#and it will be VERY slowburn (to my standards) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-jordie-things · 10 months ago

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let the light in - ryomen sukuna

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 15.5k warnings: mentions of fighting and injuries, reader has a cursed technique but i don't describe it bc i'm lazy, she's actually pretty weak in this ngl i needed her to be a bit of a damsel in distress. sukuna is pretty out of character but he has to be. also sukuna can take control of yuji's body when he's asleep bc i decided so ok it's my first time writing for him so bare with me. summary: reincarnation!au with a twist. in every life sukuna finds you in, he has to remind you of who you once were- and who you once were to each other. it's a burden, but it's one he's carried for centuries and he wouldn't have it any other way. more info: slowburn enemies to ?? to lovers, sukuna is hopelessly in love with reader its very fun ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ ooh let the light in // at your back door yelling cause i wanna come in // ooh turn your light on // look at us, you and i back at it again ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Finding her in this life was the first thing on his mind as soon as his consciousness was manifested. Just like every era before this one, she’s always his first thought.

The second thought was- what the fuck?

In all of his centuries walking this earth, he’d never been quite out of body like this. As in, in a completely different body from his own. And much to his displeasure, he’d manifested inside of some brat jujutsu sorcerer that was a bit too strong for his own good. No worries, though, after they tracked down a few more of his cursed fingers he’d be able to take proper control and Itadori Yuji would cease to exist as soon as Sukuna regained his full strength.

So for some time, he played nice. Or, as nice as he could, that was. He sat back in his domain and waited. He’d never been one with a strong sense of patience- he may have been a man once but he was a curse now- but if it meant strengthening his chances in being reunited with her sooner, then he would play the long game. Besides, he could have some fun torturing the brat and his friends for a little while, right? No harm in some chaos and carnage along the way. He would need good stories to tell her when they were together again, anyways.

There were times where the brat began to wonder what it was Sukuna was doing there, quietly tucked into his domain. On the rare occasion that he didn’t rear his head into conversation with a nasty comment coming from a mouth materialized on his cheek or the back of his hand. Times passed where Yuji would cringe awaiting Sukuna’s inevitable filth, but instead he was gifted with silence from the curse inhabiting him. The young sorcerer could only assume that this meant he was doing something else- but what? What could he possibly occupy himself with while trapped in his own domain? Some days Yuji worried he was plotting something, but others he wondered if the King of Curses was just lost in thought. Did he daydream?

Sukuna wouldn’t call it that, but if anyone were able to catch him in the act, they’d know it was exactly that. All he could do with his time is imagine how he’d reunite with her in this life. It was one of his favorite parts of each new century or so, and after hundreds of lifetimes, there were plenty of memories to keep himself occupied with.

This time he knew he’d have to outdo himself, seeing as he was in an unfamiliar body, and he could only hope that she liked this one as much as the last. Perhaps the next time he took control of it he’d make sure everything was up to standard- he couldn’t have her rejecting him just because he was in some brat’s body this time. On the other hand, he knew her to be more playful and experimental than he was, so maybe she’d find a change in host exciting.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his delight, Sukuna is reunited with the great love of his life sooner than expected. To his great displeasure, it’s at exactly the wrong time.

He’d been irritated enough having his brat vessel tap out just because he couldn’t take on a measly little Special Grade. Of course, he wasn’t about to appease some righteous jujutsu sorcerer’s agenda by exorcizing the curse himself. But in the end, the curse disappointed him too, thinking that it could pick a fight with the King of Curses and come out of it alive.

Pride outweighed vengeance, and he found himself entertained with playing with the Special Grade. Playing, because of course it’s abilities were weak compared to real jujutsu, unlike the childish display the brat had put up first.

He’s so drawn in by his play fight with the curse that he’d completely missed her- that is until he’s using his Domain Expansion, and from the corner of one of his eyes he finally notices.

While it’s a shock that he’s managed to let the great love of his life go unnoticed, she isn’t exactly… conscious.

The special grade is sliced diced and forgotten, barely even a blip in Sukuna’s memory now once he recognizes the slumped over body on a pile of rubble a few hundred feet away. He’s delighted, ecstatic even. The bloodthirsty grin on his face is replaced by a beam of pure thrill. He’d previously thought it might take years to find her in this life, so to stumble across her now, after getting control of this body over a mere pest, was a real treat.

He approaches her limp body so quickly he’s practically teleported to her, and his beam begins to falter as he takes in her current state.

It’s not a matter of worry that she’s fairly beat up and knocked unconscious so hard there’s soft snores between heavy breaths, her mortal body working overtime to keep her alive at all- it was nothing a quick use of his Reverse Cursed Technique couldn’t fix.

The wince of disgust that contorts his features is directed solely at her attire.

Crisp black button up torn open to reveal the same shade of undershirt snugly fitting her underneath, paired with pants of the same material. He didn’t need to see the crest at the collar of her shirt to give him further context as to what she was up to in this century.

“Of course,” He utters through his snarl as he crouches down towards her, hands glowing as he promptly heals her wounds. She doesn’t awaken, her body growing even more exhausted after being put through the technique, but her muscles do appear to relax as she slumps further into the dirty ground. “You would be a sorcerer in this lifetime. Idiot,”

The cruel name falls from his lips with nothing but melted affection. No other person on this earth would be allowed to hear him speak this way and live to tell the tale. It was reserved only for her- and she wasn’t even awake to hear it now.

With steady hands Sukuna gathers her in his arms, trying to bend her into a more comfortable position. She doesn’t wince or complain when bruised limbs drag across broken slabs of concrete. If he wasn’t able to hear the steady beat of her heart, she would have easily been mistaken for dead already.

“A shitty reunion this time around, I’m afraid,”

Sukuna sighs before he sits fully on the ground. He’s not sure how much longer he’d be in control of this body, but any thoughts of fleeing to bring as much destruction to Tokyo is far from his mind. He wants nothing more than to sit here with his lover and hope that she’d wake back up before he’s dragged back into his domain.

With one arm wrapped under her shoulders to keep her limp body closely tucked to him, his free hand brushes the messy strands of hair away from her resting face. She looks peaceful, even though when she wakes she’d still carry the aches of her healed injuries. The tips of his fingers linger over her soft cheek as he admires her.

“Just as beautiful in this life as you were in every one before it, my love,” He murmurs, so quiet that even if she were conscious enough to hear it, she probably wouldn’t have.

He only gets a few moments of peace with her before he can feel a stir from inside of him, and he can faintly make out Yuji gaining his consciousness back. He snarls in his aggravation, wishing he could knock the brat out so he could get just a little more time with his long lost love, even if she wasn’t her usual lively self.

“Come, we have things to do” He tells her, before he pulls her closer and lifts her up.

He makes his way out of the destroyed building with leisure, knowing that the other sorcerer, Fushiguro, would be waiting outside for a fight. It wasn’t in his plans to end the kid’s life just yet, but with the reunion of his one true love coming prematurely, things might have to change. Oh well, he was flexible.

She fusses in his arms upon the lift, but even with her pinching brows and twitching eyelids, she never quite wakes up. Which was alright, they would have plenty of time to properly catch up in a bit. Sukuna had other things to handle first.

It would be some time still before she properly met the King of Curses face to face- in this life anyways- as shortly after his departure of the ruined building, he would have to set her aside to take care of a few of the weaker level shikigamis that the Fushiguro kid sent his way. After ripping the brat’s heart out of their shared chest, it would be a few weeks before things seemingly transitioned back to normal.

When (y/n) would finally come to in the infirmary a few hours after it all went down, Megumi would relay how the King of Curses had carried her out in his arms. She’d give him a bitter laugh, thinking he was trying to lighten the mood after the news of the death of their friend. But Megumi wasn’t usually very good at telling jokes, and after seeing his grave expression stay put, her face would fall.

“You’re serious?”

Megumi nods, the thin line of his lips unwavering.

(y/n) blinks a few times as she processes it slowly. She’s still not sure that she believes him, but she doesn’t have a reason not to either. If Gojo had told her this she’d have rolled her eyes, and maybe called him insensitive and unserious, but why would Megumi make something like that up?

“I don’t understand,” She tells him with a furrowed brow, and the way Megumi shrugs one shoulder unenthusiastically tells her he didn’t understand it any better than she did. “You’re telling me he saved me?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Megumi replies dryly. He should’ve known she’d ask him questions he clearly didn’t have the answers for, so he tried to provide her with what he did know so that maybe she wouldn’t torment him with more of her own questions. “But he brought you out, and set you down somewhere with your head propped up, and he didn’t try to attack you at all. At least, it looked like he didn’t”

Her tongue darts over the dryness of her bottom lip as her jaw hangs open at him. She doesn’t bother him with more useless questions, but that doesn’t mean the whole ordeal wasn’t plaguing her mind.

Something was very strange about that behavior. But with Yuji gone, she figured it was no use trying to decipher it all anyways. Maybe after some time when her grief wears off into something she could live with, she could forget about it completely.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With Yuji turning out to be alive and well, Sukuna’s plans shifted once more. He’d tortured him as best he could without the ability of taking control of the body, letting his friend be turned into a transfigured human, refusing to kill the spirit that called itself Mahito- as upsetting as it was to his brat vessel, Sukuna cared very little for such trivial events. In fact, if Yuji were to shut up about it, he probably could have forgotten completely. He only had one goal on his mind- to return to her again. Anything else was merely a stepping stone along the way.

Just as before, Sukuna spends most of his time in his domain without much noise. Except this time, Yuji starts to get an inkling of what he’s doing.

“It’s unbecoming and submissive of you to pretend to be dead,”

Sukuna taunts one day while Yuji’s working on his ‘training’ on Gojo’s couch while he invests himself with a romantic movie. His sudden appearance was a good test to his abilities, though, as the sleeping cursed puppet on Yuji’s lap doesn’t stir. It was safe to say that Yuji had gotten as used to sharing his body with the curse as he was going to get.

“What if your little sorcerer friends need you?” Sukuna chuckles. He quite enjoys the image of Fushiguro and the little red-headed girl struggling to keep up with mere Second Grade curses.

“They’re fine” Yuji replies casually, barely paying attention to the mouth on his face that wasn’t his. The movie was just getting good, after all.

“You think they can manage to hold their own?” Sukuna scoffs at the thought. “With half-assed cursed techniques like theirs?”

“Fushiguro and Kugisaki are the most cutthroat people I’ve ever known. Didn’t Fushiguro almost kick your ass?” Yuji mutters, more irritated than offended by Sukuna’s cruelty. “You’re just lucky you haven’t had to deal with (y/l/n)”

So is that what she was calling herself this time? Sukuna’s lips tilt into a smirk.

“She doesn’t seem like much to be afraid of,” The words themselves are harsh, but something in his tone changes. Enough that Yuji starts to lose focus on the television. “Last I saw her she was half dead. If it weren’t for me, she would have been dead-dead”

That finally catches Yuji’s full attention, and he misses the next few lines of the movie when he asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sukuna’s silent, thoughtfully so, as he tries to find just the right way to play his cards. Does he use his history with the brat’s friend as a scare tactic? Or does he keep that little fact to himself for a while longer? Either way, the longer he’s silent, the more Yuji begins to go stir crazy.

“Hey, you old curse!” He hollers suddenly, causing the cursed puppet in his lap to wake up and start to get aggressive. Yuji heaves as the tiny thing rears a heavy punch into his gut, but it doesn’t stop him from interrogating the curse inside of him. “What did you mean by that!?” He huffs out.

Sukuna chuckles, and just as quickly as he’d appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, he disappeared again, hiding away in his domain and entertaining himself with the sight of Yuji getting beat up by a little cursed teddy bear.

Perhaps he’d let the brat overthink for a little while longer, anxiety was a form of suffering after all, wasn’t it? At least watching the brat worry himself sick about it would provide him some amusement for the coming days. Until the sanction of his fake death is lifted, and he could go back to his goal of being reunited with his love.

(y/l/n). Her new surname rings in his head as he settles in his domain and lets his mind begin to wander again. As pretty as it was, he’d have to return it to the proper name. His name.

Yuji is attacked by Yaga’s cursed puppet a few more times that evening, but not due to the film changing his range of emotions. In fact, it was due to his complete lack of focus on the movie. All he could think about was what business Sukuna could possibly have with (y/n).

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When he makes his surprise reappearance for his friends, Yuji debates on pulling (y/n) aside and asking her about what Sukuna had mentioned. But for all he knew, he very well could have been toying with him, and ultimately he decided to enjoy what little time he had to catch up with his friends before they dove into the Exchange Event. It just didn’t seem worth bringing up at this time.

But for some reason, when she takes her seat as the Tokyo students begin their planning, Yuji’s compelled to sit beside her. It’s not an odd choice, it’s not out of character for him, she is his friend after all, but he’s quite aware of the way his feet move on their own accord to carry him to the empty seat beside her. Yuji knows his body, and he knows he wasn’t the one commanding it to do that.

It makes him gulp when he unceremoniously plops into the seat. (y/n) gives him a look, something crossed between confusion and amusement, but she brushes it off and doesn’t say a word as she shifts her focus back to Maki. Yuji tries to ignore it as well, a bit embarrassed about the whole display. Was that really Sukuna? He tried to clear his mind, too, it was quite important that he took in everything Maki was saying, but his mind is wrapped up in whatever game the King of Curses was playing right now.

And finally, when he thinks he’s heard enough of the game plan for the event, he feels it.

The slit under his right eye opens, the side facing (y/n). Yuji holds his breath, hoping that Sukuna doesn’t open his loud mouth and bark out something insulting, but he doesn’t. His mouth never materializes. He simply stares.

It’s almost worse.

A few minutes pass and no one seems to notice, as the attention of the room is still commanded by Maki. Except for Yuji himself, as he’d stopped listening to her altogether while he anxiously awaited whatever was to come next. What was he doing? He began to bounce his leg.

His throat closes up when he sees (y/n) turn her head out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t meet her gaze, even though she’s clearly staring at him- or Sukuna, he supposes- but she doesn’t speak up. She’s just as silent as the curse he’s hosting. Still, her gaze remains on the dark eye peeking out at her. If they weren’t in a room with all of their peers, Yuji would’ve broken his ignorant demeanor by now, but something inside him tells him to keep his mouth shut.

When the group disbanded for a quick lunch before the event officially started, (y/n) remained seated while the others filtered out, and when Yuji began to stand, she stopped him. All she’s done is reach a hand out, she barely even touches his arm, but it’s enough for him to stop in his tracks, and he stays put in his seat.

They don’t say anything until the room is empty, and even then, (y/n) chooses to speak quietly, almost under her breath.

“What the hell is going on with…” She pauses, her eyes flickering between Yuji’s and the ones below, before she raises her hand in a small gesture. “Him?” She mumbles it so low, afraid that saying his name would be enough to summon him, even though he’s so clearly already there before her.

“I don’t-”

Yuji starts, but before he could say anything- or think of anything to say- Sukuna’s mouth is materializing on his cheek. It’s an unsettling feeling on its own, but Yuji always felt a certain chill on his spine whenever he’d feel that mouth forming a smile.

“Just missed lookin’ at you, sweetheart”

Yuji’s face is sickly pale in a matter of seconds, the fear that settles over him tenses up all of his muscles, to the point they ache, and as much as he wants to remove himself (and Sukuna) from this situation, he’s frozen in place. Too stunned to say anything, too stunned to move, he just stands there helplessly as (y/n’s) wide eyes dart between both pairs on his face.

(y/n’s) reaction comes first, the shocked expression wearing off into something else. Yuji can’t place what it is- anger, disgust- but she loses the desire to keep the conversation quiet as reality settles over her.

“What!?” It comes out in a screech, but it’s just as quickly followed by absolute rambling. “What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is he talking about?” She awkwardly shifts her gaze between both sets of eyes, unsure and unfamiliar with how to communicate with the both of them.

“I- I don’t-”

Again, Yuji’s interrupted before he can come up with anything.

“We still have all the time in the world, for now you just keep your pretty little head focused on this game of yours, hm?”

Just like that, the fanged mouth is disappearing and Yuji’s cheek is returned to it’s normal state again.

(y/n) blinks, going silent again while her face is flushing with color. Now her eyes seem to focus on the lower, darker pair of eyes. It’s hard to gauge what Sukuna is thinking, or feeling. With only a narrowed set of eyes to go off of, not to mention he’s a reckless curse, he’s not a man, she doesn’t know what to make of the interaction.

