his eyes, grumbling, but the way he shoved his blade back into its sheath told you you’d already won. “fine. but only because you’d probably hurt yourself trying to lift half that crap alone. and don’t think this means your sweet talk worked.”
“mm, of course not,” you said innocently, already grinning as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “i just love you, that’s all.”
he barked out a laugh, more exasperated than anything, standing up and ruffling your hair roughly. “yeah, yeah. keep telling yourself that.”
but as he hoisted the sword onto his shoulder and started toward the gate, you could see the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
and you knew he’d do it all over again tomorrow if you asked.
ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✷ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ ✷ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ✷
you should’ve known better, seriously.
not because the idea was bad. the idea was actually cute. a surprise party for katsuki, something lowkey, just your people. nothing big, nothing that would piss him off. it was supposed to be one evening where he could relax without anyone making a huge deal out of his birthday.
the problem is… you tried to be sneaky.
you’ve been dating katsuki bakugo long enough to know you cannot outsmart him. not even a little. not even on a good day. and yet here you are, whispering in corners with kirishima and izuku disappearing at random times, acting weird as hell… all for a surprise party he didn’t even ask for.
and now it’s blowing up in your face.
✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷
“why are you whispering?”
his voice comes from behind you, flat and immediate, making your shoulders tense before you even have the chance to react. you freeze mid step, your phone still in your hand with kirishima’s last text glowing across the screen. for one terrible second, your brain completely blanks.
you don’t even turn around right away.
rookie mistake.
“…i’m not,” you answer, trying to sound casual.
you hear him scoff before you even look at him.
“you are. you’ve been acting weird all week.”
forcing your face into something you hope looks normal, you finally turn toward him. “i’m literally just texting.”
his eyes flick down toward your phone before returning to your face, studying every tiny expression like he’s already solved a puzzle you haven’t even realized you’re putting together.
“who.”
you blink. “what?”
“who are you texting.”
you hesitate for half a second, and that's all it takes. the smallest pause is enough for katsuki to notice, enough for him to start connecting dots that were never supposed to exist in the first place.
his eyes narrow immediately. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”
“no—what does that even mean—”
“it means you’re being shady as hell,” he cuts in, voice already rising. “you think i’m stupid or something?”
you let out a slow breath, desperately trying to stop this conversation from snowballing into something worse. “it’s not that serious, katsuki.”
“then why the hell can’t you answer a simple question?”
because if you say kirishima, he’s gonna ask why.
if you say izuku, he’s definitely gonna ask why.
and if you say “nothing,” he’s going to keep staring at you like this until you fold.
your options are terrible.
so, naturally…
you do the worst possible thing.
you shrug.
✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷
after that, it just gets worse.
you keep slipping away whenever you think he isn't paying attention. you disappear at random times, whisper with kirishima whenever he walks by, text izuku far more than usual, and dodge almost every question katsuki throws your way. every attempt at acting natural somehow makes you look even guiltier than before.
you think you’re being subtle.
you are not.
✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷
“you’re doing it again.”
he’s leaning against the doorway now, arms folded across his chest as he watches you hurriedly shove something into your bag before zipping it shut just a little too quickly.
“doing what?” you ask, refusing to look up.
“acting like you’ve got something to hide.”
“i don’t.”
“then look at me when you say it.”
you don’t and now he’s really getting irritated.
“unbelievable,” he mutters, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. “this is getting real old.”
you sigh, trying your hardest to keep your voice light despite the growing knot in your stomach, “you’re overthinking it.”
he lets out a sharp laugh. “oh yeah? i’m overthinking? or you’re just bad at lying.”
you roll your eyes. “i’m not lying.”
“then what the hell is going on?”
“nothing.”
“stop saying nothing!” he snaps.
the sudden sharpness in his voice makes you flinch before you can stop yourself. it's tiny, barely noticeable, but katsuki catches it immediately.
you flinch a little, but you’re stubborn. “because it is nothing.”
he stares at you for several long seconds, his jaw so tight you can practically see the muscles flexing.
“…right.”
that's when you realize this isn't just irritation anymore, he's genuinely angry.
✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷
the night of the party finally arrives.
everything is exactly where it's supposed to be. decorations hang from the walls, food is spread across every available surface, balloons have somehow survived mina's decorating methods, and every light has been switched off. your friends are squeezed into hiding spots that definitely weren't designed to fit full grown people, all waiting for the front door to open.
you stand closest to the entrance, your own heartbeat sounding louder than everyone else's whispers combined.
“you sure he’s coming?” kirishima murmurs from somewhere behind the couch.
“yeah,” you whisper back. “i told him i needed help with something.”
“man,” he mutters, “he better not blow up at us for this.”
you let out a tiny huff.
“he won’t.”
you hope.
✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷
the front door unlocks.
heavy footsteps echo through the entryway before the door closes with a little more force than usual.
“where are you?”
his voice cuts through the darkness immediately.
not confused.
not curious.
just irritated.
your stomach drops.
“…i’m here,” you answer quietly, stepping forward just enough for him to make out your silhouette. the lights remain off, everyone stays hidden, and for one hopeful second, you think maybe he'll simply follow you farther inside without asking questions.
instead, he shuts the door behind him harder than necessary.
“what the hell is going on?” he says, walking toward you. “you’ve been acting like a damn idiot all week.”
okay. not ideal. behind the couch… in the kitchen… literally pressed against the wall like idiots… everyone is hiding.
you force yourself to smile anyway. “can you relax for like two seconds—”
“don’t tell me to relax!” he snaps immediately. “you think i haven’t noticed? sneaking around, whispering with shitty hair and deku—”
“hey—” kirishima whispers from behind the couch, sounding genuinely offended.
you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
“—you really think i wouldn’t figure it out?”
“…figure what out?” you ask carefully.
he laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it.
“don’t play dumb with me.”
you feel your chest tighten a little. “i’m not playing anything.”
“yeah? then what is it?”
you hesitate again and that tiny pause is enough to completely destroy whatever chance you had at talking him down.
his voice raises, sharp and angry. “stop fucking playing with me.”
you freeze.
“i’m not an idiot,” he continues, taking another step closer. “if you’ve got something to say, say it. i’m not gonna stand here while you... what? sneak around behind my back like i won’t notice?”