But with the memory of what Megumi had told her, a dread begins to weigh down her chest. Whatever this behavior was about, it couldn’t mean anything could. It was unwanted attention, that was for sure. No matter how warm her face felt, or how nervous she suddenly was just being around Yuji.

Soon enough the eyes shut too, but even though it appears it’s only her and Yuji in the room, she can still feel Sukuna’s presence. She swallows the lump in her throat like it’s lead.

“Let’s just…” Her eyes flit away from the closed lids, meeting Yuji’s warm but worried gaze again. She’s not sure if it’s a comfort or not that he seems just as anxious as she feels. “Let’s just get through the Exchange Event first” She suggests.

She’s sure that this is the right choice of action. There was simply no time to dwell on Sukuna’s out of character behavior- then again she didn’t know him, she didn’t know what was in character, he was a curse!- not with all of their peers relying on them to secure the win for the Tokyo Prefecture.

Although she couldn’t deny her head wasn’t exactly in the game during the event. When she finds herself getting sloppy, taking hits she normally should have been able to dodge, she begins to curse the King of Curses himself. Surely this whole thing was an act, that was what he was best at, wasn’t it? Torture? Mind games? He was probably laughing it up in his domain watching her struggle so miserably at an event she couldn’t have been more prepared for.

When shit really hit the fan and curses and curse users reared their ugly heads in the middle of a semi-light hearted game, it dawned on her just how out of it she’d really become. Suddenly it didn’t matter how Mai shouldn’t have been able to get that shot at her shoulder- or how she should’ve seen Miwa’s Domain Expansion coming. There was no way she was going to let a curse like him get in her head and keep her from protecting her friends and herself from a real threat.

And once this attack in the middle of their event was taken care of and the scores were settled, she’d find a way to give the King of Curses a piece of her mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That time came sooner than expected, and it’s seemingly out of nowhere when he pays her a little visit.

Deep down she knows that she should be terrified when the King of Curses is at her door requesting her time for ‘a talk’ as he called it. A thousand questions should flood her mind, and after some time they’ll begin to register, slowly and one by one, far later than it’s appropriate to ask.

He’d gotten her alone, and this should terrify her further, she should feel like a lamb in the presence of a wolf- no- curse. But for some reason, when he enters the training room she’d been doing warm ups in, all she does is stare at him.

Sukuna knows that there’s no way she could have mistaken him for the brat, not with all of his markings, not with his vermillion eyes, not with the abundant amount of cursed energy he carried with him. Any other mortal would straighten up, freeze in place and stare at him in utter fear as they waited for whatever fate he bestowed upon them.

Not her.

Foolishly, he believes this is due to the lifetimes they’d spent together before this one. Even though he’s well aware of the rules of the courtship. He recalls many meetings before this one where he’d had to open her eyes to the Binding Vow that brought her back in every lifetime. Still, he naively held onto a hope that her lack of reaction to his presence now is because somewhere inside of her, she knows she doesn’t need to be afraid of him like the others.

(y/n’s) true feelings couldn’t have been farther from his assumptions. It may have been a moment of poor judgment, but the moment he’d materialized at that door, irritation overrode self preservation. It didn’t matter that the cursed energy he carried was so heavy it was palpable.

She took one look at the King of Curses and furrowed her brows like she was a child he’d wronged, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear for her life when she’s the first to speak.

“What the fuck are you doing out?”

Out, it’s a funny choice of word, isn’t it? Sukuna can’t help the chuckle of amusement. Did she mean out and about, casually roaming the sacred grounds, or could she have meant out due to his control over the brat’s body?

A frown settles on her lips when she sees he’s already enjoying himself. She should be wondering what he’s been up to before he came here, or when exactly it was he gained control over Yuji’s body.

“And what happened to-”

Before she could fully voice her worry for her friend, Sukuna’s waving a dismissive hand.

“The brat’s fine, not everything has to be about him, you know” He scolds her as if this was a conversation they’d had a hundred times before now. Her frown deepens.

“Forgive me for caring more about him than a curse like you” She scoffs back at him.

How was it that in every lifetime she had to have that same bad attitude? Of course eventually she’d always settle down and warm back up to him, century and century again. Some cases took days, others years, and Sukuna was starting to get a feeling that due to the circumstances they found themselves in this time around, this case could be the latter. He frowns at the thought.

He found her so quickly this time, why did she have to be so stubborn?

“Always such a brat, I can hardly tell the difference between you,” He replies.

The look of disgust on her face is washed away by mild surprise. Both from the soft and easy cadence of his usually rough and cruel voice, and from the realization that he probably should have killed her for talking back to him the way she did. Now she starts to wonder just how many buttons she can push before she sees the true side of the King of Curses.

Her brows pinch together as she watches him with calculations behind her eyes. Was this all a part of the act from before?

“How interesting could things have been if you’d swallowed the finger that day and not this brat, hm?” He muses, and he seems genuinely curious about it.

(y/n) can barely keep up with him, trying too hard to jump to conclusions before he’s revealed them. Then again, there might be nothing to understand at all- this was all a part of the mind games, wasn’t it? She makes a mental note to meet with Gojo about this. Sukuna must’ve had greater plans in mind that the strongest sorcerer should be looped in on. Even if so far… he hadn’t exactly done anything… just made her friendship with Yuji fairly awkward.

Sukuna hasn’t moved from the doorway. Her eyes sweep over him carefully as she wonders if this is purposeful. If his motive is to give her a false sense of safety.

“Humor me for a moment, (y/n)”

He sounds out her name like it’s an unfamiliar word, and for the first time since he’d appeared minutes prior, there’s a familiar hollow in her chest. At first she tags it as distress, but the way it lingers like a dull ache has her double guessing it’s cause.

“What?”

No should’ve been what came out of her mouth- if anything needed to be said at all. Would he let her leave if she tried? Would he punish her for it? However, despite every instinct begging to drag her in a different direction, she can’t help the intrigue she feels for him.

“What’re you doing here as a sorcerer?” He hums again with his question, eyes narrowing on her slightly as he takes account of her every reaction.

She’s holding her breath right now, it’s obvious in her tense jaw and unmoving chest. Not even a strand of hair waves in it’s place. Every part of her is so still, he could easily mistake it as her natural instinct to fear him as her natural predator. He knows this isn’t the case.

She opens her mouth to protest the question at first, but just as quickly, her jaw slacks, and she’s closing it softly as she sits on it a little more thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?”

It irks him to have a question answered with another question. This was another quirk of hers that she always had in the earlier stages of their reunion. Even with the grain of irritation, Sukuna still finds himself amused in the way that she truly is the same person in every lifetime. She may have different names, and occasionally a feature or two isn’t quite how he remembered it- and trust him, he remembered- but her soul remained pure, unfiltered, unchanging. She was always his.

“The last we spoke, you had quite the unshakable opinion about a society that breeds and boasts of it’s powerful children to protect them, only to leave them in neglect…” He trails off, scanning her features in the search of any flash of recognition. If anything, she’s only more confused. Her brows are furrowed and her lips have formed a pout which he deemed as her sign of defeat in trying to understand him. “Something about creating the things you fear. But it was quite some time ago, and I see you’ve so clearly changed your mind” He raises a hand, palm up as he lazily gestures to her.

(y/n’s) posture straightens up, partially out of her defensive nature, but mostly due to the seriousness in his tone. Logic tells her she shouldn’t be taking anything he says as truth, it would be foolish, and in the end probably deadly too.

But that intrigue hits her, ignites a tiny spark in her chest that has her longing to learn more. The intensity tells her that if he weren’t this curse, that perhaps if he was just a man, she might humor him in the way he was looking for.

If she began the what if game now, she feared she’d find herself justifying her continuation of this conversation.

“You must have me confused, then”

Her words are clear and concise without being loud.

“I haven’t confused you in any century before this one and I would never confuse you in the ones to come after,”

She tries to hide the surprise in her expression, but she knows she fails. Especially when Sukuna’s amusement in her reaction seems more genuine than before. He takes a step into the room, just a single one.

“Your brat friend is fine. He fell asleep. We have a sort of… deal,”

There is some comfort in his words, even if (y/n) is unsure about her trust in him, the words still hit her chest and her shoulders slowly begin to untense. She doesn’t question him, doesn’t make any comment at all. She supposes he’ll fill the silence eventually, and her assumption is correct.

“You and I have known each other for quite some time,” He continues. “Long ago, you made a Binding Vow to me. A vow that allowed your mortal body to be reborn in every lifetime, so that I may find you”

Her brows furrow, hardly believing this to be the truth. She’s supposed to believe a Binding Vow could hold the power to reincarnate her? A quiet scoff blows past her lips.

“Incredible,” She murmurs, but it’s clear her astonishment isn’t enthusiastic. It’s cynical. “What sort of entertainment do you really gain from this?”

She asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she dares a few steps forward. She’s not all that close to him, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter her distance from Sukuna, the radius of his danger could stretch for miles.

“You never believe me right away” He muses, his hands folding behind his back as he regards her curiously. It makes her feel like a specimen, like a wild animal he’s just stumbled upon, but she doesn’t shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“Would you?”

It’s not the response he’s expecting, but his eyes light up with a flicker of excitement.

“Of course not,” He answers, his lips beginning to curl into a smile. It should send a chill down her spine, but she takes another step forward and tilts her chin up higher. So foolish, he thinks with an air of loveliness wrapped around it, don’t you see that the mere fact I let you live for behaving like this must mean there’s some truth in my words? Instead, he tells her “Yet, you fall every time”

“I fall for the trick?” She snaps, but her intrigue remains.

“You fall for me” He clarifies, a finality in his tone that has her shutting up, albeit momentarily.

No, she must’ve been right, it was all some grand trick. Some ridiculous, theatrical ploy he’d come up with just to deceive her. She’s not sure of the why yet- if he wanted to kill her, couldn’t he have done it already? If he wanted to torture her, couldn’t he have chained her up by now? She’s skeptical, but she would hate to admit that some part of her, deep, deep down, considers that he may not be lying to her.

Of course he must be lying, so she tries to shove that idea down.

“And why would I do such a thing like that?” She asks, her tone bored, but the wideness in her eyes as she awaited his answer didn’t go unnoticed.

Sukuna unfolded his hands in order to push them into the pockets of Yuji’s pants. His grievance in wearing a sorcerer’s uniform was obvious in the unsavory curl in his lips as he briefly glanced down at himself, but his attention returned to her just as quickly.

“A Binding Vow is a double sided contract,” He reminds her. “You entered it willingly,” He tilts his head at her as he watches her process this information, before he tells her the full truth. “In fact, you were the one who brought the idea to me, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that” She mutters out quickly, not thinking twice about the consequences of scolding the King of Curses.

“It’s true,” Sukuna shrugs his shoulders with a lazy drag. “I almost didn’t agree to it. But you’ve always been… convincing”

She’s not sure what he means, because the memories he’s recalling aren’t shared- if they’re real memories at all- and yet, she continues to lay her questions on thick.

“And why wouldn’t I choose to remember all of this then, hm? If I chose to be reborn, over and over, why wouldn’t I have wanted to remember?” She’s challenging him, and Sukuna’s enjoying it, even if it means that right now the distance she puts between them is further than before he’d found her due to her distrust in him.

History has repeated itself for thousands of years, but no event was as perfectly cyclical as she was to him. Time and time again he would find her, and in every lifetime, she’d been his.

“You wanted to,” He tells her. “The vow took a bit of a different turn than expected. See, your soul didn’t simply leap into a pre-existing person with each reincarnate. You were born again. Every part of your being, physical and… otherwise, was reborn. It actually makes it all the more difficult to find you, you know”

“Seems like a copout” She says, her expression unamused.

“Well go on then, what else do you want to ask me?”

“I have nothing,” She lies. “Because I’m not entertaining this any further”

“Fine, then,” To her surprise, Sukuna actually accepts her rejection- if you could call it that. “I’ll give the brat his body back. But you’ll know where to find me once you start to remember”

He leaves without a word, not even a mere wave, and it’s not until he’s gone that (y/n) wonders if she should be worried about him roaming the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, but nothing happens.

In fact it’s such a quiet night that the next morning everyone seems well rested and rejuvenated, all in good spirits and ready to take on the day. Everyone but her. And she can’t stop her eyes from shifting towards Yuji every thirty seconds, always double checking the slits under his eyes, as if one of these times she’d find them open and focused on her.

She can’t get the image of Sukuna lounging so casually in that training room. It’s hard when one of her closest friends shares his face, so even when she’s not anxious about seeing that second set of eyes, her heart still skips a beat when Yuji’s eyes catch hers and he smiles politely.

Naturally, that skip in her heart was due to her nerves, and had nothing to do with the contents of her discussion with the curse inside of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sukuna gives (y/n) what he believes to be an abundant amount of time to let their past settle in. He wants her to process it all properly. He wants her to come to her senses and realize that there were no ulterior motives in his reveal.

He still makes the occasional crude comment from Yuji’s cheek, but while they’re ever directed at her, she finds her posture straightening and her eyes trained on the skin where he’s materialized, always waiting for him to direct something her way. He doesn’t. He hardly even looks at her- when she’s looking, that is. While inside of his domain and perfectly hidden by Itadori Yuji, Sukuna spends as much of his time staring at her while he can. Some days, there’s an intensity so strong that Yuji finds himself not-so-subtly staring at her too. Sukuna doesn’t like this- if he had things his way then no one would lay there eyes on what was his- but letting Yuji sneak glances here and there was a small price to pay in order to make sure the pair remain close enough that Sukuna’s still able to have some sense of nearness to her.

Due to this silent period on his part, (y/n) decides against bringing Gojo’s attention to the situation. While she knows it hasn’t just disappeared, because she just knows that it will be brought up again, she hopes that enough time passes that she can learn to brush it off as nonsense spewed from a bored curse.

It nags at her, despite her best efforts, she never allows herself to forget it completely. It crosses her mind every day, if not every minute she spends with Yuji. The way he stood, the way he spoke, it would play on a loop in her mind until she was sure it would drive her to the point of madness. It very well could have, already.

And one night, she decides to take the reins into her own hands, and she approaches it first.

After watching a partial movie in the common room, Megumi had long gone to bed and Nobara had crashed on a makeshift pile of blankets on the floor, (y/n) feels an anxiousness settle over her when she hears Yuji begin to snore and he, too, was just as knocked out as the rest of her friends.

She debates on it for a moment, her eyes sliding between the flickering television and the resting boy sitting beside her on the couch. Her index finger taps at an unkept pace against her knee, and she lets as many minutes pass as she could, just to be sure Yuji truly was asleep.

Then she turned her head fully, eyes focused on that mark under his face where Sukuna’s eyes were peacefully shut. Not sure of the inner workings on how the whole vessel thing worked, her only choice was to take a shot in the dark and hope it worked.

“I was going to tell Gojo about what you said, you know”

Her whisper is so soft, her voice cracks and gives on certain syllables. Even if he could hear her from in there, she wonders if he could have heard something so silently spoken.

Slowly, the eye opens, and it blinks a few times before it slides towards her. She wonders if he sleeps in there, or if every introduction light when he leaves his domain requires an adjustment.

And then, Yuij’s stirs, and (y/n) freezes up, watching as he twitches before his eyes begin to blink awake, as well. Fear spikes in her chest at the thought of getting caught talking to the curse inside of him while he slept.

But when his eyes fully open and an array of markings begin to paint across his features, she realizes it’s not Yuji. It’s just his body. There’s a certain guilt that follows her relief from this. In no situation should she feel pleased to see Sukuna over Yuji.

“Am I supposed to be threatened by this?” He asks slowly, in a low tone of voice that she can’t decide the cause of. Was he trying to be considerate of the sleeping sorcerer on the ground? Or was he just trying to be as menacing and mysterious as always?

He doesn’t lift his head from where Yuji had been dozed off against the couch cushion, neck craned at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in for the entire night, but Sukuna’s not exactly looking out for the brat’s comfort. He could use a good crick in the neck or two.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could do to threaten you,” (y/n) replies honestly, the hush in her voice making her sound softer than she would’ve liked. She doesn’t need him thinking she’s warming up to being in his presence, after all. “But… would you kill me if I was?”

“What do you think?”

It comes out fast enough to be taken harshly, like he holds a disbelief in how idiotic she could be, but their conversation began with a whisper and it seems to be carried on that way. A lump forms in (y/n’s) throat as she holds eye contact with the darkened vermillion ones that stare back at hers.

The deep feeling she’d buried, the one that told her maybe she trusted him whether she liked it or not, sparked and caught light, burned just a little bit brighter, caused just enough smoke for her to give some of her attention to.