“with kirishima?” you whisper, horrified.
“i don’t care who it is,” he shoots back immediately. “you think i wouldn’t notice you avoiding me? acting all secretive? you barely even look at me lately.”
that part hits harder than you expect.
because… that’s kind of true. you’ve been avoiding him. on purpose for the surprise. but hearing it like this—like it actually bothered him—makes something twist in your chest painfully.
your throat goes tight.
“it’s not like that,” you say, quieter now.
“then what is it?” he demands, voice rising again. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around behind my back with some extra and thinking i wouldn’t notice.”
you shake your head, trying to keep it together even as your chest starts to tighten. “you’re making this into something it’s not—”
“then explain it!”
“no, it’s not like that at all—” you insist, shaking your head quickly.
“prove it.”
you freeze.
he just stands there, staring at you, waiting for an answer that never comes. you open your mouth, ready to say something—anything…but the words die before they can leave your lips. you still can't tell him the truth without ruining everything.
and that's it.
“unbelievable,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “i’m not dealing with this shit.”
“katsuki, wait—”
“nah, don’t,” he cuts you off again, louder this time. “don’t even bother.”
your eyes immediately begin to sting.
you never thought it would go this far. you figured he'd get annoyed, maybe suspicious, maybe spend the rest of the evening glaring at you until you finally gave in. you never imagined he'd look at you like this, genuinely believing you'd been hiding something from him.
“you know what pisses me off the most?” he continues, pacing now because he's clearly too worked up to stand still. “it’s not even the sneaking around. it’s the fact you think i wouldn’t notice. like i’m some idiot you can just play with.”
“i’m not playing with you,” you say, your voice shaking despite trying to keep it steady.
he stops pacing and looks at you again. for a brief second, something flickers across his face, something that almost looks like doubt, like part of him wants to believe you. then the moment passes, his expression hardening all over again.
the stress, the pressure, the fact you’d spent the entire week trying so hard to do something nice for him and it’s turned into this huge mess
your vision blurs before you can stop it...
you start crying.
it's quiet at first, just one shaky breath before another follows. you hate that it's happening now of all times, but once the tears start, they're impossible to stop. of course he notices immediately. somehow, he always notices.
his whole posture shifts.
“...what the hell are you crying for?” he says, but it’s not as harsh now. more confused than angry.
you shake your head, wiping at your face quickly. “nothing. it’s fine.”
it’s not fine, it’s very obviously not fine.
“she’s not cheating on you, bro!” kaminari’s voice explodes from behind the couch.
everything freezes.
katsuki slowly turns toward the sound while kaminari awkwardly rises from his hiding place. then mina stands up, then kirishima, izuku, sero, and everyone else, each one emerging with streamers, balloons, party hats, and expressions that scream, this is going so much worse than we planned.
“surprise?” mina says, but it comes out way too unsure.
someone turns on a string of lights and almost immediately, the birthday banner begins peeling away from the wall before one side gives up entirely and droops crookedly toward the floor.
it’s the most awkward reveal in history.
because the timing? horrible. actually horrible.
no one moves for a second.
you’re standing there crying. katsuki’s standing there looking like he just got hit with a truck.
and everyone else is frozen halfway through a celebration.
“...uh,” kirishima says slowly, still holding the banner like he isn't sure what to do with it anymore. “happy birthday bro...?”
katsuki just stares, then he looks back at you.
and that’s when he sees that you’re already crying. not loud. not dramatic. just quiet, frustrated tears that you’re clearly trying to wipe away before they get worse.
“…you planned this?” he says, voice dropping.
you nod once, not trusting yourself to talk.
there’s a beat, then another.
“shit,” kirishima mutters under his breath.
you just turn and walk out. fast, before anyone can say anything else, before you completely lose it in front of all of them.
you barely make it halfway down the hallway before your vision blurs again. your shoulders shake despite your best efforts to steady your breathing, and you angrily wipe at your face, frustrated with yourself more than anything else.
because, yeah, this wasn't supposed to happen.
none of this was supposed to happen.
“hey.”
his voice comes from directly behind you.
of course he followed.
you keep walking anyway.
“oi,” he says again, much closer this time. “stop walking.”
you don't.
so he reaches out and catches your wrist. it's not rough and it doesn't hurt, just firm enough to make you stop without pulling you backward.
you don’t turn around.
“…look at me.”
after a long moment you slowly turn.
your eyes are still wet, you hate that he can see that.
he notices immediately. his expression… changes.
and this time it doesn’t go back.
“you were planning that?” he asks, quieter now.
you nod once.
“with shitty hair and deku?”
“yeah.”
“for me?”
“…yeah.”
bakugo rubs the back of his neck, clearly irritated—at himself this time. “why didn’t you just tell me to stop?” he asks.
“because it was supposed to be a surprise,” you answer honestly. “and you don’t fall for anything, so i had to actually try.”
“…you’re terrible at lying,” he says.
“i know.”
another pause.
another quiet pause settles between you before he reaches up and awkwardly wipes beneath your eye with his thumb.
“you’re still crying,” he mutters.
“because you yelled at me,” you mumble.
“…yeah.”
he lets out a slow breath before pulling you into him, one arm wrapping around your back. the hug is warm, the kind that feels surprisingly gentle coming from someone like him.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says into your hair. “i just—i don’t like when things feel off with you.”
you go still for a second. because that sounds… honest. very him, but also not something he says out loud often.
“you could’ve just asked normally,” you mumble.
“i did.”
“you yelled.”
“…same thing.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, “it’s not.”
he clicks his tongue but, for once, doesn't argue. instead, he lets out an exaggerated sigh before forcing the next words out like they're physically painful. “fine. next time i’ll ‘ask nicely.’”
you squint at him, “that sounded painful.”
“it was.”
you laugh again, quieter this time.
he watches you for another second before gently nudging his forehead against yours.
“…the party’s for me?”
“was,” you tease. “kind of ruined now.”
he scoffs, “it’s not ruined.”
“i cried in front of everyone.”
“i’ll yell at them too. balance it out.”
you shake your head, smiling despite yourself.
he notices. that's enough for him.
katsuki grabs your hand and starts leading you back toward the living room.
“come on,” he says. “we’re not wasting it.”
“you don’t even like parties.”