If he truly wanted to kill her, he had millions of chances to do so before now. So she concludes that his goal wasn’t to do so. Of course, this begs the question,

“What is it that you want, Sukuna?”

She’s much calmer than the last time they spoke, he notices. She’s nervous, but not tense, and not nearly as defensive. He’s not naive, he doesn’t mistake this for trust, but he is pleased in her change in attitude.

An idle smile curls on his lips as his fixed gaze softens with familiarity.

Just like every time before now, she always, eventually, came around to him. It was like her curiosity couldn’t keep her away, and her heart always won over her mind.

“I believe you already know the answer to that” He refrains from letting an old pet name fall from his tongue, a courtesy to her that he allows this once, just so she wouldn’t flee from her seat next to him.

She hums, letting the sort-of-answer sit on her mind for a moment. An unknown feeling gnaws at her- or at least, a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to.

“Why?” The word ghosts off of her lips, and even with the worried knot between her brows her eyes stay set on his. “Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Sukuna muses, his lower set of eyes rolling just slightly before he can help it. “It doesn’t have to be you- it just is. It’s always been you, and it always will be”

“Because of the Binding Vow?” She questions, and he blinks at her, processing what she meant, before his brows furrow just a little bit, and he shakes his head.

“The only clause to our vow is that you will always be reborn,” His tongue runs over his teeth as he tries to bite back the amusement he feels when realization dawns on her. “Everything after that comes from your own free will, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that” She snaps at him, but it’s a mumble, hardly audible, hardly threatening. Sukuna purses his lips.

“Like I said, you were the one who came up with the contract,” He huffs. “I would’ve never agreed to such a thing if you weren’t so persistent”

She perks up at that little comment, and suddenly turns in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she faces him. Sukuna’s barely moved at all, still slouched into the cushion in the position Yuji had fallen asleep in. His eyes follow her movements as she sets her elbow on the top of the furniture so she could prop her head in her hand. Her brows are drawn together again as she studies him.

“Then why tell me about it?” She blurts the question out.

“Because I’m the one burdened with the centuries of memories” He replies without missing a beat, voice dry and expression unreadable. He’s keeping it as neutral as possible, knowing her calculating eyes would see right through any sudden change, no matter how small.

“And you are?” She asks, and then in a softer voice, finishes the thought, “Burdened?”

Sukuna blinks, slowly, before letting his gaze wander the soft and curious look on her face. He fights the urge to smile at the loveliness of it all- the twitch in her nose, the small pout in her lip- he’s the King of Curses and there should be no force on this earth that weakens him the way her gentle gaze focused on him does. Even after all this time, she is his achilles heel, she is his greatest burden, and she is the only thing he could ever truly, completely, want.

“Yes,” His answer is quiet, and (y/n) lifts her head as she stares at him with her confusion. “There exists no stronger shackles a being could trap me with the way you have,”

Her face falls, and she’s silent for a long moment. With a dry throat and a mind too busy and overcrowded with thoughts, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. But that gnawing feeling was starting to make her chest ache, and the pounding of her heart in her ribcage was relentless.

“There’s no greater curse I could bear”

She hates the way he says these things so casually, without a strain in his expression or voice. She wonders if it’s because he’s done it so many times that it’s lost it’s value. Perhaps to him, this was just a part of the burden that was her existence, explaining these things to her was simply a chore that needed to be completed. She swallows a few times to ease the dryness of her throat.

“Does it get old?”

Sukuna smiles. It should trouble her- he knows that it unsettles Yuji- but if she feels unease it’s not shown.

“A thousand years of anything gets old,” He sighs, rolling his head over the cushion to stare up at the blank ceiling. “And I’d hate to admit the things that never get old”

It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous and foolish and naive, but she smiles.

“What doesn’t get old?” She asks, her curiosity blending with a sick sense of delight as she wonders just how many sides of Sukuna there really are.

He angles his head towards her again, narrowing his gaze as his lips twisted into a small smirk. It felt like his technique had the ability to see right through her- she wondered if he was really strong enough to do that.

“Last time we spoke, you said you wouldn’t entertain this,” He reminds her. “What’s changed?”

“Nothing,” She murmurs back without a moment of hesitation.

It’s the truth, and she has no reason to falsify an answer for him. Just as he had no reason to be so forward about their past. Even if she hadn’t gathered much, this conversation was much different from their last, and she felt as though she would walk away with this one overwhelmed by all of this new information. Her trust in him is precarious, and could easily be destroyed by one wrong move, but right now, she can’t see what reason she has not to take him at his word. It’s not as if he’s asking for anything in return, it’s not as if she won’t return to her dorm for the night and likely not see or speak to him again for some time. So, she supposed, what was the harm in entertaining the idea just a little?

“Nothing at all” She finishes the thought softly, before turning her attention back to the forgotten movie still playing across the room. It was nearing the end, and she’d missed enough of it to barely understand what was happening on screen now, but she didn’t have any more questions for the King of Curses tonight, and he kept quiet as she watched the movie.

To her surprise, Sukuna did sit and watch the movie. She’s not sure how much of it he actually listened or paid attention to, but it was clear that he had not given Yuji his body back, and was still very much alert and in control.

(y/n) doesn’t return to her dorm room until she finally sees Yuji asleep next to her, his face bare of any markings, and the extra eyelids under his eyes closed just as peaceful as his own.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

In the meantime, (y/n) didn’t feel so anxious around Yuji anymore, which they were both grateful for. Yuji wasn’t sure why the sudden chance came about, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. He was just glad to have his friend acting her usual self again.

He had no idea of the few chats she’d shared with the curse he hosted. While Sukuna wasn’t necessarily hiding his interest in her, he wasn’t forthright with the brat either. He didn’t need the kid interfering with what he was building on here. It was slow moving like a trail of molasses but Sukuna was more patient than most people gave him credit for. He could let a lot of things go.

Not this, however.

All of Gojo’s students had been sent on a seemingly standard assignment. Odd, unexplainable disappearances had been happening in a clearing in the middle of the woods, enough so to alert jujutsu society and send a few sorcerers to the scene to investigate.

Upon arrival, there was an undeniable heaviness in the air. The field that the group of four found themselves in didn’t stretch for miles, but it was no small clearing. It was a strange place for a curse to settle in and lure non-sorcerers towards. Curses often tucked themselves into hidden spots, within abandoned buildings or deep in the thick brush of the woods. Not a clearing of grass and wild daisies.

The entire situation was odd, it didn’t sit right in anyone’s mind as they went their separate ways to scour the area for any insight on what was happening here. It didn’t take long for something to turn up.

A curse that had to have been a First Grade, with a large, sharp toothed grin and gouged out eyes, materialized in the clearing’s center, and as soon as it clocked this evening’s prey as jujutsu sorcerers, it seemed to go into a mad state. (y/n’s) not sure if it possesses great speed or the ability to teleport when it’s suddenly before her. All she’s able to do in that amount of time is lift her weapon into an offensive position, she’s not even given the time to drive it forward in an attack before suddenly, she’s no longer on the ground.

She comes to mid air, just before she hits the ground and rolls a few times before her senses kick in and her hands brace themselves against the ground. She can faintly hear her friends calling for her in their shock, but it’s distant. Her head is spinning too fast for her to lift it to see just how far the curse had thrown her.

A few coughs erupt from her throat before she even tells her body to do so, brought on by the hit to her chest once she’s lifted herself up enough to relieve the pressure from the ground. Her arms are trembling from the adrenaline and a few drops of blood splatter from her mouth, but once she’s sat up enough, she drags the sleeve of her uniform over her mouth to dry the blood, and she finally gets a good look at where she is.

She’s been thrown clear out of the field, and she considers herself lucky that her body hadn’t been halted by a tree, and instead tumbled to the ground. Being thrown directly into one of the large oaks she’s surrounded by could’ve been fatal if she’d hit it just right, or at the very least she could’ve broken her ankle. With a rushed assessment she decides nothing feels broken, and therefore she can grab her weapon and-

Her weapon is nowhere near her. She scrambles to her feet, her breaths heavy and irregular as she searches around the grass, looking for the large blade she’d had in her hands less than a minute ago.

It had only been a minute, right? She hadn’t blacked out, had she?

Realizing there was no use wasting her time looking for a weapon now, she pushes herself to break into a sprint back towards the clearing. Her friends are blurry images moving about, trying to attack the larger blurry images that fends off their attacks with little struggle. She concludes this when she begins to hear the yelps and grunts of her fellow sorcerers, and yet the curse doesn’t seem to struggle at all.

Just when her vision begins to clear and she’s preparing herself to rejoin the fight with only her cursed technique and her fists, she sees the curse grab Megumi by the leg, and soon after he’s getting thrown into the air just as she did. His name is torn from her raw throat in an instant- but Megumi is more prepared to be airborne than she was, drawing his hands together to summon Nue to catch him.

Relief is short lived, and soon Megumi finds himself instructing Nue to catch Nobara and Yuji when shortly after, they’re being thrown as well. Nue’s a quick shikigami, but it’s only strong enough to carry one person at a time before it’s energy starts to deplete, and the curse keeps at it’s movements, chuckling the three of them into the air before they can land an attack on them on their decline. Yuji tries, using Black Flash on his descent in the hopes of striking it where it hurts, but the curse manages to catch him in a tight fist before chucking him again.

(y/n’s) still keeping an eye out for her weapon when she grows nearer to the fight, seeing as no one else’s techniques have caused any real damage yet, her cursed tool of a sword could be quite handy right about now.

She was hoping that with it’s attention focused on the other three, she could attack it from behind, and drive it more towards the clearing again. With how much movement and tossing it had done, it had driven them all deeper into the woods, which made it harder to land attacks, but had been good coverage for (y/n) to sneak up in her approach.

To her disadvantage, she hadn’t expected there to be a pair of large eyes on the back of it’s head. In the dark of the night she hadn’t noticed them until they’d opened and landed on her instantaneously. It must’ve sensed her sneaking around behind it.

She’s quicker in her movements this time, dodging it’s large hand before it could grab onto her, but it outsmarts her and snatches her up in the other. A yelp sounds from her when it squeezes harder than the last time, her air supply cut off just as she’d tried to take in a large breath, making her sputter and cough as it raised her in the air again. A sense of dread and failure washes over her when she realizes it’s going to throw her again. Whatever this curse’s deal was, it had a thing for throwing it’s victims around to torture them.

And torture it was- as this time when she’s launched into the air, it’s a clear throw over the trees. It’s harder than before, and faster. The cool air cuts over her face in sharp streams, bringing tears to her eyes before she could comprehend what would come of her fall. She could brace herself, but as she gets a watery glance at what’s below, she knows that shielding her face would provide no comfort to her fall.

Just past the cluster of oak trees is a steep overhang. Rock and the roots of old trees jutting out some thirty feet to the ground.

This is why her fall felt so long. A sharp gasp escapes her, and when her inhale gets caught in her throat, she wonders if this is the last breath she’ll ever take.

When she shuts her eyes to protect them from the harsh wind, a wetness spreads down her cheeks. In a last ditch effort at self preservation, her arms brace over her face, and she buries herself into them, not wanting to see the last thing that would break her fall. Hopefully she wouldn’t feel it, either.

Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart began to race faster, expecting the crash to come soon.

The sensation isn’t as expected. There is no slam against stone or cold ground that knocks the wind out of her. Instead something’s wrapped around her middle, and out of worry that the curse had grabbed her in order to throw her again, she withdraws her head from her arms in a jolt.

It’s not the curse that’s caught her mid-fall.

It’s Sukuna.

With one arm wrapped around her back and the other around her shoulders, his large hand braces the back of her head to keep her tucked close. They’re still falling, but the sensation feels different like this. It’s almost as if he’s carrying her to the ground, his posture as natural as it would be if he were standing there now.

Wide, watery eyes blink up at him in astonishment when she fully registers what was happening.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you, sweetheart”

If it weren’t for the rawness in her throat, she might’ve scolded him for the pet name, but her voice was taken away from her as soon as she’d been heaved into the sky a second time.

She doesn’t even process the way she’s gripping onto him until he lands on the ground, holding her up just a moment longer before carefully setting her on her feet. Her hands are holding onto the sleeves of Yuji’s uniform in fists so tight her knuckles are white, and her hands are trembling.

The others are nowhere in sight, or at least, she can’t see them right now. Her mind is so shaken up she doesn’t actually look. Her eyes don’t tear away from the stunning red of Sukuna’s once. She doesn’t even blink- hence the continued downpour of tears. From the wind and her acceptance of a brutal death, her emotions were slowly catching up to reality.

Her chest is heaving but there’s no relief in feeling like she’s caught her breath. Her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her ribs ache, but that very well could be the bruising from her previous fall setting in. Her mouth moves but it takes a few tries for any real words to come out, and when her voice does come back to her, she doesn’t say much.

“S- Sukuna-”

He silences her before she could even try to say something else. Prying her hands off of his arms and placing them at her sides, even though there’s still tremors in her muscles.

“I only have a minute,” He tells her, in a gravely serious tone that she’s never heard from him before. She blinks her wide eyes, leftover tears getting stuck on her lashes. “It’s been handled”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t get the chance to before his posture begins to weaken, followed by his eyelids twitching and the marks beginning to fade away.

Gasping, (y/n) surges forward, grabbing Yuji by the shoulders before he could stumble and fall. His eyes roll and blink a few times before he feels in control of his body again. Soon after his posture straightens, and then it’s Yuji who’s looking worriedly down at (y/n).

She’s close, very close. Her hands are gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. He can feel her panting against his chin as her worried eyes scan over his features.

Yuji’s disoriented, like maybe he’s just woken up from a dream, or maybe he’s just woken up inside of a dream, and he’s not exactly sure how to voice this concern. She makes it harder on him when one of her hands leaves his shoulder in order to reach for his cheek.

It’s so affectionate, the way she reaches for his face and presses her palm against it, that Yuji finds his skin heating up and a blush appearing over his cheeks before he could will himself not to. She’s never behaved this way with him before. He could only recall casual touches that occurred during training, or maybe a brush of her fingers when she handed him something, but nothing as intentional as this.

And she’s certainly never looked at him like that either. He can’t place his finger on it, but it makes his stomach churn to meet her eyes.

“Uh, (y/n)?” He mumbles out her name, and he finds himself doing a quick sweep of her, assessing her for a major injury. But she’s standing just fine, and he can’t see any blood. This had to be a head injury, right?

He asks himself that question once more then the pad of her thumb brushes under his eye. She faintly traces the incision of the closed eyelid just below his eyelashes. Yuji holds his breath, but he’s not sure who he’s doing it for. (y/n), whose eyes are glossing over as she’s gazing at the wrong eyes, which remained closed, or Sukuna, who Yuji was sure she was trying to reach to now.

And then she leans even closer, and the breath he’d been holding is forced out of him from the closing distance between them. Her hands remain where they are, on his shoulder with an iron grip and against his cheek with the gentleness of a butterfly landing there.

On instinct Yuji finds his eyes darting down to her lips, but he’s positive she’s not going to kiss him- right? She wouldn’t do such a thing on a whim, not like this, not now when they’ve barely completed their assignment. Not to mention their friends aren’t too far away- where are Nobara and Megumi anyways? Yuji’s thoughts are racing as fast as his heart as he struggles to figure out what to do as she grows nearer.

Before he has to come up with a decision, (y/n) stops, and Yuji swallows the lump in his throat out of relief that she wasn’t leaning in to kiss him. The ride home would have been so awkward.

“Thank you” She breathes out the words, her thumb stroking over the spot on his cheek one more time before she finally drops her hand, and she pulls away from Yuji completely.

He blinks at her in disbelief, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down, which it does the further she steps away.

“What happened?” He asks, louder than he means to, but when he finally collects his thoughts and processes what just happened, he can’t help but blurt out the question.

The pair begin to make their way back to the clearing, both realizing that the First Grade curse was gone, clearly exorcized with the amount of purple goo coating the surrounding plants and trees. They don’t discuss it right away, but they both have an inkling on how it was taken care of.

“Sukuna saved my life”

Yuji wants to ask more questions, but when he turns towards her to do so, he can tell that she’s not ready to talk about it. Her features had hardened, and she didn’t meet his eyes as they walked.

He knows he’s put off this conversation one too many times already… but once again he finds himself biting his tongue as they catch up with their other friends.

Something tells him that he’ll have to bring it up soon, though. Because the King of Curses wouldn’t save just anyone’s life twice- much less a sorcerer. And he has a gut feeling that (y/n) knows more than she’s letting on.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This time, it’s only a few days since the last assignment when (y/n) crosses paths with Sukuna again. Well, this time around, he came to her.

She’s just slid her bookmark between the pages she’d decided to pause on tonight when there’s a knock at her door. With a quiet huff- she was just about to go to sleep after all- but before she can call for her visitor to come in, the door slides open and he’s inviting himself right on.

“Yu-! Sukuna?”

The initial scolding tone she takes drops as soon as she realizes he’s not who she thought. Her voice softens around his name in a way that it shouldn’t, but that she can’t help. She sits up a little further in her bed, brows furrowing as he slides the door shut behind him.

“You can’t just walk in here”

“I knocked”

“Okay well… well you have to wait for me to actually invite you in” She mumbles out, only to be met with a scoff and a humorless chuckle. But when her frown deepens, he sighs.

“Fine, I’ll knock for longer next time” He grunts, before he begins to wander around her room. He glances over the few things littered on her desk- a picture frame of her and her friends, an open and neglected textbook, a pair of bracelets she’d forgotten to put away- he almost forgets why he’d come in to begin with.

“Um… did you need something?” (y/n) asks after a minute of him wandering around and eyeing all of her things.

“You’re freaking out the brat,” Sukuna says casually, picking up a little porcelain cat on her shelf. His eyes narrow as he turns the small thing around in his hands, as if trying to decipher it’s purpose. “He won’t stop asking about you now”

“What?” (y/n) pushes the covers off her lap, moving to the end of the bed to sit a little closer to him. It doesn’t matter if she’s quiet, it’s only the two of them in the room, but she feels a sudden need to lower her voice anyways. “What do you mean he’s freaking out?”

He turns to her then, the figurine still in his hands. The tiniest of smiles purses on her lips at how silly a tiny cat looks in his large and tattooed hands. Despite how easily he could crush it to dust, his hold on it is gentle.

“I just thought that you should be aware, you know, that eventually you’ll have to decide if you want to explain yourself to your friends or not”

Her stomach twists and turns into dozens of little knots. The King of Curses was stopping by her room late into the night just for this? She shouldn’t be surprised, because she knew his motives, but still, she blinked at him with wide eyes.

“You haven’t…?” The question trails off as she shakes her head at him, unsure of how to word it just right.

“I don’t like the idea of the brat knowing all of my business,” Sukuna hums, finally setting the cat back down on her shelf. “You’ve always had a knack for collecting useless things” He comments, and the words are harsh but his tone is nothing but amused.

“So… you think I should talk to Yuji?” She asks, and Sukuna lets his shoulders rise and fall in disinterest.

“If that’s what you want” He says, but it doesn’t feel considerate. (y/n) frowns.

“Don’t you think he’ll be… upset?”

“With you?”

She nods.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, the brat would only worry about you. Seeing as he despises me, and all”

“You don’t exactly make it easy to feel otherwise” (y/n) mumbles, and her words hang in the air for a few long moments. She’s not sure if she means the insinuation behind them or if it’s just a coincidence, but she doesn’t try to backtrack to explain herself.

“Yes, well, he certainly cares more for you than he does for me. Too much so. Some boundaries might do you some good, you know”

“Boundaries?”

“Yes, boundaries. He almost kissed you”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head before her brows furrow and she scoffs in disbelief.

“What? What are you even talking about?”

Sukuna tucks his hands into his pockets, looking all the more out of place in her room at this hour.

“During your little gratitude session on your last assignment,” He says, his lips curling into a deep frown. “You got a bit too close and his brat-mind went a bit haywire. You don’t need to be so affectionate with him, you know. A plain thank you would have sufficed-”

“I wasn’t being affectionate with him,” She snaps back, and Sukuna raises a brow at the display. “I was thanking you, asshole. You pretty much saved my life?” She says it like she’s trying to jog his memory. “I wasn’t trying to make a move on Yuji, and I’m sure he knew that too. I don’t control his thoughts, he can think whatever he wants, doesn’t mean it’s happening”

Sukuna steps closer to where she sat before bending down to match her height. She’s still frowning, clearly annoyed with this interaction, but she had yet to ask him to leave, and he has a feeling she won’t.

“So if the brat had plucked up the nerve to make a move, you would’ve pushed him away?” He asks, and he’s smirking, almost as if he wants her to say otherwise. Her eyes narrow, not understanding what his mind games were getting at this time.

“Politely, yes,” She answers, shaking her head at him. “Why does this matter? Last I checked, in this lifetime, I’m not some cowering wife for you to boss around”

Sukuna laughs at that, genuinely laughs. He stands back up to his full height and throws his head back and cackles so loud that (y/n) can only pray Nobara doesn’t wake up from next door. She might not need to whisper to speak with him, but the walls weren’t exactly soundproof either.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been a cowering wife,” He tells her once his laughter died down. “A wife, perhaps, but never some submissive weak minded mortal” He adds.

“So we have been married?”

She asks him with such peculiarity, and it makes him chuckle again. She sounds as though this has been the strangest thing he’s revealed thus far, and he can’t help but find humor in it.

“We have” He answers.

(y/n) shifts her position, pulling her legs towards her chest and staring up at him expectantly, waiting for a continuation that wouldn’t come. Sukuna merely stares at her with mild confusion.

“Well?” She asks, tilting her head forward. “Did we get married every time?”

He smirks.

“I’ve told you that you created a Binding Vow in order to be with me across centuries of eras. In the grand scheme of things, don’t you think marriage is a little… bleak?”

(y/n) shrugs a shoulder, resting her arms atop her knees as she gazes back at him curiously.

“It’s bleak in this lifetime,” She murmurs back. “Not to me, at least”

Sukuna hums, before shaking his head.

“You never change”

“Do I really?” She presses again. “For the last… thousand years… am I really the same?”

Sukuna ponders for a moment. This was a common question of hers, and each time, he struggled to answer it.

“You really want to know?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she pats her hand against the space on the bed next to her. Sukuna’s gaze shifts to it momentarily, before looking back at her. After a moment, he takes a seat.

“You are almost completely the same in every lifetime I’ve found you in,” He explains. “You’re always stubborn, you never make it easy. But you always… come around,” He turns to her. “Like now”

“You think I’m coming around?” She asks, a skeptical look in her eye that makes him smirk. He leans forward as though the next part he shares is a grave secret.

“You never want to admit it, but you always have a soft spot for me”

(y/n) raises a brow back at him in defiance.

“I think you’ve got that turned around,” She murmurs. “I think the King of Curses has a soft spot for me. And I think he’s making it everyone’s problem”

He chuckles quietly, his gaze sweeping over the gentle features of her face.

“I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory,” He tells her, raising a hand, and gently pressing the pad of his thumb against the center of her forehead. The sudden touch makes her freeze at first, but eventually she relaxes as the rest of his fingers lay in her hair. “I haven’t quite figured it out yet, I don’t know how it is that you’re never able to keep your memories,” He tilts his head as he ponders it for a moment, his eyes focused on where he’s touched her head. “But I think deep down, you know that you trust me”

(y/n) doesn’t have a witty comeback for that one. She’s still reeling from the warmth of his touch, and the weight of his words. But she feels obligated to say something when his gaze met hers again.

“I never said I believed you in all this, you know” She whispers weakly.

“You don’t believe me?” He murmurs back at her, his voice a low rumble as his hand starts to fall from her head. He doesn’t remove his touch, he lets the back of his finger trace along her temple, before slowly moving down her jaw. Sukuna doesn’t seem displeased in her words. If anything, he seems intrigued by them. “You know, you almost look the same in every life, too”

“I do?” She asks, just as his fingers fall still against her cheek.

Sukuna hums, and nods his head.

“The last I saw you, your hair was different,” He tells her. “It was longer, to about… here,” With his free hand, he gently touches her waist, and the way she tenses doesn’t go unnoticed. “You would wear it in all sorts of different styles. Pretty braids and… whatever our servants would desire to do that day,” Her eyes widen at his use of the word servants, but Sukuna glides over it. “But that was a few hundred years ago, of course. It would all be outdated now,” He drops his hand from her waist, but the other remains against her cheek, his touch ghosting over it. “Not that it wouldn’t still be exquisite”

Her eyes shift between his, trying to decipher the emotion they hold. She can’t tell if he’s amused or sorrowful. Was he disappointed that she couldn’t remember?

“This is why I’m the one who doesn’t believe you” He murmurs after a few beats pass.

(y/n’s) brows draw together just slightly, just enough to pinch the skin between them.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her voice betraying her as it shakes just a little.

“Because you look at me like that” He says, nodding at her slightly.

(y/n) blinks, doe eyes resembling the glass of the porcelain cat he’d just been mocking. Her lips are parted, formed in the smallest of pouts as she gazes up at him, that look unrelenting.

She tilts forward, her gaze flickering over his face leisurely, mapping out the black markings, and all the small details that make him so different from Yuji. The way he insists on pushing the bangs out of his face, the broader jaw, the sharper canine that she only notices when he laughs or smiles- which is quite rare. She’s admiring him so openly that Sukuna’s not sure what to do under such heavy surveillance, so he just sits there and allows her to stare.

But eventually, she sighs, and drops her legs from her chest before she crawls across her bed, moving to get under the covers again. Sukuna remains in his spot at the end, watching her without an expression as she settles into her pillow.

“Does it disturb Yuji’s rest when you take over like this?” She asks quietly as she presses her cheek into the soft comfort of her pillow.

No, the brat’s completely dozed off, that’s why he could take over like this. It’s what he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll be sure it doesn’t” He says as he stands, and walks around the bed, facing the side she’s just moved to. He crouches down to meet her eye level again, and (y/n) moves a little closer to the edge towards him.

“Okay, good,” She whispers.

She blames her exhaustion when she reaches out to him, the tips of her fingers barely prodding at the dark ink that follows the sharp curve of his jaw. Her eyes follow it as she traces it down to his chin, almost painfully slow. It takes every ounce of restraint for him not to lean into the touch.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Sukuna,” She murmurs, her fingers lingering on his chin, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I… I can’t…”

She can’t even say the words. She hardly wants to be thinking about them. But Sukuna knows her better than anyone who’s ever walked this earth, and he nods back at her in understanding before she could try to finish the thought.

“I’ve never expected anything of you,” He murmurs, before reaching up to pull her hand from his face, gently closing his fingers around her own as he moves it away. “You have been the greatest love of my life whether you’re able to remember or not,” He tells her, and she listens to him with her full attention. “And whether you believe me or not, you still will be,”

There’s the smallest of squeezes to her hand with his words, and a lump begins to build up in her throat.

“You can ask more questions another time, alright? You should get some sleep, sweetheart”

She gives him a faint nod, her eyes already feeling too heavy to keep open when she feels her blanket being dragged over her shoulders. Distantly, her mind registers that the King of Curses is tucking her into bed, but she’s too tired now to comment on it.

There’s another squeeze to her fingers, followed by a hesitation, and then the soft, unmistakable pair to two lips pressing against her knuckles. It’s not a lingering kiss, and it’s featherlight, over as soon as it began, and again, (y/n) keeps her eyes shut and doesn’t say anything.

Sukuna lays her hand down against her blanket with the gentleness of maneuvering a newborn. She hears him walking away towards her door.

“Goodnight, Sukuna”

It’s the softest call, but it’s enough to make him pause at the door and glance back at her. She still can’t look at him- she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears if she does, although she can’t quite explain the heavy emotion that’s bringing the tears to her eyes to begin with.

“Goodnight, my love”

It’s murmured so quickly before he’s hastily exiting her room that she could’ve missed it altogether, but she doesn’t. Her hand curls into her sheets as she pulls it close to her chest as she lets tonight’s conversation sink into her mind.

The truth was, she did trust him. She did believe him. And she was pretty sure this was the case for the entire time she’s known him. She’s pretty sure this was unavoidable.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everything’s blurry when she first comes to.

And everything hurts.

She tries to move, but it only results in a strangled whine being pulled from her throat as soon as she tries.

She’s on the ground. It’s covered in rubble. There’s glass pricking her arms- or maybe the gravel was just that sharp. There’s a warmth pooling under the side she’s laying on. Likely blood.

Another groan when she at least tries to get on her back in order to assess the bleeding wound on her left side, but just as she’s about to roll her body weight, she catches something in her vision.

Yuji?

He’s slumped over against a wall, and he looks no better than she feels. Covered in bruises and blood that may or may not be his own- whatever went down was ugly.

She blinks a few times to focus her vision a little better. She tries to call for him but her throat is raw and all that comes out is another whine. Either way, he’s clearly passed out and wouldn’t have responded. The fight must’ve taken everything out of him.

Oh, the fight, it slowly starts coming back to her in flashing images. That Blood Manipulation Guy. He was rough. She’s not sure how they got out of it alive- she’s not sure how they got to this point at all. Her mind’s still foggy and the only thing that’s easy to focus on is the shooting pains in her body.

That is, until there’s the sound of clicking heels and hushed, feminine voices. (y/n) hadn’t even realized her eyes had slipped shut again until those two appeared, and she peeks her eyes open to see two girls whispering between themselves as they crouch before Yuji’s body.

They look harmless enough, no older than her, and not to mention they look anxious. So nothing about her blurry assumptions about them triggered any warning flags.

That was, until they pulled out a bag of fingers. Unmistakable fingers.

She needs to get up now and she knows it. She pleads with her body to move, wishing the throbbing hot pain in her left leg would disappear just long enough for her to get to Yuji, to stop these girls from what they’re about to do.

It’s unclear how much time lapses before she notices a third figure at Yuji’s body. A curse. And he seems to have a few fingers of his own, too.

No, her voice cries, but it’s only in her head. You can’t do that.

She’s never felt so weak, her fingers barely twitching against the concrete when she’s trying to tell her body to get up. She’s sure that means none of the rest of her limbs are moving. She’s trapped there.

Her heart is pounding, her breaths are labored, dread consumes her so completely she’d throw up if there was anything left in her stomach.

It’s tough to count just how many fingers are shoved down Yuji’s throat before the curse is clamping his large hand over his mouth and forcing his head back in order to make the unconscious boy swallow every last one. With tears in her eyes she knows it’s more than what’s safe, and there’s a turmoil in her gut as she doesn’t know how to feel about what comes next.

With her heart pounding in her ears she can’t tell what exactly the fighting amongst the curse users and the curse himself was about, but suddenly only the cycloptic curse remains standing over Yuji’s body. He’s grunting and growling, still pushing the boy’s head back. (y/n) wonders if he’s swallowed all those fingers by now.

These three were idiots. But they were idiots stronger than her, and even if she’d had the strength to stop them, it would’ve been futile.

However, now, they hardly made her list of things to be afraid of in Shibuya.

The blood that’s pooled under Yuji’s body startles her- when did that get there? But after blinking a few times to clear her sight and focus just a fraction of a bit better, she realizes it’s not human blood at all, but that awful purple essence that leaves a stench behind.

“I’ll give you one second,” Comes the familiar voice that doesn’t belong to the body it erupts from. “Move”

In a flash, the small crowd around him is a good ten feet back. (y/n) could almost laugh if her throat wasn’t bloodied raw. They chose to wake him up with all those fingers, and now they’re visibly afraid of what they summoned themselves? They truly had no idea what they were in for now.

It only takes one glance towards her before Sukuna’s suddenly before her beaten form, crouching down to assess the damages.

“Now, which one of these insolent freaks did this to you?” He asks, tilting his head as his Reverse Cursed Technique took effect over her wounds with haste. “I’ll start there”

“N-none of them,” She stammers out, even though it’s the truth.

For the first time, she considers that she should be afraid of Sukuna. The other three are still trembling even from their distance, barely letting themselves breathe in his presence.

All she’s ever felt towards Sukuna is irritation, perhaps mild vexation, but mostly he just confused her. But now, she can feel the abundant amount of cursed energy wafting off of him, and despite his history in sparing her life and taking an interest in her, she briefly wonders if this is the moment he changes his mind.

The thought passes in a matter of seconds, when a pair of hands are gently aiding her in sitting upright. Even with his technique healing her wounds, there are still aches and pains that make her wince. Shards of glass falling from her skin as the healing tissue forces them out, bruises that still sting when she moves too quickly before their nasty colors disappear completely.

And Sukuna regards her with an expression she’s never seen before, but it makes her heart lurch in her chest. It’s concern. His brows are knotted, and his eyes are scanning over her repeatedly to make sure no injury was left on her body. This was followed by sizable hands mapping over her carefully just to double check.