“i like free food.
“…that’s fair.”
when the two of you walk back into the room together, everyone immediately falls silent again. dozens of eyes dart nervously between the two of you, waiting to see whether they're about to witness another argument or the world's most uncomfortable birthday party.
katsuki looks around the room, unimpressed. “what the hell are you all staring at?” he snaps. “play the damn music or something.”
immediate chaos resumes.
kaminari lets out the loudest sigh of relief you've ever heard. mina rushes toward the cake before it has another chance to slide off the table, while kirishima flashes you a thumbs-up like you'd both just survived an actual life or death mission.
you glance toward katsuki.
he's already looking back at you.
“…next time,” he mutters quietly enough that only you can hear, “just tell me.”
you smirk. “next time, don’t assume i’m cheating on you.”
his voice carries out from the bedroom, flat but louder than usual, the kind of tone that means he’s already decided this is taking too long and is no longer pretending to be patient about it.
you’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror doing absolutely nothing important. reapplying lip balm for the third time. checking your reflection like something might have changed in the last thirty seconds. mostly just existing in that little pocket of time before you have to admit the night is over.
“yeah, hold on,” you call back, dragging the words out on purpose because you can, and because you know exactly how it’ll land.
there’s a pause. then:
“you said that ten minutes ago.”
you glance at yourself again, fixing something that doesn’t need. “and i meant it ten minutes ago too.”
silence stretches. you can practically feel the irritation building from the other room, thick and inevitable. you pick up your phone, scroll for a few seconds just to look occupied, then set it back down like you’ve suddenly remembered something important. you haven’t.
“what are you even doing?” he calls again. closer this time.
you look toward the doorway just as he appears, hair a little messy already, t-shirt slightly wrinkled like he’s been lying down waiting and got tired of it. he looks comfortable. and annoyed.
“important things,” you say.
he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, staring at you with that particular quiet judgment he does so well. “…you’re not doing anything.”
“i am.”
“you’re standing there.”
“i’m thinking.”
he exhales slowly through his nose, the sound of a man recalculating his life choices. “about what.”
you shrug, still half turned toward the mirror. “stuff.”
he watches you for another second, then pushes off the doorframe and walks in, stopping just behind you. you see him in the mirror—eyes dropping to your phone, then back to your face. “…you’re stalling.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
you turn slightly, leaning your hip against the counter so you’re facing him more. “why do you care so much.”
he pauses, just long enough for it to be noticeable. “…i don’t.”
you raise an eyebrow. “then go to sleep.”
“i was.”
“then what’s the problem.”
“…you’re making noise.”
you blink at him. “i’m literally standing still.”
“earlier,” he corrects quickly. “you were moving around.”
you nod slowly, pretending to give that the serious consideration it doesn’t deserve. “so you came all the way here because of… noise.”
“…yeah.”
“not because you want me in bed?”
he looks at you, deadpan. “…no.”
you smile a little. “okay.”
his eyes narrow slightly. “…you’re doing this on purpose.”
“doing what?”
“taking forever.”
“i said i’m almost done.”
“you’ve been almost done for like fifteen minutes.”
“time is subjective.”
he stares at you like he genuinely regrets every decision that led to this moment. “…you’re annoying.”
“and yet you came to get me.”
“i didn’t come to get you.”
you cross your arms, smiling wider now. “then go.”
he doesn’t. he just stands there looking at you, jaw tight, clearly fighting the urge to say something less patient.
“…come with me.”
you bite back a grin. “you go first.”
“…no.”
“why?”
he looks away for a second, then back at you. “…just come.”
you tilt your head, dragging it out. “say please.”
he immediately frowns. “no.”
“then i’m not coming.”
“…you’re annoying.”
“and you’re still standing here.”
he exhales, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying very hard to stay reasonable. “just come to bed.”
you smile wider and turn back to the mirror like you’ve suddenly remembered something extremely important that requires your full attention. “then i guess i’ll take my time.”
there’s a long pause behind you. you hear him move.
then his hand wraps around your wrist—not rough, just firm enough to stop the charade.
you look at him through the mirror. “…what?”
“you’re done,” he says.
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
“i’m still thinking.”
“you can think in bed.”
you huff a quiet laugh. “you’re impatient.”
“you’re dragging it out.”
“maybe.”
he watches you for another second. then, without saying anything else, he gently pulls you toward him. you stumble a little from the sudden
movement. “megumi—”
“you’re done,” he repeats.
“i didn’t even—”
he doesn’t let go of your wrist. he just starts walking you out of the bathroom like the decision has already been made and your input is no longer required. you let him, mostly because it’s funny and also because he’s clearly losing what little patience he had left.
“you’re so bossy,” you mumble as he guides you down the hall.
“you’re so slow.”
“i’m not slow.”
“you are at night.”
“wow.”
he doesn’t bother responding, just keeps walking until you’re both back in his room. the bed’s already a mess, blanket pulled back on one side like he’d been waiting and gave up pretending otherwise. you notice, of course you do.
he lets go of your wrist once you’re near the bed, but his hand immediately shifts to your arm instead, guiding you down.
“okay, okay,” you say, laughing a little. “i’m here.”
“finally.”
you sit, then look up at him. “…you missed me.”
“i didn’t.”
“you did.”
“i didn’t.”
“you literally came to get me.”
megumi doesn’t answer. he just grabs the blanket and pulls it over you like that somehow ends the conversation.
you snort softly. “you’re so obvious.”
“shut up and lay down.”
“make me.”
he pauses. then, without a word, he reaches for you again—this time pulling you down properly so your head hits the pillow. “hey—”
before you can finish, he’s already lying down next to you. close. his arm slides around your waist like it’s automatic, pulling you in until there’s barely any space left between you.
you go still for a second. “…megumi?”
“yes?”
“you’re such a baby.”
“no i’m not.”
you turn your head slightly to look at him. he’s already closing his eyes, like he didn’t just drag you into bed five seconds ago and is now pretending this was always the plan.
“…you were waiting for this.”
“i wasn’t.”
“you were.”
“go to sleep.”
you smile a little, shifting just enough to get comfortable against him. his arm tightens slightly when you move—subtle, but there.
“you’re clingy at night,” you mumble.
“…i’m not.”