She should be afraid, but she’s not.

In fact, as soon as those vermillion eyes return to hers, all she can feel is relief.

And she doesn’t think twice before she’s darting forward on achy knees, her arms wrapping around his neck and the rest of her body colliding into his so harsh it knocks the wind out of her for a moment, but she doesn’t mind panting to catch her breath again. She embraces Sukuna as tightly as she can, as though he’s the only savior she’s ever known, an angel painted in pure white rather than the corrupted being he truly was.

Sukuna has half a mind to grab her by the neck and remove her from him with a snarl about how her injuries were still healing, but instead he wraps an arm around her, his hand smoothing over the tattered back of her uniform.

She could only imagine what the three at the end of the corridor were thinking, watching the King of Curses embrace such a weak sorcerer.

“You understand now, don’t you sweetheart?” He asks her quietly, and she manages a small nod against his chest, before her hands tighten into fists at the red hood that lies between his shoulder blades. “It’s been a rough night, hasn’t it?” He muses, and when (y/n) doesn’t give him a response this time, he uses his free hand to pry her face away from his shirt, hooking her chin under his finger so that she’d meet his eyes.

Rough night didn’t even begin to cover what she’d been put through, what was she supposed to say?

“It’s alright now, my love, I’m here,”

Those words from him shouldn’t bring her the amount of comfort that they do. The tears in her eyes begin to drip down her cheeks. Sukuna’s smiling as he brushes them away, and despite her better judgment, she leans into the touch, seeking out even more comfort. He chuckles at the sight, but humors her as he cups the side of her face in his palm, cradling her head with the gentleness of holding a flower by it’s petals.

She won’t admit it, not now anyways, but she knows deep down that there is no force on this earth greater than the swell of love in her chest right now. It’s something she’s not sure should ever be voiced, but she has a feeling that Sukuna will find a way to draw it out of her anyways. Just as he’s made her trust him, just as he’s made her confide in him, he’s bound to find a way into drawing the confession out of her as well.

Perhaps it’s her own fault, too. Hiding the way a part of her believed everything he’s ever said to her, hiding the way it made her feel to know that she was so loved by a force so strong and unstoppable that he’d scour the earth after every lifetime in order to find her again.

I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory, he’d said. But I think deep down, you know that you trust me.

She stares at him now knowing all of this to be true, and Sukuna can almost see every thought in her dilated eyes, swallowed nearly whole by dark pupils as she clings to him now.

With a brush of his lips to the crown of her head, he makes her a promise that she’ll live through this horrid night yet.

She still holds onto him when he stands, and he lifts her up with ease, cradling her to his chest like she was merely a small and frightened child. The only unease she felt now was knowing what fates were in store for the three at the end of the hall, who Sukuna had set his sights on first.

“Now, let’s take this one on together, sweetheart, shall we?”

Her own fate was still unknown to her, but sealed in place long ago.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ cause i love to love to love to love you // i hate to hate to hate to hate you ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: thinkin about writing a snippet of their past live(s) or something. i wanted to add something like that to this fic but i wanted the reader to feel unsure if they really could trust him soooo it went a diff route. idk don't hold me to it. i'm just a girl.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #sukuna imagine #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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miserycanary · 6 months ago

Text

MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

Text

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent. in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent. the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered.

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs.

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it.

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour.

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him.

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve.

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it.

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet.

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now.

It's how it usually goes.

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much.

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong.

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet.

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage.

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him.

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan.

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details.

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down.

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish.

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all.

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later.

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless.

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this.

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously.

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun.

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight.

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear.

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate.

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties.

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks.

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy.

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation.

"Do you want me to?"

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it.

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him.

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score.

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation.

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer.

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival.

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other.

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

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prophecyofwinter · 5 months ago

Text

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | V

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, tags to be added

Word Count: 3k

Prologue | Chapter IV | Chapter VI | Masterlist

Chapter V | He Won’t Forget

“It is the hour of the nightingale my lady, you must wake up.” A hushed voice stirs you from your sleep and shakes you awake. A groan escaped your throat and you opened your eyes to meet the voice that woke you. A girl no older than yourself stood above you, with pitch black hair and wearing what you would assume to be a maids attire. It was still very early in the morning, the sun hadn't even broken the horizon.

You could tell there was one other maid by the torch light, she was lighting candles that were scattered in different places throughout the room.

“She is not a lady quite yet, miss will do until then.” By the other maids' voice you could tell she was older and more seasoned. You sat up against the headboard to wake yourself up some more. Naturally, the furs that covered your body in the night slipped down exposing your upper torso.

“Miss makes me sound like a spinster.” You groaned while stretching your arms. You step out full from under the sheets, standing on the cold stone floor. The younger maid has a robe open for you to slip into and you follow.

“The Queen has ordered that you see her and the Hand of the King before midday. In that time we must get you bathed, fed, and clothed.” The older maid said while reaching for a jug to spill into a metal bathtub that you hadn’t even noticed.

“Very well. Since you’ve already seen my breasts, I assume it’s appropriate for me to ask your names?” You laugh to yourself as you wrap the front of the robe criss cross. The younger one finds it funny and lets out a soft laugh while the older one simply clears her throat.

“My name is Mela, and this young one is Ellyn. While I am experienced, you are the first person Ellyn has served so please forgive her childishness“ Mela sends a warning glare at Ellyn for her giggles. Ellyn pouts for a moment before joining Mela in emptying the water jugs. You look at the features of the two women for the first time, Mela has blonde hair and Ellyn a medium brown.

It seems counterproductive to put a robe on just to take it off moments later to bathe. As soon as they are finished filling the tub, the water has cooled enough to not be boiling hot. You grab onto both sides of the tub and sink in slowly. A moan escapes your lips as you feel your muscles truly relax. Being on a ship for almost a month didn’t give you many hot warm baths, just room temperature ones. Mela pushes you forward so she could access your back to begin washing. While Ellyn poured scented oils into the water filling your nose with a smell you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You could fall asleep right there, especially when your hair was being washed. Her nails massaging your scalp with even better smelling things. You’ve had your hair washed by another person a few times, but then it was by one of your mothers prostitutes in the workers' baths with her breasts pressed against your back. Up in the air which one you preferred.

For the first time a while you felt fully and utterly clean. You wanted to whine when the water cooled down to the point where it was no longer comforting to sit in. Ellyn holds up the same robe as before waiting for you to slip in. Being careful to not slip as you leave the tub, you put on the robe.

————

As your hair dries, your breakfast is set in front of you. Bread, butter, assorted fruits, salted fish and sweet wine. Mela tells you this is what is normally served in Westeros, a larger variety is served if you decide to eat meals with the Targaryens. You pick and choose from what you are given and take your fill.

A knock clearly made by metal against wood rings through the quiet room. You let out a sigh having an inkling that it may be a certain white haired brother of yours. You speak out a ‘come in’, and maybe you should pick up gambling. Vaegon walked in with clinking armor and his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Forgive me sister, I didn’t mean to interpret your very important work. But, while I don’t need permission to protect my sister, I have been allowed to be your personal guard until you're fully settled.” Vaegon held himself proudly, he’s clearly getting a kick from being allowed to stalk and follow you around in the name of protecting you. His weird little dream is being fueled.

This news makes a shiver roll down your spine. If you weren’t already full you would’ve lost your appetite. “That's… Great brother. That means you’ll be leaving after me and Aemond marry then?”

He clearly stiffens up at the implication, gripping his sword harder. “Most likely yes, unless you still need me here. I recommend you keep me here by your side.”

“No, I’m sure Volantis needs you more than I do. The temple needs you and silver wouldn’t suit you.” You say passive aggressively hoping he will get the hint. After many years he still hasn’t understood so you knew your hopes would be set to the side.

Vaegon opens his mouth again to voice his opinion but you cut him off swiftly.

“I am quite full, I should be getting dressed brother. Make your leave. Now.”

He staggers for a minute before leaving with his tail between his legs. Nothing would dissuade Vaegon from his passions, if he died his ghost would haunt you surely. When the door shut an awkward silence filled the room, neither of the maids sure what to do next. You realize how this must look, harassing your brother. But you know him, they don’t.

The chair squeaks on the floor when you stand up to face your maids and give them a smile. “It's about time I get dressed, no? I would hate to be late.”

A ‘yes of course’ was said in usion and you were guided to a full mirror. You stripped from your robe, seeing yourself fully for the first time in a while. A month at sea and you still looked as beautiful as always.

From what you have seen, Aemond is a proud and cold man. Most likely due to your bastard status. But, men are men at the end of the day, their desires will get the best of them even if it’s against their morals.

You slip into your small clothes, in the mirror you see Mela holding a red dress that you don’t recognize from the ones you brought. You turn to take a proper look at it, it looks like a fairly simple dress. Long sleeves with slits from the forearms down, straight neckline, long skirt, faint decorations throughout, and there's a chain resting on the dress that will dangle across your waist.

“Whose dress is this? Surely you can’t just have ones this nice lying around?”

“Well, it did belong to someone but it was left behind over 6 years ago and hadn't been worn even longer ago than that. Queen Alicent said to go through old wardrobes and find you something for the time being.”

You hoped it was at least washed before giving it to you. It was very pretty, very pretty, but second hand all the same. It was bunched up for you to step in and put on. You felt the strings on the back be picked up and before you could react they were harshly yanked back and all the air was forced from your lungs. A whine escaped from your throat and hands gripped the sides of the mirror. A string of panicked apologies follow as you recollect yourself.

“No no, it’s quite alright. I just wasn’t ready. Whoever owned this had real taste, they have my thanks.” You posed in the mirror, finding a position that wasn't crushing your ribs. The chain was clasped round your waist and groups of your hair are braided back.

A smile creeps onto your face. This small taste of importance is greater than any wine in Essos. Baths to yourself, food served directly in your chambers, lovely kind maids who dress you themselves, soon to be called a Princess with a Prince by your side… It is almost enough.

—————

Vaegon stood two paces behind you. You originally told him to stand 10 paces behind but he insisted. You can’t win every battle. A guard walked you both deeper into the keep. He didn’t tell you where you were going, just that it was by the Queen's orders. You pray it isn’t to get probed again.

Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching rapidly towards you. You turn around and see a clearly Targaryen man, white wavy hair and a slightly shorter stature than Aemond. He looks excited, really excited.

“Just the girl I was looking for. I needed to see you for myself.” He caught up quickly and walked right next to you. The guard uttered a ‘my Prince’ and continued his walk. He could either be Aegon or Daeron.

“You’re Aegon, yes?”

“Did my good looks and charm give it away?” Aegon laughs and you laugh with him. Aegon looks around with his hands out feigning shock. “Where’s my brother?”

“I don’t think Aemond likes me that much.” You let out huff mixed with a laugh while gazing at Aegon from the side.

“He’s always had a stick up his ass, don’t take it too personally. He’ll come around eventually, I certainly would.” Aegon whispers the last part into your ear with a hand on your back, you can smell the wine on his breath. You are surprised by his boldness, but far from the worst things you’ve heard. You give him a straight lipped smile and lean back into him.

“Where am I going?” You whispered slowly with passive aggression.

“Oh? You haven’t heard? I’m surprised you haven’t been told. In the throne room they are reading your letter of legitimization.” He wears a smile so wide you would know he’s drunk immediately. Your eyes go wide. Is it happening this fast? You just got here, you’d thought it would at least take some time.

“Normally it’s a simple letter, but since you are already here…” Aegon makes a weird gesture with his hands.

That makes sense, all you need is a letter from the king, and the King has already asked you to come. You imagine the rest of them would just want to get it out of the way. At least Aegon doesn’t seem to care, maybe too drunk to care.

Not too long until you arrive at the doors to the iron throne. Doors as tall as the ceiling and two men stand at the front, noticing Aegon and you they grip onto the rings of the door and pull them open.

The first thing that graces your eyes is the Iron Throne. It was grand, on top of all those steps with swords casted together. It entranced you. Your mother told you about the Iron Throne, only once. She said her father sat on it like a god and he called her a whore. She’d hoped that it would stab him through the chest just as it did to Maegor.

Snapping you out of your short lived daydream, Aegon grabbed your wrist and led you in a direction. All of the lords and ladies were staring at you both, you hope it wouldn’t linger for long. Near the front of the room you could see that it was Aemond, Alicent, and another silver haired girl. Helena, you believe you were told?

“Look who I found! Ran into her on the way here.” Aegon walked you over to Aemond directly and grabbed his arm and forcibly linked your and Aemonds arms together.

“I believe you lost this brother.” Aegon patted his brother on the back and caressed your shoulder. Between the two of you he caught a glimpse of a servant boy carrying wine and simply moved on to drink his fill. Aegon's mind is an enigma…

Aemond lets out a huff but doesn’t let go. He leans into you with darkened eyes. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I was talking to my future brother-in-law. He is quite funny.” You laugh in an attempt to lighten his mood. Of course, this doesn’t work and Aemond tightens his grip on your arm. Eyes were still on you both so he tried to make it look like a simple conversation.

“Don’t.”

Before you could scoff in Aemonds face, the doors are pulled open once again. You turn your head to see an older man with brown hair and a thick beard. This clearly is not King Viserys by the state of him.

“King Viserys is still too unwell to sit at court. As Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, I will assume his courtly duties.” The room is silent and there’s no sound but the clicks of his heels on the floor going across the floor, up the steps and sitting on the throne.

“First things first, a formal declaration of legitimization from King Viserys himself.” Otto held out a rolled up letter with a red seal holding it together. “Come. Present yourself to the court.” He motioned for you to step closer to the open center, Aemond released his hold and nudged you to go.

You detached from Aemond and walked to the center of the room in front of the Iron Throne. You swallowed hard with your hands folded in front of you, head held high. You wish you’d at least been told this was happening. If it wasn’t for Aegon you wouldn't have had the slightest idea.

The seal was popped open and the scroll unraveled by Otto and cleared his voice before he spoke.

‘As Viserys Targaryen, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

It is with much honor to the Targaryen name,

My Cousin, Y/N of Volantis, daughter of Princess Saera Targaryen, is declared Princess Y/N Targaryen of House Targaryen.

From this day until your last.’

An applause echoed throughout the room, no doubt one done out of obligation. A smile decorated on your face hiding your anxieties and swirling thoughts.

“King Viserys and House Targaryen have my love and appreciation for allowing me into their walls. My mother is extremely pleased with this outcome.” You make a curtsey before the throne. Otto nods and gestures for you to return to where you stood previously next to Aemond.

You thought such a thing would be longer but it makes sense. Bastard legitimization isn’t something that is celebrated as a great thing like Weddings or Name Days. You stand next to Aemond for the next few proceedings until Alicent has Aemond to lean over to her and whisper something in his ear.

—————

You’re linked by the arm with Aemond as he walks you through the palace gardens. You assume this is what Alicent whispered to Aemond about. As your protector, Vaegon is nearby but you try to ignore him.

There is still a tension between you and Aemond that has persisted for the past 24 hours. You are unsure if it is just his nature or if it’s due to other obvious factors. Legitimization doesn’t change the social problems with being a bastard in Westeros. You didn’t expect it to, but you’re nothing if not ambitious.

“Do you take many walks through the gardens or am I special?” You laugh to break the silence.

“I prefer to walk in the gardens at night. For Privacy and it’s better at night.” Aemond doesn’t attempt to make eye contact, preferring to look forward.

“I would take similar walks myself in the courtyards in the Black Walls.” Aemond looks to the side ever so slightly with confusion. “Oh, Right. The Black Walls is this gigantic oval of walls that contains all kinds of things. Palaces, Courtyards, Temples and more. I think I’ll start missing it sometime soon.” Rambling and reminiscing makes you feel better.

Aemond seems to actually take interest, making full eye contact. “I believe I read about the Black Wall before. Only people who can trace their ancestry to Valyria are allowed in, correct?” He talks in a tone you haven’t heard yet, he’s being genuine.

A smile paints your face “You are well read. My father has property in those walls and my mother needs help in her older age so I would split my time between the two.” Hopefully you can visit soon, but realistically it wouldn’t happen for another year or more.

“Your father? No one seems to know anything about your father except that he has quite a bit of money.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday if I really like you. I might even want to take you to Volantis someday.” You tease him, holding onto him a little more snugly.

Aemond likes this banter showing you a small smile for the first time. Though, this doesn’t last long when you see a flicker behind his eyes and he pulls back emotionally and physically.

“Forgive me for cutting our walk short. I have lost track of time and I must head to the dragon pit.” He says with the same tone as he had with anything before this conversation. You swallow hard and attempt to say anything.