“you are.”
“i’m not.”
you hum softly. “okay.”
he doesn’t respond. he just pulls you a little closer, his hand resting against your side now, fingers barely moving like he’s making sure you’re actually there and not about to disappear back into the bathroom.
you let your head settle against his shoulder. quiet. comfortable.
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I was thinking of a Sae Itoshi x Reader story, where Reader asks Sae to have a baby, and Sae thinks about it for a while until she says, "Today we're going to create that baby." It's worth noting that they are already married.
Thank you!!!
hii hii!! i’m so glad you enjoy my stories🥹 that means a lot to me <33
i love this ideaaaa😛 i didn’t know if you wanted smut or not but definitely suggestive (my apologies it’s a bit short:/)
pairing: sae itoshi x reader
genre: fluff, domestic, light romance
warnings: midly suggestive
you’re sitting on the couch in the living room, legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone while sae sits next to you with one arm stretched along the backrest. he’s been quiet for a while, which isn’t unusual.
the television’s on low, some random cooking show neither of you is really watching. the apartment smells faintly like the takeout you ordered earlier, and the only real sound is the soft clink of ice shifting in the glass he set down a few minutes ago.
you glance over at him. his eyes are half-lidded, that usual unreadable expression on his face, like he’s calculating something only he can see. you set your phone down and turn a little toward him.
“sae.”
he doesn’t look at you right away. just makes a quiet hum in his throat to show he’s listening.
“i want a baby.”
that gets his attention. his head turns slowly, teal eyes settling on you with that flat, assessing stare he uses when someone’s said something unexpected. one eyebrow lifts a fraction
“…a baby,” he repeats, voice low and even. “you’re serious.”
you nod. “yeah. i’ve been thinking about it for a while. we’re married. we’re stable. i just… i want one. with you.”
he stays quiet. not the uncomfortable kind of quiet. the thinking kind. he leans back a little more against the couch, gaze drifting somewhere past your shoulder while his fingers tap once against the fabric. you can almost see the gears turning. practical. clinical. the way he always approaches anything that isn’t already decided in his head.
“you know what that means,” he says after a long moment. “no more sleeping in. constant noise. someone completely dependent on us for years. schedules get wrecked. privacy disappears. money goes toward things that aren’t for us anymore. and it’s permanent. there’s no taking it back once it starts.”
“i know.”
“and you’re still asking.”
“yes.”
he studies your face like he’s looking for a crack in the logic. finding none, he exhales through his nose. “hm.”
you wait. he doesn’t rush. never does. he just sits there, processing, occasionally glancing at you like he’s checking if you’ve changed your mind in the last thirty seconds. you haven’t. you keep your eyes on him, calm, patient, even when the cooking show host starts yelling about a soufflé collapsing and the commercial break kicks in with some overly cheerful jingle.
“there’s logistics,” he continues eventually, almost to himself. “your body. recovery time. how it changes the way we live day to day. i’d have to adjust everything. priorities shift whether i want them to or not.” he rubs his thumb along the edge of the couch cushion. “and you’re sure this isn’t just… a temporary feeling.”
“it’s not temporary.”
another stretch of silence. longer this time. he looks at you again, really looks, like he’s weighing every possible outcome and still hasn’t landed on a final answer.
his expression doesn’t soften, but it doesn’t harden either. he’s just… thinking. still deciding. still turning the whole thing over in that sharp, relentless way of his.
you watch him for a few more seconds, then lean in a little closer, voice quieter but steady.
“today we’re going to create that baby.”
his eyes flick back to yours immediately. the words hang there between you. he doesn’t answer right away. doesn’t smirk or push back or agree, just holds your gaze.
then, almost as an afterthought, you adds, “unless you’d rather wait until after dinner. but i don’t see the point in delaying once the decision’s made.”
a quiet huff leaves him—almost a laugh, but not quite. “you’re ridiculous.”
“i would methodical,”. you correct, already standing and offering him your hand. “come on. we have work to do.”
and just like that, the conversation is over. decision made. plan in motion.
you're back in the madrid apartment with a tiny human who looks exactly like sae but screams like you. haru—peach for short, because those cheeks are adorable—is a couple weeks old, has sae's teal eyes and your lips.
oh and your talent for being dramatically unhappy about everything.
you're on the couch at 2 pm, shirt half unbuttoned, baby latched on like he's trying to drain you, when sae walks in from training. he's sweaty, hair sticking up and still somehow looks hot while you feel gross.
"he eat yet?" he asks, dropping his bag by the door.
"he's eating right now, genius. been on me for forty minutes. my nipple's hurt."
sae kicks off his shoes, and comes over. he slides a hand under haru's butt, checks the diaper situation, then lifts the baby off you in one smooth motion. peach detaches with a wet pop and immediately starts yelling about the injustice.
“shh. you’re fine,” sae mutters, settling him against his chest. the screaming drops to grumpy hiccups instantly. traitor.
you flop sideways on the couch, too tired to even fix your bra. “i wished you hugged me more when i was in labor. like, wow, i’m pushing out your baby and this is what i get?”
"you screamed at me for breathing too loud," he says, rocking side to side. peach's eyes are already drooping. "and then you cried because i wasn't holding your hand hard enough."
"i was splitting in half, sae. you try being polite."
he glances down at the baby, then at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "you did good."
you blink. that's basically an "i love you" in sae speak. you're about to milk it for all it's worth when peach burps and spits up down sae's training shirt.
"perfect," sae deadpans, holding the baby out like he's a bomb. "your son just marked me."
"he's claiming territory. smart kid."
you laugh until your stomach hurts. sae disappears to change both of them. when he comes back peach is in a tiny real madrid onesie (of course) and sae's in a plain black tee that somehow makes the milk stain situation look intentional.
"so," you say, stretching, "mom lands in three days. she's staying three weeks this time. prepare yourself."
sae sits on the armchair, baby asleep against his shoulder now. "you already told me. four times."
"i'm excited, okay? i need someone who'll baby me while i baby the baby. you just hand him over when he cries and go look at match footage."