Aemond puts his gloved hand on your cheek and kisses the other. “I hope to see you at dinner.”

“I hope the same.”

Aemond takes his leave and all you do is watch him walk away. You bring your fingertips to your cheek and trace the area he kissed you on, your face drops with a sad expression.

“He remembered what you are, Sister. He won’t forget.” With Aemond gone, Vaegon is more comfortable getting closer to you. You hate that he is right. You can’t let him of all people be right.

It’s only been a day and you're chipping at Aemond faster than you thought. It feels like he’s chipping at you at the same time.

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader

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latinasforace · 3 months ago

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Crimson Petals in the Night ( Giyuu x Blood Hashira F! Reader)

a/n: So sorry this took forever to post ….. College started for me & it’s draining me…. work as well even more. I’ll update soon!! thank you!! BTW this story will be SLOWBURN so that’s why it’s slow progress bc i’m building story and such. But DW i’ll make progress very fast bc who doesn’t just wanna make out w giyuu 😫

warnings: drunks flirting with you…

w/c: 15.8k

Chapter 1:

The night was thick with tension, the forest alive with the quiet rustling of leaves and the occasional distant cry of a night bird. The moon hung high, its cold light casting long, shifting shadows across the ground as the slayer moved through the dense underbrush. Her movements were swift, almost a blur, as her nichirin blade sliced through the air with the practiced ease of someone who had faced countless battles. Each step was calculated, each breath measured, as she confronted the demons that lurked in the darkness.

The first demon lunged at her, its grotesque form barely discernible in the dim light. With a sharp, fluid motion, the young slayer sidestepped its attack, her blade flashing as it cleaved through the demon’s neck.

The creature barely had time to react before its body disintegrated into ash, carried away by the night breeze. Before she could catch her breath, another demon sprang from the shadows, its claws reaching for her with deadly intent. Meeting it head-on, her blade a blur as she dispatched it with a single, decisive strike.

As the last of the demons fell, the slayer exhaled slowly, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through her veins. She flicked her wrist, sending the ashing blood on her blade splattering onto the ground. Her kimono, once a pristine black adorned with delicate rose patterns, was now torn and slightly stained, the elegant fabric marred by the brutality of the battle. Sighing softly, her gaze lingering on the ruined garment. The young lady had been keen on taking good care and keep it in perfect condition. Even while tending to the discovered garden earlier that day, she made sure her monomi was clean and undisturbed. But now, all that effort seemed wasted.

As she sheathed her sword, a faint rustling caught her attention. Turning toward the sound, she saw a fellow Demon Slayer emerging from the trees, his face pale and etched with a mixture of relief and awe. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the fallen demons, clearly overwhelmed by what he had just witnessed. "Thank you," he managed to say, his voice shaky with emotion. "You saved my life… I was outnumbered, and I didn’t think I’d make it."

The young slayer offered him a smile, her expression softening as she regarded him. "I’m just glad I was able to get here in time," she replied, her tone calm and reassuring. "I happened to be passing by when I received a call from a crow to assist. I’m currently not in duty—hence why I’m out of uniform. Still, I’m very glad you asked for assistance.”

The young Slayer’s gaze flickered to her kimono, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed that she wasn’t wearing the standard uniform. "I didn’t realize you were a Slayer at first," he admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone. "You weren’t in uniform, and I…"

"It’s understandable," Y/N said, waving off his concerns with a small gesture. "Appearances can be deceiving. But the important thing is that we’re safe. Are you alright? No injuries correct?”

He shook his head quickly, his expression one of gratitude. "I’m fine, thanks to you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

"I’m glad to hear that," she replied. "It’s what we do, after all—protect each other."

As the young Slayer nodded in agreement, motioned his goodbyes, and turned to leave, the slayer bent down to retrieve her gardening tools. She took a glance at her attire once more, a pang of regret tugging at her heart. The Wisteria Estate where she was staying for the time being, one of the many meant for slayers to rest in and settle temporarily, was miles away, that is the the one that was she more accustomed in staying as as well as had her minor belongings in. She could only imagine the strange looks she might receive as she traveled back with her garment in such disrepair. At least her face and rest of her features had remained untouched, not a scratch marring her appearance despite the ferocity of the battle.

Suddenly, flutter of wings drew her gaze upward. A black crow swooped down, its beady eyes glinting in the moonlight. It circled above her head before landing on a nearby branch. “Y/N!” it cawed. “You are to be summoned by Master. Report to the Master’s mansion immediately.”

Her head slightly tilted in question. The Master’s mansion? The young lady had never been called to see the Master, let alone even gotten a glimpse of the well respected leader.

The Master was a figure shrouded in mystery, known only through whispers and the crows’ messages. Only hearing stories of his wisdom and kindness, but also of his enigmatic presence.

Sheathing her blade, she set off with the crow as her guide, her mind racing with possibilities. The journey was quite long, but her curiosity propelled she forward.

As dawn approached, she finally reached the gates of the Master’s estate. The sprawling grounds were bathed in the soft, golden light of morning, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming wisteria.

A pair of attendants greeted her at the entrance, leading the young slayer through the winding paths and serene gardens. She marveled at the beauty around her, the tranquility a stark contrast to the bloodshed and chaos she had left behind. Eventually, they arrived at a grand hall, its doors intricately carved with symbols of protection and strength.

The doors creaked open, and the girl stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat. The hall was vast, with high ceilings and walls adorned with ancient scrolls and paintings. At the far end, seated on a comfortable futon platform, was the Master himself. His presence was commanding yet gentle, his eyes closed as he listened to the soft murmur of the attendants.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft yet resonant, carrying across the hall like a melody. “Welcome.”

Y/N approached, her footsteps echoing in the silence. Knelling before the Master, bowing her head in respect. “Master,” she said, her voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in her chest.

The master sat quietly for a moment, his serene presence filling the room. Y/N stood before him, her heart pounding in anticipation and curiosity. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the space feel more intimate, almost sacred.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before," the master began, his voice calm and gentle. "But I have certainly noticed your efforts as a slayer."

The slayer bowed her head in respect. "It is an honor to meet you, Master."

The master smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "You have shown remarkable strength and dedication in your missions. Your unique abilities have not gone unnoticed."

The slayer felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, but a question hung in the air, unspoken but palpable.

"Do you know why you are here today?" the master asked, his tone turning more inquisitive.

Y/N blinked, her mind racing to find an answer. She had been summoned without explanation, and her thoughts had been a whirlwind of possibilities since then. Finally, she shook her head, her confusion evident. "No, Master, I do not."

The master nodded, seemingly expecting her response. "Today, I am honored to officially recognize you as a Hashira. You have slayed more demons than the expected amount as ranked Hashira. Your unique abilities and unwavering spirit have earned you this title. You have done well.”

The young woman’s heart swelled with pride and joy at his words, but also with confusion. “Master,” she began hesitantly, “I am honored, but I am also surprised. I never expected to be promoted to Hashira so soon. Why me?”

The Master’s smile deepened, his eyes reflecting a calm assurance. “Your shock is understandable, Y/N, but your title is well-deserved. You have consistently shown extraordinary strength and skill, exceeding the kills of many demons. You have proven yourself fit and strong enough to face even the Twelve Kizuki in the future.”

The slayer’s eyes widened at his words, but the Master continued. “Moreover, I have noticed something remarkable about your missions. Whenever you lead a group of slayers, there are always little to no major injuries among them. They return safe, largely thanks to your presence and leadership.”

A wave of realization washed over the demon slayer as the Master’s words sank in. She had always strived to protect her fellow comrades, but hearing it acknowledged so clearly was both humbling and empowering.

The Master gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward with folded fabrics. “This is your new uniform, a symbol of your rank and your duty,” he said. “You are now the Blood Hashira, the first of your kind.”

The Blood Breathing user accepted the bundle, its fabric rich and adorned with the writing stating ‘Blood Hashira.’ She could feel the weight of her new responsibilities settling on her shoulders, but also the thrill of recognition and purpose.

“The path of a Hashira is fraught with danger and challenges,” the Master continued. “But it is also a path of great honor and reward. You will have access to the best resources, training, and support we can offer. Your strength will inspire and protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

The girl, now a Hashira, looked up at the Master, her eyes shining with determination. “I understand, Master. I will do everything in my power to uphold this honor and fulfill my duties.”

The Master nodded, his eyes full of pride and warmth. “I have no doubt that you will. Remember, Y/N, your strength lies not just in your abilities, but in your heart. You are a beacon of hope for us all.”

Feeling the swell of emotion at his words, her resolve hardened. She was ready to embrace her new role, to fight with everything she had to protect humanity from the demons that threatened it.

As the Master finished speaking, he paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Y/N, are you familiar with the rest of the Hashira?” he questioned.

The young lady paused for a moment, striving to recall if she had ever personal meet any of them. She had heard multiple rumors that certain element breathing Hashira’s were indeed intimating, some would even belittling and harassing the other lower ranking slayers due to their superiority. Even so, she had never bothered to memorize their names or be intrigued in any rumors or saying going around regarding them. Focusing more on training and completing missions, abolishing demons. “No Master. I have yet to ever come face to face with any of them.”

He nodded, the sunlight filtering through the delicate cherry blossom trees casting a dappled pattern across his face. "Take some time to wander the grounds and enjoy the peace. The other Hashira will seek you out. I am sure they are eager to meet you.”

With a final bow, you bowed respectfully and left the wing, beginning to explore the mansion’s grounds. The beauty of the place was almost overwhelming, each step revealing another stunning view—a lush bamboo grove swaying gently in the breeze, a bridge arching gracefully over a sparkling pond, and a small pavilion where the Master often sat in quiet contemplation. The tranquil surroundings put you at ease, calming the remnants of the tension you carried from your previous battles.

Here, in this sanctuary, it was easy to forget the horrors that awaited outside the mansion’s walls.

As she wandered and admired the beauty of the Master’s Estate, she heard footsteps approaching, and you turned to see a group of individuals making their way towards her.

The first to come the closest to her was a tall man with a fiery mane of red and yellow hair, his presence as warm and vibrant as the sun. The man’s eyes were filled with a boundless energy, his smile as bright as his flame-colored haori. "Ah, you must be the Blood Hashira!" he greeted you with a booming voice that matched his powerful aura. "I’m Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Hashira. It’s a pleasure to meet you!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and the girl couldn’t help but return his smile. There was something comforting about his presence, as if his very being radiated a sense of protection and warmth.

Before the Blood Breathing user could respond, another figure from the group greeted you —a striking man adorned with an array of flashy accessories, from his headband to the multiple earrings that caught the light. His long, silver hair shimmered like the surface of a moonlit river. "Tengen Uzui here, Sound Hashira. The Blood Hashira, huh? Sounds flashy! I like it!" His grin was wide and confident, a man who clearly took pride in his appearance and power. Tengen’s boldness was both intriguing and slightly overwhelming, his loud personality a stark contrast to the peaceful surroundings. Yet, there was a charm to his audacity, a confidence that seemed unshakable.

Another slightly shorter man than the first two came forward, his expression hard and unyielding. His sharp eyes, framed by a wild mess of white hair, assessed you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "Sanemi Shinazugawa," he introduced himself brusquely. "Let’s hope you’re as strong as they say." His voice was edged with challenge, and the slayer could feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on her. She met his gaze steadily, understanding that respect from him would have to be earned.

Next one to free you was a small, graceful woman with a deceptively gentle smile. She moved with the lightness of a butterfly, her presence delicate yet undeniably sharp. "Shinobu Kocho, Insect Hashira. Welcome to our ranks. I look forward to working with you." Her voice was sweet, almost musical, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that spoke of lethal skill hidden behind her soft exterior. Her beauty was astonishing as well, the new promoted Hashira admiring her looks.

Finally, a towering figure approached, his massive frame almost dwarfing the peaceful surroundings, greeted you with a calm, deep voice that resonated through the garden. "Gyomei Himejima," he said, his hands clasped in a prayer-like gesture. "May your path be blessed with strength and courage." His presence was like that of a mountain—unmovable, steady, and profoundly comforting.

As each Hashira introduced themselves, you couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity when the last one stepped forward and remained silent. His presence was quieter than the others, but no less commanding.

Then, she realized.

It was him—the swordsman from the garden that night, the one who had sternly told her to leave. His intense blue eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the recognition flicker across his face. He gave her a brief gaze, his expression unreadable.

He didn’t introduce himself, just like that night. Instead, he turned and walked away, his patterned haori fluttering lightly in the breeze, leaving you with a sense of unresolved curiosity. Why hadn’t he spoken? Why did he remain so distant?

Before the girl could ponder further, Master Ubuyashiki’s voice interrupted her thoughts. "Now that you’ve met your fellow Hashira, I will dismiss you all. I have no doubt that you will grow to rely on each other in the battles to come."

The Hashira began to disperse, leaving her standing alone in the tranquil garden, her thoughts lingering on the mysterious swordsman from last night and that piercing gaze. There was something about him that intrigued her, something that made herwant to understand him better. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the journey that lies ahead. She was the Blood Hashira now, and she would prove yourself worthy of the title.

The sunlight slightly gleamed upon the Earth, creating a small warmth wave across the surface as Y/N stepped through the threshold of the Master's mansion, the echoes of her soft footsteps lost in the vastness of the surrounding garden. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting silver light upon her path. The tranquility was almost unsettling after the intensity of her recent induction as a Hashira. As she neared the stone steps leading to the courtyard, a gentle voice called out from behind.

"Lady Y/N," the voice was soft, almost hesitant. She turned to see one of the Master's attendants, a young woman with kind eyes and a graceful demeanor. Beside her stood a girl, delicate and serene, a complete replica of the older woman she was beside, excluding the shorter hair.

"Is something the matter?" The departing lady asked, her voice equally gentle, though laced with a hint of confusion.

The attendant stepped forward, her hands clasped respectfully in front of her. "Forgive me for intruding, Lady Y/N, but before you depart, we must collect your blade."

Y/N’s brow furrowed, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her sword, a weapon that had become almost an extension of her own being. "My blade?" she repeated, perplexed.

The attendant smiled, understanding her confusion. "Yes, every Hashira is gifted a new sword upon their ascension. It is tradition. The Master wishes to ensure that your weapon is of the highest quality, forged anew with the finest ore. The words 'Destroyer of Demons' will be engraved upon it by the most skilled swordsmiths in the land."

The Blood Hashira hesitated for a moment, her grip on her sword tightening before she slowly began to unfasten it from her side. She handed the blade over, the attendant accepting it with a deep bow of respect. "It will be returned to you soon, stronger and more refined," the attendant assured her.

"Thank you," she said softly, though her mind still lingered on the idea of parting with a sword that had seen so many battles at her side, her greatest weapon of protection. But as she released it, a sense of new beginnings washed over her, a subtle thrill of anticipation for her new upgrade.

The shorter attendee, silent until now, stepped forward, her delicate hands holding a small, ornate box. She opened it to reveal a finely crafted red bow, which she offered to Y/N. "For your crow," the girl said, her voice almost musical. "The messenger has already been sent to fetch your belongings. You will be escorted to your new estate with guidance from your crow. It’s your right as a Hashira to have a place of your own, filled with clothing and furnishings befitting your station."

The girl blinked, absorbing the unexpected news. "An estate?" she repeated, her tone marked with surprise.

The attendant nodded, smiling warmly. "Indeed. It is situated in a secluded area, surrounded by nature, where you can find peace and solace when you are not on duty. Your crow will guide you there."

As if on cue, a sharp caw echoed through the night, and the young slayer turned to see a dark silhouette perched on a nearby branch. The crow's feathers were sleek, gleaming like obsidian under the moonlight.

A wave of familiarity washed over Y/N at the sight of her crow. It had been some time since she had seen it, having been off duty and receiving her orders from other crows in the interim. The bird had been her companion through countless missions, its sarcastic wit a constant in the chaos of her life. Now, seeing it again after what felt like an eternity, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Finally done with all the formalities?" the crow croaked, its voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound light in the warm noon air. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Did you miss me?”

The crow fluffed its feathers, clearly put out by the suggestion. "Missed you? Hardly. I’ve simply been bored out of my mind with these other assignments. But at least now things might get interesting again."

The young girl shook her head, still smiling as she took the box from the Master's daughter and carefully tied the bow around the bird’s neck. "You haven’t changed a bit," she remarked, her tone affectionate despite the crow’s sharp words.

The crow puffed out its chest, clearly pleased with its new accessory. "Someone has to keep you on schedule. Now, are you ready to see this grand estate of yours, or would you prefer to wander the forest all night?"

"Lead the way," she replied, her voice laced with amusement as she followed the crow, the faintest breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and pine.

The crow flew ahead, its dark wings slicing through the bright air of the early day beginning , leading the young slayer along a narrow path illuminated by the soft glow of sunlight peaking over. The landscape around them was serene, untouched by the chaos she had so often encountered on her travels. Tall trees, their leaves shimmering like gold in the sun gaze, lined the path, creating a lightning gloom that blended gently in the breeze of the forest. The scent of pine and earth was rich, grounding her as she walked, her steps quiet and deliberate.

Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to the words of the attendant. “It will be your responsibility to watch over and guard the surrounding area and villages nearby from your estate, from any demons, every night or whenever you’re around.” The weight of those words settled on her shoulders, a familiar burden, yet now there was a permanence to it. This place—this estate—would be her new base, her stronghold against the darkness that threatened the innocent lives she had sworn to protect.

The path began to widen, and the young lady noticed subtle changes in the surroundings. The trees, though still wild and ancient, seemed more deliberately spaced, their trunks standing as silent sentinels guiding her way. She could make out the faintest glimmers of lantern in the distance, warm light spilling across the ground, beckoning her forward.

When she finally reached the estate, she paused, her breath catching in her throat. The structure before her was breathtaking—a sprawling mansion that seemed to emerge from the very heart of the forest, its wooden beams and tiled roof blending harmoniously with the nature surrounding it. The architecture was elegant, every line and curve a testament to the craftsmanship that had gone into its construction.

A large yard spread out before the mansion, meticulously maintained with stone pathways winding through lush gardens. Cherry blossom trees, their petals pale against the night sky, dotted the landscape, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. A koi pond reflected the moonlight, the water calm and clear, the fish gliding silently beneath the surface. It was a place of peace, a haven from the world beyond its gates.

But as Y/N took it all in, a sense of unease crept over her. This estate was beautiful—too beautiful, too grand for someone like her. It was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the life she had known. She had grown up in an orphanage, sharing a single room with many others, where space and belongings were scarce. The only constants in her life had been the camaraderie of the other children and the bare necessities.

Now, she was faced with an estate that could house a dozen families, each room likely larger than the entire orphanage she had once called home.

"This is… a lot," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped into the yard. The crow, perched on a low branch nearby, tilted its head, regarding her with a knowing look.

"Overwhelmed, are we?" it cawed, its tone a mix of amusement and something almost sympathetic. "Not exactly what you’re used to, is it?"

Y/N shook her head, still trying to process the sheer scale of it all. "No, it’s not. It’s… too much, really."

The crow fluttered down from the branch and landed on a stone lantern, its sharp eyes watching her closely. "You’ve earned this, you know. This isn’t just a reward; it’s a necessity. A Hashira needs a place to retreat, to recover. You can’t protect anyone if you don’t take care of yourself first."

The young woman sighed softly, the truth in the crow’s words settling in her heart. It was true—she needed a place to rest, to gather her strength between battles. But still, the grandeur of it all made her feel out of place, as if she were an intruder in a life that wasn’t her own.

Slowly, she walked up the steps to the mansion’s entrance, the wooden doors large and imposing, yet beautifully carved with intricate designs. She pushed them open, and the inside revealed itself as just as elegant as the exterior. The main hall was vast, with high ceilings and polished wooden floors that gleamed in the lantern light. Tatami mats lined the floor, and sliding doors led to other rooms, each one a mystery waiting to be explored.

Despite the overwhelming luxury, there was a quietness to the space, a sense of solitude that spoke to her. Perhaps, with time, she could come to call this place home. Perhaps, in these halls and gardens, she could find a sense of belonging she had never known before.

As she stood there, taking in the mansion that was now hers, the crow flapped its wings and settled on her shoulder, its familiar weight a comfort. "Don’t let it overwhelm you," it murmured, its voice softer now, almost gentle. "This is just the beginning. You’ll grow into it. After all, a Hashira’s life is always one of adaptation."

The young lady nodded, a quiet determination forming within her. This estate, this responsibility—she would embrace it, not because it was expected of her, but because it was her path.

Time had a strange way of slipping through the young lady’s fingers in the weeks following her induction as a Hashira. The days blended together, marked by rigorous training, daily missions, and constant patrols. Yet, despite the relentless pace, she found herself slowly adapting to this new life—one of solitude and silent determination, a life that required her to be both warrior and guardian.

A week after her arrival at the estate, she stood in the main hall, waiting as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting the room in shades of amber and gold. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts, processing the challenges she had just faced in her first missions as a Hashira. The demons she encountered were far more formidable than those she had faced as a regular slayer, their cunning and strength a stark reminder of the power she now had to wield. But despite the major increase in difficulty, every mission had ended in success, her blade cutting through the darkness with precision and determination.

As she reflected on these battles, the large wooden doors of the mansion creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, his presence almost overshadowed by the massive bundle he carried on his back. He was a broad-shouldered man with graying hair tied back in a messy knot, his hands calloused from years of working with metal. His clothes were simple, but the weight of experience hung about him like an invisible cloak.

“Lady L/N,” he greeted with a deep bow, setting down the bundle with care. “It is an honor to meet you again. My name is Kurogane, and I’ve come to deliver your new blade.”

The young lady approached, her gaze flickering to the wrapped sword he laid before her. She had grown accustomed to the weight of her previous blade, but there was an undeniable excitement in receiving something newly forged, something that would become an extension of herself in battle.

“Mr. Kurogane,” She acknowledged with a respectful nod, her eyes tracing the outlines of the package, eager to see the weapon that had been crafted for her.

Kurogane unwrapped the sword with reverence, revealing a gleaming blade of deep crimson, the metal polished to a mirror-like sheen. The hilt was intricately designed, wrapped in black and deep red fabric that provided a firm grip. Along the flat of the blade, the words “Destroyer of Demons” were engraved with precise care, the characters catching the light in a way that made them almost glow.

“This sword is forged from the finest ore, selected specifically for you,” Kurogane explained as Y/N gently took the sword into her hands, feeling the perfect balance, the way it felt like it was meant for her and her alone. “It’s lighter, sharper, and more durable than your previous blade. The engraving was done by a master craftsman—it will serve you well in your duty as a Hashira.”

The slayer turned the sword in her hands, testing its weight, feeling the way it cut through the air with effortless grace. It was indeed a work of art, but more than that, it was a tool, a weapon she would rely on to protect those who could not protect themselves.

“It’s perfect,” she said softly, her voice tinged with awe. “Thank you, Mr. Kurogane.”

Kurogane gave a small, satisfied smile. “I’m glad it pleases you, Lady L/N. Remember, this blade will serve you well, but it will also require care. Should you ever need adjustments, or if the sword is damaged in battle, do not hesitate to contact me. I’ll come at once to ensure it remains in perfect condition.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating the craftsman’s dedication. “I will. Your work is remarkable—I’m honored to wield this blade.”

With another deep bow, Kurogane took his leave, the doors of the mansion closing behind him with a soft thud, leaving Y/N alone with her new sword. She stood there for a moment longer, simply holding the blade, letting its weight settle into her hands, before she sheathed it and attached it to her side. The sword was hers now, and it felt as if a piece of her had finally fallen into place.

As the days passed, Y/N fell into a routine, though ‘routine’ was a generous word for the life of a Hashira. Every morning began with rigorous training in the mansion’s extensive grounds. The estate was vast, almost too vast for her alone, but she made use of every part of it. The training grounds, with their open space and various terrains, allowed her to push herself further than she ever had before, perfecting her techniques, strengthening her body, and honing her mind.

Missions came frequently, each one more challenging than the last. She faced demons of all kinds—cunning, powerful, and relentless. Yet, despite the growing difficulty, she met each challenge head-on, her new blade slicing through the darkness with deadly precision. The demons she fought were more vicious, their abilities more refined, but they still fell before her, one by one. However, she had yet to encounter an Upper Rank demon, and that fact both relieved and unsettled her. The anticipation of such a battle lingered in her mind, but for now, she was content to focus on the tasks at hand.

In the evenings, after the sun had set and the world had quieted, Y/N would return to the estate, the exhaustion of the day’s battles weighing on her limbs. She had grown accustomed to the mansion, its grandeur no longer as overwhelming as it once had been. The hot springs and baths became a sanctuary, the warmth soothing her tired muscles and allowing her a rare moment of peace. The estate’s resources were plentiful—almost too plentiful—but she found comfort in the quiet luxury, in the moments when she could simply be, without the weight of her duties pressing down on her.

The mansion’s gardens, too, became a place of solace. She often found herself wandering the stone pathways at night, the cherry blossoms glowing softly under the moonlight, their petals a gentle reminder of the beauty that still existed in the world despite the darkness she fought against. The koi pond, with its calm waters, offered her a moment of reflection, the fish moving silently beneath the surface, their movements soothing in their simplicity.

However, the abandoned sanctuary from before lingered in her mind. She hadn’t had time recently to go assist the forgotten garden. Mentally noting to pass by next time she’s out on a mission, no matter how exhausted she may be.

Now, it was the training grounds where she spent most of her time, pushing herself to the limit, testing the boundaries of her new blade, and preparing for whatever battles lay ahead. The vastness of the estate no longer felt overwhelming—it felt like a challenge, a place where she could grow stronger, where she could become the skilled slayer she needed to be.

The crow, always by her side, watched over her with a sarcastic but unwavering loyalty, its sharp comments a constant companion in her solitude. “You’re getting used to this place, aren’t you?” it would caw, perched on a branch as she trained.

Y/N would merely smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Perhaps. It’s starting to feel… like mine.”

The crow would fluff its feathers, its tone as dry as ever. “Good. Because you’re stuck with it. Might as well make the best of it.”

And so she did. Each day brought new challenges, new demons to slay, new victories to be won. The estate, once overwhelming in its grandeur, became a part of her, a place where she could find strength and peace in equal measure.

In just a month, she had begun to truly understand what it meant to be a Hashira. It wasn’t just about the battles or the demons—it was about the responsibility, the constant vigilance, the never-ending drive to protect and serve. It was a life of solitude, but it was also one of purpose. And in the quiet moments, when she stood in the gardens or soaked in the hot springs, she found that she was not just surviving—she was thriving, embracing the life that had been laid before her.

Weeks had passed since Y/N had fully settled into her new role as a Hashira, her life marked by a steady rhythm of missions, training, and solitude. Her daily routine became almost second nature—a ritual of honing her skills, perfecting her techniques, and ensuring that she was always prepared for whatever new threat might arise.

Yet, as she sharpened her blade one quiet morning, her routine was abruptly interrupted by the sudden arrival of her messenger crow.

It swooped into the courtyard, cawing loudly as it landed on the stone ledge near her, the red bow around its neck fluttering in the breeze. “Lady Y/N, you’re summoned to the Master’s mansion. Urgently.”

She paused, her hand stilling on the blade. It was unusual to be called to the Master’s mansion so suddenly, and the crow’s tone carried an unspoken urgency. She sheathed her sword, her mind already shifting from the quiet of her estate to the unknown reason behind the summons.

“Very well,” she replied, her voice calm despite the stirring of curiosity in her chest. She wiped her hands clean and adjusted her uniform before following the crow, who led the way with a sharp caw, its wings beating steadily against the early morning air.

As they made their way through the forested path, she allowed herself a moment to take in the surroundings—the familiar trees, the scent of damp earth, and the distant sounds of life in the village below. She recalled the attendant’s words from her first day, reminding her of her responsibility to watch over these lands. The weight of that duty settled over her like a cloak, but it was one she had grown accustomed to wearing.

Before long, the Master’s mansion came into view, its presence as imposing as ever. The ancient structure stood tall and serene, a beacon of guidance and leadership for the Demon Slayer Corps. Y/N approached the entrance, where several attendants awaited her arrival, their faces a mixture of solemnity and respect.

“Lady L/N, welcome,” one of them greeted, bowing deeply. “The Master is expecting you. Please follow us.”

Without a word, the young lady nodded and followed the attendants through the winding halls of the mansion. The atmosphere inside was calm, almost ethereal, with the soft rustle of robes and the distant murmur of wind chimes filling the air. The serenity of the place was a stark contrast to the constant chaos and danger that defined her life outside these walls.

Finally, they arrived at a set of sliding doors, which one of the attendants gently pushed open. Inside, the room was bathed in soft light, the shoji screens filtering the sunlight into gentle hues of gold. The Master sat in his usual spot, his presence as calming as ever, radiating an aura of quiet authority. His attendants flanked him, their expressions unreadable but attentive.

But it wasn’t the Master who immediately caught Y/N’s attention—it was the figure seated before him, on the opposite side of the room. The same mysterious man who had not introduced himself to her all those weeks ago in the garden, his presence now as imposing as it had been then. He sat with a composed demeanor, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes fixed ahead.

As she entered, the Master’s gentle voice filled the room, drawing her attention back to him. “L/N, thank you for coming on such short notice,” he began, his tone warm and inviting. “There is someone I would like you to meet formally.”

The young slayer approached and bowed deeply, her eyes flicking momentarily to the man seated before her before returning to the Master. “Of course, Master. It is an honor to be here.”

The Master’s kind smile deepened. “This is Giyuu Tomioka, the Water Hashira. He was present during your first visit, though I’m not sure you both did had the opportunity to be introduced properly. Tomioka, this is L/N, our newly appointed Blood Hashira. I have summoned you both today because there is a matter of great importance that requires your combined strength and skills.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted to Giyuu once more, this time with a newfound respect. She had heard of the Water Hashira the past month, his reputation as a formidable and stoic warrior preceding him. The memory of their brief encounter in the garden returned to her, the way he had been so stern, so seemingly unapproachable. Now, as they stood in the same room, she realized that this mission would be her first opportunity to truly work alongside another Hashira.

Giyuu inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his expression as unreadable as ever. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N,” he said, his voice low and even, betraying none of the thoughts that might be running through his mind.

She returned the gesture, her own voice steady. “Likewise, Mr. Tomioka .”

The Master’s voice gently interrupted their exchange. “I am confident that you two will work well together,” he said, his tone imbued with the wisdom of someone who had seen many partnerships forged and tested. “The mission I’m about to assign to you is of great importance.”

The Master’s voice, gentle yet filled with the gravity of the situation, broke the silence. “There is a demon terrorizing a village far to the west,” he began, his tone steady but serious.

“This is not just any village—it is a heavily populated area, teeming with innocent lives. However, it’s also under the watchful eyes of government police who do not acknowledge the existence of the Demon Slayer Corps. Should they see you in your uniforms, it could cause significant trouble, both for you and for our mission. It would also alert the demon to your presence, giving it the opportunity to flee or prepare an ambush.”

She felt the weight of the Master’s words sink in. A mission in a populated area, under the scrutiny of the authorities, would require not just strength but careful strategy and discretion.

“The demon itself is exceptionally dangerous,” the Master continued, his expression growing darker. “It has been causing widespread destruction, reducing entire buildings to rubble with an explosive demon art. This, coupled with its relentless killing of innocent people, has spread fear throughout the region. The demon has proven elusive, using the chaos it creates to cover its tracks. Your task will be to locate and eliminate this demon without drawing attention to yourselves or the Corps. It is imperative that you succeed, as well as keep the injured and casualties as little as possible.”

As he spoke, the girl could feel the enormity of the mission pressing down on her shoulders. This was no ordinary demon, and the risks involved were far greater than any she had faced before. Yet, alongside the weight of responsibility, there was also a fierce determination growing within her—an unwavering resolve to protect those who could not protect themselves.

“We will not fail, Master,” Y/N vowed, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within her. “We will bring this demon to justice and ensure the safety of the city and its citizens.”

Giyuu nodded, his expression solemn but resolute. “We’ll handle it.”

The Master’s expression softened, a small smile playing on his lips. “I have no doubt that you will succeed. May you both return safely, and may your blades bring an end to the darkness that threatens our world.”

With that, the meeting was concluded, the Master’s attendants bowing as Y/N and Giyuu exited the room together. The weight of the mission hung between them, a shared responsibility that would bind them in the days to come.

As they walked through the halls of the mansion, Y/N felt the presence of Giyuu beside her, a silent but undeniable force. She had heard here and there of his strength but more so of his cold demeanor in battle, but there was more to him than the rumors suggested—an undercurrent of resolve and perhaps, a shared understanding of the burden they both carried as slayers.