"i also warm the bottles to exactly 37 degrees and change ninety percent of the diapers at night," he says, voice flat. "but sure, i do nothing."
you stick your tongue out. he ignores it like the mature guy he is.
three days later you're at the madrid airport looking like a zombie, running on no sleep, hair in a knot. peach is in the baby carrier against your chest, drooling on your boobs as usual.
your mom spots you first and basically sprints, arms out, tears already starting. "my baby! and my grandbaby! oh my god look at him he's so tiny—"
sae takes the suitcase from her without a word because he knows what's coming. sure enough, she hugs you so hard haru squeaks, then takes him gently out of the carrier to smother him while cooing.
"mom, oxygen, he needs it—"
"he's perfect, look at these cheeks! my little peach! sae-kun, you made a very handsome boy."
sae gives the tiniest nod. "thank you."
she beams at him like he just scored a world cup winning goal.
back at the apartment she immediately starts unpacking snacks she brought from japan— baby clothes, melatonin gummies for you, aloe vera jelly drinks you pretend to like, and an entire suitcase of froze homemade food.
"i made curry, steak, onigiri filling-everything. you're not surviving on spanish ham anymore."
sae, holding peach so you can hug your mom properly, mutters, "finally."
you elbow him. "you like jamón."
"not three meals a day for six months." your mom bustles into and within an hour the whole apartment smells like home.
peach is passed between the three of you like a hot potato—he fusses with sae, instantly calms with your mom, and only wants boob when he's with you.
typical.
that night you're on the couch, head on sae's thigh, your mom already asleep in the guest room because jet lag hit her like a truck. peach is finally down in the bassinet after a two hour screaming concert. the apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the baby monitor.
about a week in, you wake up at 3 am to pee and find sae’s side of the bed empty. you shuffle down the hall and stop in the doorway of the nursery.
he’s sitting in the rocking chair, peach asleep on his bare chest, one big hand splayed across the baby’s entire back. the only light is the soft glow from the nightlight shaped like a soccer ball (of course).
sae’s staring down at him, expression softer than you’ve ever seen it.
“thought you said skin to skin was for moms,” you whisper from the doorway.
he doesn’t startle. “he wouldn’t settle. worked.”
you pad over, lean against the chair. “you okay?”
he’s quiet for a long time. then: “hm. he’s really small.”
your heart warms with a low chuckle. you rest your hand on his shoulder. “i know, just like a kitten or something.”
peach makes a tiny snuffling sound and sae instinctively pats his back, soothing. the movement never falters.
you lean down and kiss the top of sae’s messy red hair. “go back to bed in a bit, okay? you have training tomorrow.”
dating a man ten years older than you came with its perks.
toji was experienced, mature, and could handle his business—whether that meant taking care of you, fixing whatever broke around the apartment, or handling himself in a fight (which let’s be real, he got into way too often for someone who claimed he just wanted to be left alone).
but let’s talk about the downsides.
the man acted like a damn grandpa.
he didn’t like staying up late, didn’t like going out, and especially didn’t like that you still liked doing those things. he hated technology, barely touched his phone unless he had to, and carried the most nonchalant, unbothered attitude you’d ever seen in your life. like nothing in the world could phase him except, apparently, the idea of you being out past a certain hour.
so when you told him you were going out tonight, his reaction was about as predictable as the sun rising.
“again?” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face like you’d just announced you were joining a cult.
you looked at him from the vanity, carefully applying your lip gloss. “yes, again.”
he exhaled and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. “why?”
you turned around, giving him a look. “what do you mean why?”
“i mean why you always gotta be out so late?” he frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “you know what time it is?”
“yes, grandpa,” you said, snatching your purse off the chair. “i know what time it is.”
he gave you that look—the one that said he was one more smart comment away from locking the door and calling it a night for both of you.
you ignored it, checking your phone instead. “i’m young and turnt. this is literally my time to be outside.”
he clicked his tongue. “y’all young people do too much.”
you sighed dramatically, walking over and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. “heyyy,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “don’t be mad.”
“ain’t mad,” he muttered, but his arm still slid around your waist like it had a mind of its own.
“you just don’t like me going out,” you teased, playing with the collar of his shirt. “you scared somebody else is gonna snatch me up?”
he scoffed. “please.”
“then what’s the issue?”
“issue is, it’s late,” he grumbled. “city’s full of weirdos. and you don’t even have your pepper spray on you.”
“first of all,” you smirked, “i do.”
he narrowed his eyes. “show me.”
you dug it out of your purse and waved it in front of his face.
he hummed, mildly impressed. “alright. second of all, what?”
you gave him a confused look.
“you just said first of all,” he said, eyes slightly narrowed. “what’s the second point?”
you laughed and shoved him lightly. “i don’t have one. i just wanted to sound serious.”
he sighed again, rubbing his temples. “goodness.”
you grinned and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “i’ll be fine, okay? promise.”
he wasn’t convinced—not even a little but he also knew he wasn’t winning this argument. so instead, he leaned back on the bed, giving you that lazy, half lidded smirk of his.
“you call that an outfit?”
you gasped, looking down at yourself. “excuse me?”
“got a whole damn closet,” he muttered, grabbing his phone like he needed a distraction, “and that’s what you pick?”
you huffed. “first of all, this is cute.” you posed a little for emphasis. “second of all, why you paying so much attention?”
“cause i know how these men think,” he grumbled. “see you looking fine, they start acting stupid.”
you smirked. “so you do think i look fine?”
he gave you an unimpressed look that somehow still managed to make your stomach flip.
you laughed, grabbing his face in both hands. “toji, i promise i will be fine. i’m literally just going out to drink and dance.”
“that’s what they all say,” he muttered, but he still let you press another kiss to his lips.
you pulled away smiling. “you want me to bring you something back?”
“yeah,” he yawned, already stretching out across the bed. “peace and quiet.”
you rolled your eyes and walked toward the door. “you’re so dramatic.”
he just waved you off, already getting comfortable under the covers.
but by the time you got home, slipping through the door at 3 am, guess who was waiting?
“…you up?” you whispered, tiptoeing inside like that would somehow make the late hour less obvious.
toji sat on the couch, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in the dark living room.
“…yeah.”
you blinked. “you stayed up this whole time?”
“obviously.”
“…why?”
he gave you a dry look that said everything he wasn’t about to say out loud.
you grinned, walking over and climbing straight onto his lap without asking. he sighed, but his hand still found its way down your back, rubbing slow circles like he’d been waiting for the contact.
“i hate you,” he muttered.
“no, you don’t.” you nuzzled into his neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “you love me.”
he grumbled something under his breath but didn’t deny it.
“you tired?” you whispered.
“yeah,” he muttered. “let’s go to bed.”
you hummed, closing your eyes against his shoulder. “carry me?”
“hell no.”
you giggled, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders anyway.
dating a man ten years older than you came with its downsides.
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Okay so imagine next for Giyuu's Stray story, what if Sanemi is scowling *pouting* about his experience with the two when he runs into the other Hashira who obviously want an update. So he tells him that Giyuu smiles all the damn time, but half don't believe him while the rest just want to cause a bit of mischief [totally not Shinobu *wink*] so they start to follow him.
i literally had so much fun writing this one LMFAOOOO
ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ pt 8
pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7,
sanemi storms down the path away from the udon stall, still muttering under his breath.
“third wheel. holding hands. ‘meals bring people closer.’ absolute bullshit.”
he kicks a rock so hard it skips into the bushes. his scars feel tighter than usual, like the whole lunch is still stuck under his skin. every time he blinked, he could still picture the two of you casually sitting across from him like nothing was strange about the entire situation.
giyuu tomioka—of all people had somehow sat through an entire meal with his hand linked to yours beneath the table without so much as looking embarrassed. sanemi hated that image was probably going to haunt him for the rest of the week.
“stupid water idiot...” he mutters. “stupid hand holding...”
he doesn’t get far before a familiar group of voices stops him.
“shinazugawa!” rengoku’s booming laugh carries across the courtyard. “perfect timing! we were just talking about you.”
mitsuri waves both hands, eyes sparkling. “sanemi-san! did you really go to lunch with tomioka-san earlier? i heard you left looking so grumpy!”
obanai stands a little behind her, arms crossed, snake draped over his shoulders. “kanroji wanted details. i told her it was a waste of time.”
shinobu tilts her head, smile soft but sharp. “oh? and yet you’re scowling harder than usual. something interesting must have happened.”
tengen leans against a post, arms folded. “spill it, wind hashira. we know you never eat with tomioka unless someone’s forcing you.”
sanemi stops dead. his eye twitches, he looks at every single one of them.
rengoku looks genuinely curious.
mitsuri already looks excited before hearing a single word.
obanai looks annoyed on principle.
shinobu looks like she's here for shits and giggles.
tengen looks like someone just promised him front row seats to a disaster.
sanemi immediately regrets stopping. “you want details?” he growls. “fine. that quiet bastard invited me to lunch. with the person who’s always trailing after him. they sat there holding hands under the table like some couple. the whole time. and tomioka just… let it happen. didn’t even look annoyed.”
mitsuri gasps, hands flying to her cheeks. “holding hands?! oh my gosh that’s so cute!”
rengoku’s eyes widen. “tomioka? the same tomioka who barely speaks two words at meetings?”
“yes,” sanemi snaps. “and when i called him out, he just said ‘it’s just lunch’ like it was the most normal thing in the world. the other one kept joking around and he actually answered. even smiled a little. smiled.”
obanai’s snake flicks its tongue. “impossible. tomioka doesn’t smile.”
shinobu covers her mouth with a sleeve, eyes glittering. “how fascinating. are you certain you weren’t imagining things after a long training session?”
tengen laughs. “sounds like someone’s finally cracked the water hashira. i need to see this with my own eyes.”
sanemi throws his hands up. “i’m not lying! she kept talking about dogs and promises and bonding over food, and tomioka just nodded along like it all made sense. it was weird as hell.”
tengen bursts out laughing so loudly that two kakushi walking across the courtyard glance over in confusion.
half the group still looks doubtful. rengoku strokes his chin, “perhaps we should observe for ourselves. a true warrior seeks the truth!”
mitsuri bounces on her toes. “yes! let’s follow them! just a little peek!”
“this is a terrible idea,” obanai mutters, but he doesn’t walk away.
shinobu’s smile widens. “i agree. pure curiosity, of course.”
tengen already starts walking. “lead the way, shinazugawa. show us this impossible soft side of tomioka.”
sanemi grits his teeth. “fine. but if you’re all wrong, you’re buying me dinner for a week.”
nobody actually argues, they simply start moving.
sanemi notices, "...why is nobody disagreeing?"
"because," tengen says, "we're absolutely following them."
he turns on his heel and stomps toward the path you and giyuu took after lunch. the others fall in behind him, trying (and failing) to look casual.
trying was the important word.
rengoku walked with perfect posture, somehow making himself look even more noticeable than usual.
mitsuri kept accidentally waving at random people who greeted her, immediately remembering she was supposed to be sneaking before ducking behind sanemi.
tengen insisted hiding was unnecessary because, in his words, "true stealth is being so confident people assume you belong there."
obanai immediately called that the stupidest thing he'd heard all week.
shinobu quietly agreed.
tengen looked offended.
“you all lack flair.”
“we're trying not to be seen,” obanai deadpans.
“exactly.”
“...that doesn't answer anything.”
you and giyuu are still walking slowly, hands linked, talking about nothing important. the late afternoon sun filters through the trees, and giyuu’s quiet presence feels steady beside you.
“i still can’t believe sanemi sat through that whole meal,” you say, swinging your joined hands a little. “he looked like he wanted to set the table on fire.”
giyuu’s voice is calm. “he always looks like that.”
you laugh. “true. but at least the food was good. next time we should try that sweet potato place. you like those, right?”
he nods once. “yes.”
behind a cluster of trees, the hashira crouch in the underbrush, watching. the bush they're hiding behind is nowhere near large enough.
sanemi's white hair sticks out the top, rengoku's haori is hanging out the side, mitsuri accidentally steps on a twig loud enough to make three birds fly away and obanai pinches the bridge of his nose.
"we're unbelievable," he mutters.
"we haven't been caught," tengen whispers confidently.
at that exact moment, shinobu quietly reaches over and pushes the end of his sleeve back into the bush because half of it had been visible the entire time.
"...thank you," he whispers.
"you're welcome."
mitsuri whispers, “they’re still holding hands! look!”
rengoku’s jaw drops. “incredible! tomioka’s posture is almost relaxed!”
obanai narrows his eyes. “this has to be some kind of act.”
shinobu hums. “no. look at his face. he’s listening.”
tengen grins. “the great silent water hashira, domesticated by one persistent human. i love it.”
sanemi hisses, “shut up before they hear you.”
you glance over your shoulder for a second, sensing something...
the feeling isn't strong enough to make you stop walking, but it lingers just enough to make you squint toward the trees lining the path. everything looks normal at first glance, except for a bush that seems to be... shaking a little more than the breeze should allow.
“you okay?” you ask.
“fine,” he answers. his fingers tighten just a little around yours. “someone’s watching.”
you blink before looking back toward the trees again, this time with a little more suspicion. for a brief second, you could've sworn you saw something white disappear behind a trunk, but by the time you looked properly, there was nothing there besides rustling leaves. it makes you wonder if you're imagining things after such a long day.
“probably just birds. or maybe sanemi’s still mad and following us to complain more.”
giyuu doesn't deny it. his gaze lingers toward the woods for another heartbeat before returning to the path ahead, his expression remaining as unreadable as ever. instead of letting go, his hand shifts slightly until your fingers fit more comfortably between his, almost absentmindedly adjusting his grip without interrupting the conversation.
mitsuri whispers back, "then why isn't he saying anything?"
shinobu smiles knowingly. "because he's choosing to ignore us."
tengen lets out an impressed whistle under his breath. "that's confidence. if i knew six people were following me through the village, i'd at least make them work for it."
sanemi pinches the bridge of his nose, "i told you idiots to stay quieter."
"we are being quiet," tengen argues.
at that exact moment, rengoku's foot slips against a loose rock.
crack.
every head immediately snaps toward him.
"..."
rengoku smiles sheepishly.
"my apologies."
sanemi looks like he has aged ten years.
from up ahead, you pause for half a second. "...did you hear that?"
giyuu nods once, "yes."
"..."
"...should we check?"
he thinks about it.
"...no."
behind the trees, six hashira silently celebrate the fact that the investigation is somehow still alive.
"i think he just doesn't care," shinobu says with a small laugh. "which somehow makes this even funnier."
giyuu keeps walking, quiet and steady, like the whole world could be staring and it wouldn’t change a thing.
from the bushes, mitsuri nearly squeals. she quickly slaps both hands over her own mouth before any sound escapes, her shoulders bouncing from the effort of containing herself.
obanai has to reach over and gently push her farther behind the shrub because the top half of her head had slowly risen into plain sight while she watched the two of you.
“he noticed us and didn’t even care! that’s so romantic!”
sanemi drags a hand down his face. His patience, already worn thin after lunch, somehow continues to deteriorate with every passing minute spent hiding in shrubbery instead of doing literally anything productive. he's beginning to question every decision that led him to mentioning lunch in the first place.
“i told you. this is the new normal. and i hate every second of it.”
the other hashira keep staring, half in disbelief, half in growing fascination. every tiny interaction somehow becomes another piece of evidence supporting sanemi's unbelievable story, and the more they watch, the less anyone can argue with him. even obanai, despite crossing his arms tighter every few minutes, can't deny that giyuu seems... comfortable.
you swing your hand again, smiling up at giyuu. “come on. race you to the next bend?”
he looks at you for a long second, considering the request with the same serious expression he gives almost everything. the silence stretches just enough that you begin wondering if he's actually weighing the pros and cons of a friendly race. then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his sleeve brushes yours as he shifts closer.
he gives the smallest nod.
you both break into a light jog, still holding hands, laughter trailing behind you.
"...GO!"
mitsuri panics first.
"they're getting away!"
"they're jogging!" Tengen exclaims.
"they're holding hands while jogging!"
"they're moving!" sanemi barks. "quit admiring it and move!"
what follows can only barely be described as stealth.
rengoku immediately sprints after you with enough enthusiasm to shake leaves off nearby branches before shinobu yanks him behind a wall by his haori. tengen vaults cleanly over a fence because, according to him, "it's the flashiest route," only to realize everyone else simply walked around it five seconds later.
mitsuri nearly trips over a tree root while trying to crouch run, forcing Obanai to catch her arm before she accidentally rolled straight into the path.
"...we're the worst spies ever," obanai mutters.
"i disagree," tengen says proudly.
"you would."
"i've only been seen... probably twice."
"you've been seen every time."
"i choose not to believe that.”
sanemi seriously considers abandoning them all.
instead, he marches ahead, muttering to himself while the rest scramble after him, somehow creating more noise than an entire squad of kakushi. somewhere overhead, a crow lets out an irritated caw before flying away, seemingly unwilling to be associated with whatever this operation has become.
sanemi has reached a point in his life where he is no longer surprised by anything. he isn't happy about it, and he isn't proud of it. but somewhere between watching giyuu tomioka willingly attend lunch with another person, hold hands through the entire meal, and now quietly jog down a forest path while still refusing to let go, sanemi has accepted that reality has simply stopped making sense.
behind him, reality somehow gets even worse.
"wait!" mitsuri hisses. "they turned!"
"obviously they turned," obanai whispers back. "the path curves."
"don't say it like i should've known!"
"you should've known."
tengen points dramatically toward the bend. "formation!"
"...what formation?" shinobu asks.
"the flashy one."
"...there isn't a flashy formation."
"there is if you believe enough."
obanai slowly closes his eyes. "i'm beginning to understand why shinazugawa is always angry."
sanemi doesn't even bother turning around. "keep talking," he mutters. "i'm sure that'll make us quieter."
it in fact does not make them quieter. if anything, the argument somehow grows into a discussion about whether proper surveillance requires positions, whether flashy positioning counts as strategy, and whether rengoku's naturally loud footsteps are something he can consciously control.
"i'm trying," rengoku whispers.
his whisper somehow carries farther than most people's normal voices.
"there!" mitsuri suddenly points.
everyone immediately ducks. unfortunately, nobody ducks in the same direction.
tengen bumps into rengoku. rengoku catches himself on obanai, obanai stumbles sideways, and kaburamaru hisses in annoyance as he slides from obanai's shoulders to avoid the collision. shinobu calmly steps aside just in time for sanemi to narrowly avoid getting knocked over by the disaster unfolding behind him.
sanemi exhales through his nose. "if demons saw this," he says quietly, "they'd surrender because they’d feel bad for us."
meanwhile, completely unaware of the nightmare several metres behind, you slow your pace until the jog naturally fades back into an easy walk.
"i win," you announce proudly, despite the fact that the race lasted approximately six seconds.
giyuu looks over. "...we started together."
"yes."
"...and finished together."
"yes."
"..."
"..."
"...so i win."
he thinks about it. "...okay."
your grin widens immediately. "that was easier than expected."
he doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at your joined hands before looking back ahead.
"...you seemed happy."
"i was."
"...then you can win."
behind the trees, six grown adults collectively stop moving.
mitsuri's eyes immediately begin watering. "...did... did tomioka just..."
she presses both hands against her face. "...that was the sweetest thing i've ever heard."
rengoku smiles so brightly it almost seems to illuminate the bushes. "magnificent!"
obanai stares at giyuu as though trying to solve a math equation that keeps changing numbers. "...he voluntarily surrendered."
shinobu lets out the smallest laugh. "how refreshing."
sanemi looks physically ill. "...i'm going home."
nobody listens. instead, every single pair of eyes remains fixed on the two of you.
you continue chatting about nothing particularly important, from which snack stand had the best dango, to whether one of the village cats secretly had two different owners, to why crows somehow always looked judgmental.
giyuu contributes only a sentence here and there, but every single response comes naturally, without hesitation, and somehow the conversation never feels one sided. he listens, he responds, and he even asks you one quiet question about whether you'd wanted to visit the market before heading home.
the silence behind the bushes becomes almost eerie.
"...he asked them a question," obanai finally says.
"without being asked first," shinobu adds.
tengen places a hand over his heart. "i'm witnessing history."
sanemi folds his arms tighter. "you're all acting like he grew a second head."
"this is arguably stranger," obanai replies.
"...fair."
before anyone can say another word, kaburamaru suddenly lifts his head. the white snake flicks his tongue once, then twice, and with absolutely no warning whatsoever, he slithers down obanai's arm, across the grass, and disappears through the bushes.
obanai freezes. "...kaburamaru?"
the snake ignores him completely.
everyone watches in horrified silence as kaburamaru calmly glides across the path directly toward you and giyuu.
you stop walking and crouch immediately"...oh! hi there."
kaburamaru coils neatly near your feet, perfectly content. "you're so cute."
you carefully hold out your hand, letting him investigate before gently scratching beneath his chin. the little snake visibly relaxes, happily accepting the attention like he'd known you for years.
you smile before gently stroking along kaburamaru's back. "you're a very handsome little guy."
from the bushes comes the quiet, horrified sound of obanai inhaling.
"...she called kaburamaru handsome."
mitsuri beams. "well, he is handsome."
he pauses before sighing. "...that's not the point."
before he can step forward to retrieve his snake, kaburamaru simply decides the visit is over. he slithers away from your hands, crosses the path again, and returns directly to obanai's shoulders like nothing unusual happened.
"...traitor," obanai mutters under his breath.
kaburamaru blinks innocently. shinobu has to turn away for a moment because she's laughing too hard. tengen is biting the inside of his cheek, rengoku is smiling so broadly his cheeks probably hurt, and mitsuri looks ready to cry over how adorable the interaction was.
sanemi has completely given up. "...can we leave now?"
"one more minute," tengen whispers.
"you said that ten minutes ago."
"this one is different."
"...how?"
"...i haven’t found out yet."
sanemi sighs so deeply it almost echoes. at that exact moment, giyuu slowly turns his head. not toward the path, not toward the village, but directly toward the bush. his blue eyes settle on the collection of hashira hidden behind approximately three leaves and one very overworked shrub.
he sighs. "...you can come out now."
nobody moves.
"...i've known since lunch."
still nobody moves.
"...sanemi's hair has been visible the entire time. and rengoku's haori."
sanemi's eye twitches.
“….uzui jumped over a fence.”
tengen quietly clears his throat after the next observation. "...it was a shortcut."
"it wasn't."
"i believed it would be."
"kanroji waved at me twice."
mitsuri immediately hides behind obanai despite already being caught. "...sorry."
"kaburamaru visited."
obanai looks down at his snake. "...you're on punishment."
kaburamaru remains completely unapologetic.
for several long seconds, absolute silence hangs over the path before shinobu calmly steps out from behind the bush, dusting a leaf from her sleeve as though she'd simply been enjoying a leisurely walk.
"well," she says pleasantly, "there doesn't seem much point in pretending anymore."
one by one, everyone else awkwardly emerges from hiding. rengoku smiles proudly, mitsuri can't even meet your eyes because she's too embarrassed, obanai looks like he'd rather vanish into the earth, tengen somehow still carries himself as though this entire operation had been a flawless success, and sanemi refuses to look at anyone.
you stare at the six hashira standing together on the path. "...were... were you all following us?"
"yes!" rengoku answers immediately.
"no!" sanemi snaps at the exact same time.
everyone looks at sanemi.
he pinches the bridge of his nose before finally giving in. "...fine. yes."
you blink once before looking at giyuu. "...did you really know the whole time?"
he nods. "yes."
"...why didn't you tell me?"
he thinks for a moment. "...they seemed committed."
there's a beat of complete silence before you burst into laughter. it's uncontrollable laughter that doubles you over until you have to wipe at your eyes.
mitsuri starts laughing because you're laughing. shinobu joins in next, even rengoku lets out one of his booming laughs, tengen proudly declares the mission "an overwhelming success," obanai quietly accepts that this somehow became the strangest afternoon of his month, and after several long seconds of stubborn resistance, even sanemi lets out one short, defeated scoff.
"...this is never happening again."
giyuu glances toward him with the same calm expression he'd worn all afternoon. "...next week?"
sanemi immediately points an accusing finger at him. "...don't push your luck."
you laugh even harder, your fingers naturally finding giyuu's again as the group slowly begins walking back toward the estate together. for once, nobody questioned the hand holding.
they'd all spent the afternoon trying to prove sanemi wrong.
instead, they'd simply discovered that somehow, against all logic and expectation, the quietest hashira among them had found someone who made him feel warm and everyone else had been loud enough to witness it.