When they reached the mansion’s entrance, Y/N paused, turning to Giyuu. “This is my first major mission as a Hashira,” she admitted, her voice steady but tinged with the honesty that she rarely allowed herself. “I won’t let you down.”

Giyuu regarded her for a moment, his expression inscrutable, before he nodded. “We’ll do this together,” he replied, his tone firm, if not entirely cold. “No one fights alone.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, her resolve hardening. Together, they would face whatever awaited them in the faraway village. Together, they would bring an end to the terror that had gripped it. And together, they would prove that the Hashira, despite their solitary nature, were united in their mission to protect the world from the darkness that threatened to consume it.

As they departed the Master’s mansion, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that this mission was the beginning of something—something that would test not just her strength, but her character, her resolve, and her ability to work alongside another Hashira.

The journey to the distant village was long, the landscape shifting from dense forests to rolling hills as they moved hurriedly through the night. Y/N beside Giyuu, the silence between them stretching on, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Despite the quiet, her mind buzzed with thoughts, the weight of the mission ahead pressing on her, yet she couldn’t shake the curiosity she felt toward her companion.

The Water Hashira was an enigma—stoic, silent, and seemingly detached from everything around him. Y/N had some rumors recently about his strength but mostly on his very cold demur from other low ranking slayers, but seeing him up close only deepened the mystery. After hours of silence, she decided to break the ice, hoping to make the journey less…awkward.

“So, Mr. Tomioka,” she began, her voice light as she tried to coax him into conversation. “Have you been on many missions like this? Where we have to be extra cautious around human authorities?”

Giyuu’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unchanging. “A few,” he replied curtly, offering nothing more.

The young girl stifled a sigh but kept her tone friendly. “I see. This is my first mission where we have to stay so hidden. It’s a little unnerving, knowing we have to avoid being seen just as much as we need to avoid the demon.”

“Mmm,” Giyuu responded, his tone indifferent as he maintained his pace, not bothering to add anything further.

Y/N felt a twinge of frustration at his lack of engagement, but she wasn’t ready to give up. After a moment of silence, she shot him a sidelong glance, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Mr. Tomioka You know, I’ve been thinking… Everyone else introduced themselves to me when we met, but you didn’t. It’s almost like you’re trying to be so mysterious.”

Giyuu’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t look at her. “I didn’t think it was necessary,” he said, his voice still flat, though there was a hint of defensiveness.

“Oh, really?” She teased, her tone light and playful. “Well, I must say, I was a little offended. Here I was, meeting the rest of the Hashira for the first time, and one of them doesn’t even bother with introductions. I started to think you didn’t like me.”

Giyuu’s steps faltered ever so slightly, the only indication that her words had reached him. He remained silent for a moment, clearly not used to such teasing. “It wasn’t personal,” he finally muttered, his voice quiet.

Y/N chuckled softly, her smile widening at his response. “I know, I’m just teasing you Mr. Tomioka, but I suppose I can forgive you. After all, you did greatly warn me about the dangers of being out so late that one night in the forest” She continued on teasing, laughing slightly.

Giyuu didn’t respond to her jest, his expression unreadable, but the young lady noticed the slight relaxation in his posture. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a small crack in the stoic facade he wore so effortlessly.

As they continued, the night deepened, and they found a secluded spot in the forest to rest. Though they both preferred to travel under the cover of darkness, seeking out any demons along the way, they needed to conserve their energy for the battles that awaited them. The city was still far, and rushing in exhausted would do them no favors.

They set up a small camp, forgoing a fire to remain undetected. Y/N sat on a fallen log, her eyes scanning the dense trees around them. She knew demons were near—they always were in places like this—but tonight had been strangely quiet.

Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes a few feet away caught her attention. She remarked and her hand instinctively flew for the hilt of her sword, but before she could act, Giyuu was already on his feet. In one fluid motion, he dashed forward, his blade cutting through the air with precision.

The demon barely had time to emerge before Giyuu’s sword sliced through it, reducing it to a heap of ashes in mere seconds. The movement was so swift, so seamless, that Y/N found herself staring in awe. He hadn’t even used his rumored Water Breathing technique—just pure skill and raw power.

“Impressive,” The young slayer commented, her voice laced with genuine admiration as Giyuu sheathed his sword.

Giyuu glanced at her, his expression still unreadable. “There is need to draw attention with breathing techniques right now,” he said simply, noting the feat as nothing out of the ordinary.

Y/N nodded, still marveling at how effortlessly he had dispatched the demon. She had yet to use her own Blood Breathing since their journey began, relying instead on her swordsmanship and instinct. It wasn’t out of necessity, but rather a shared understanding between them that using their breathing techniques would signal their presence to any lurking demons—or worse, alert any other nearby authorities they were trying to avoid.

As the night wore on, they encountered a few more demons, each more persistent than the last. Y/N held her own, dispatching them with calculated strikes and maintaining her composure even when they attacked in pairs. Giyuu, meanwhile, remained a force to be reckoned with, his every move precise and controlled.

It wasn’t long before they continued their journey, the distant lights of the nearby villages still far ahead. The road was long and filled with dangers, but Y/N found herself growing more accustomed to the silence between them. Even without conversation, there was a mutual respect forming—an understanding that, despite their differences, they were both committed to the same cause.

As the first light of dawn began to crest over the horizon, both of the slayers approached the outskirts of the bustling city. The city loomed ahead, its towering gates and bustling streets framed by distant mountains. The journey had been long, and though they had faced their share of dangers along the way, they had moved with a quiet determination, always mindful of their mission. But now, as they drew closer to their destination, a new challenge presented itself.

The city was under high alert, its gates heavily guarded by stern-faced officials, their eyes sharp and vigilant. The demon's recent rampage had left the populace on edge, and the authorities were not taking any chances. With the demon's explosive attacks wreaking havoc on the city, they would be suspicious of any strangers, especially those who might appear out of place.

The young girl glanced at her companion, her thoughts swirling with the complexities of their situation. Entering the city as Demon Slayers, adorned in their uniforms, would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention. The police force, though aware of demons, did not officially acknowledge the Demon Slayer Corps, and their presence could easily complicate matters. They needed a plan—one that would allow them to blend in and avoid unnecessary scrutiny.

"We can't just walk in wearing these," Y/N murmured, gesturing to their uniforms. "It'll raise too many questions. The city's on edge, and the last thing we need is the authorities on our backs before we even reach the demon."

Tomioka nodded, his expression serious as he scanned the surrounding area. His eyes fell on a small, bustling market set up just outside the city's gates, where vendors sold everything from fresh produce to finely woven garments. The solution presented itself almost immediately. "We should buy new attire—something that will help us blend in. And a carriage, too. We’ll need a cover story."

"A carriage?" Y/N echoed, following his gaze to the market. "You're thinking we pose as traveling vendors?"

"It’s the simplest way to avoid suspicion," Tomioka replied. "With the city on high alert, it makes sense that traders would still be allowed in. If we enter as vendors, no one will think twice about our presence."

The young lady considered this for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "That could work. Let's go find what we need."

Together, they made their way to the market. The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the stalls, the air filled with the mingling scents of fresh vegetables, roasted chestnuts, and newly spun cloth. It was a far cry from the quiet forests they had traveled through, but the young lady found comfort in the lively atmosphere. It was almost easy to forget the danger that awaited them just beyond the city walls.

They approached a vendor selling traditional clothing, and Y/N began sorting through the neatly folded kimonos, looking for something simple yet practical. She chose a dark navy kimono with a subtle pattern of swirling waves, its design understated but elegant. Giyuu selected a similar garment, though his was a muted gray with a faint hint of indigo. The fabrics were light and unassuming—perfect for their needs.

As they paid for the clothes, the slayer noticed a nearby stall offering freshly baked rice cakes and steamed buns. The vendor, an elderly woman with a kind smile, waved them over. "Are you travelers, dearies? Here, take some of these for your journey. They’re fresh from the oven."

Y/N smiled warmly at the woman, accepting the wrapped food gratefully. "Thank you, ma’am. We’ll take a few for the road. We’re heading into the city to sell some goods."

The woman’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. "Vendors, are you? What goods do you sell?"

Tomioka stepped in smoothly, his voice calm and composed. "Rare herbs and medicinal supplies. We’ve traveled far to bring them here."

"Ah, I see," the woman nodded, clearly satisfied with the explanation. "The city could use more of those with all the trouble it’s been having lately. Stay safe out there, won’t you?"

Y/N nodded, giving the woman a polite bow as she took the parcels of food. "We will. Thank you again."

With their new attire and provisions in hand, they made their way to another part of the market where carriages were for sale. Among them was a modest yet sturdy carriage, the kind once used by traveling merchants in older times. It was simple, crafted from dark wood with intricate carvings along the edges, the wheels well-worn but still reliable. It looked just inconspicuous enough to avoid drawing attention.

“This one will do,” Giyuu said, inspecting the carriage. He handed over a few small bags racked with coins to the merchant, who nodded in approval before stepping aside to allow them to take it.

As they secured the carriage, Y/N felt a strange mixture of anticipation and nerves. This mission was unlike any she had faced before, requiring not just strength and skill but cunning and adaptability. She glanced at Tomioka, who was adjusting the straps on the horse’s bridle with practiced ease. His demeanor remained as cool and collected as ever, though she could sense a subtle tension in his movements.

As they climbed into the carriage, Y/N couldn’t resist another attempt at conversation, hoping to lighten the mood. “You know,” she began, her tone casual as she settled beside him, “this is the first time I’ve ever posed as a vendor. I suppose it’s just another skill I’ll have to master as a Hashira.”

Tomioka didn’t reply immediately, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he guided the horse forward. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady. “It’s part of the job. We adapt to the situation.”

“True enough,” the young girl agreed, though she couldn’t help but smile at his straightforwardness. “Still, I hope my sales pitch is convincing enough.”

They continued in relative silence after that, the city growing closer with every passing moment. The air became thicker with the sounds of city life—people calling out to each other, the creak of wooden wheels on cobblestone streets, and the distant clanging of metal from a blacksmith’s forge.

Y/N leaned back slightly, observing the growing activity as they neared the city gates. The massive wooden doors stood tall and imposing, flanked by stern guards in traditional uniforms. Their eyes were sharp, scanning each person and cart that passed through with meticulous attention to detail.

As they approached the entrance, Y/N’s senses heightened as she prepared for any sign of trouble. The guards glanced at their carriage, eyes lingering on the goods piled neatly in the back—bundles of herbs, sacks of rice, and crates of dried medicinal plants that Y/N had carefully arranged to complete their disguise.

The lead guard, a tall man with a weathered face, stepped forward, his gaze narrowing slightly as he addressed them. “State your business.”

Tomioka responded without missing a beat, his tone calm and even. “We’re vendors, bringing in supplies for the city. Rare herbs and medicines.”

The guard’s eyes flicked between them, taking in their attire and the carriage. After a tense moment, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Be quick about your business,” he said gruffly. “And don’t cause any trouble.”

“Of course,” Y/N replied politely, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”

With that, the guards stepped aside, allowing them to pass through the gates and into the heart of the city. The streets inside were narrow and bustling, filled with people hurrying about their daily lives, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

As they moved deeper into the city, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. The destruction caused by the demon was evident in the occasional collapsed building, the air still thick with the scent of smoke and dust. But beneath it all, there was a sense of determination—a resolve among the people to rebuild and carry on, despite the danger that lurked just beyond their sight.

The carriage rattled slightly as they navigated the uneven streets, Y/N’s thoughts racing as they neared their destination. The demon was out there somewhere, hidden among the throngs of people, waiting to strike again. And when it did, they would be ready.

As they ventured deeper into the city, the bustling streets began to shift from the vibrant morning markets to the quieter, shadowed alleys of the older districts. The difference was palpable—the energy was subdued, the people more cautious as they moved about their business. The city itself seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to happen.

Tomioka guided their carriage with practiced ease, maneuvering it through the winding roads as the young girl kept a careful watch on their surroundings. They had successfully maintained their cover as traveling vendors, moving with the flow of the city without drawing undue attention. Their simple attire, combined with the unassuming nature of their carriage, allowed them to blend in seamlessly. Even the guards, alert as they were, had paid them little mind.

But beneath the surface, Y/N could feel the tension building, like the low rumble of distant thunder. The city was teetering on the edge, and she knew it wouldn’t take much to tip it over.

As they made their way through one of the older, more worn neighborhoods, she noticed a shift in the air. The buildings here were older, their wooden beams weathered and sagging slightly with age. The streets were narrower, the shadows longer, and the faces of the people they passed were lined with worry and suspicion. There was a sense of unease that clung to the area, as if something dark and sinister lurked just beneath the surface.

Y/N leaned slightly out of the carriage, scanning the surroundings. Her gaze fell on a group of men gathered near the entrance of a small, nondescript building. The structure was old, its wooden walls faded and splintered, but there was something about it that caught her attention. The men seemed tense, their conversation hushed and hurried, as if they didn’t want to be overheard.

She turned to Tomioka, lowering her voice to avoid drawing attention. “That building over there… it seems like something’s off. Those men—did you see the way they’re talking? It’s like they’re afraid of being seen.”

Tomioka glanced in the direction she indicated, his expression unreadable. “Let’s keep moving. We need more information before we act.”

The young girl nodded, understanding the caution in his words. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not when the stakes were so high. The demon they were hunting was cunning and dangerous, capable of wreaking havoc with its explosive blood demon art. They needed to gather as much intel as possible before making their move.

As they continued to weave through the city’s backstreets, she began to pick up on the subtle signs of the demon’s presence. There were whispers among the townsfolk, rumors of strange occurrences and unexplained disappearances. The closer they got to the heart of the old district, the more frequent these murmurs became.

It wasn’t long before they came across a small tea shop, its entrance nestled between two narrow alleys. The sign above the door was faded, the paint peeling, but the scent of freshly brewed tea wafted invitingly from within. The girl nudged Tomioka, and they pulled the carriage to a stop.

“Let’s go inside,” Y/N suggested. “We might hear something useful.”

Tomioka gave a slight nod in agreement, and they both dismounted from the carriage, securing it at the side of the street before entering the tea shop.

Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the tense streets outside. The air was warm and fragrant, filled with the comforting aroma of tea and herbs. The shop was small, with a few low tables scattered around the room, each accompanied by cushions for seating. The walls were lined with shelves, stocked with jars of loose-leaf tea and various dried flowers and spices.

The shopkeeper, an elderly man with a kindly face and a hunch to his back, greeted them with a polite bow. “Welcome, travelers. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Y/N and Tomioka exchanged a glance before taking a seat at one of the tables near the back of the shop. The low murmur of conversation filled the room, blending with the soft clinking of tea cups and the rustle of fabric as patrons adjusted their seats. It was the perfect setting for eavesdropping without raising suspicion.

They ordered a pot of tea, and as they waited for it to arrive, the young lady allowed her gaze to wander, taking in the details of the room. The patrons were mostly locals—men and women dressed in simple attire, their faces etched with the weariness of city life. But there was an underlying tension in the air, a quiet unease that hung over the room like a shroud.

As the shopkeeper brought their tea, Y/N overheard a conversation at a nearby table. Two men, hunched over their cups, were speaking in low, urgent tones.

“It’s been happening more and more often,” one of the men was saying, his voice barely above a whisper. “Young men, disappearing without a trace. My cousin’s son—he went out to gamble a few nights ago, and he hasn’t been seen since.”

The other man nodded grimly. “It’s that place, I tell you. The old gambling house on the edge of the district. Everyone who goes there ends up vanishing. It used to be crowded every night, but now… now people are too afraid to go.”

Y/N’s interest piqued, and she exchanged a quick glance with Tomioka. This was exactly the kind of information they had been looking for.

“Have you heard what’s been happening there?” the first man continued, his voice shaking slightly. “Some say it’s cursed. Others think it’s something worse. People are talking about… demons.”

The second man shivered. “I don’t want to believe it, but after what I’ve heard… there’s no other explanation. The place is cursed. And the authorities—they won’t do anything. They don’t want to admit there’s something they can’t control.”

Y/N’s senses sharpened. This had to be the demon’s lair—the gambling house where people were disappearing. And the fact that it was only open at night made it all the more suspicious. The demon had been preying on the city’s vulnerable, drawing in the unsuspecting with the lure of easy money and then destroying them with its explosive blood demon art.

She turned her attention back to Tomioka, her voice low and steady. “That’s our target. The gambling house. It’s only open at night, which means we’ll have to go in after dark.”

Tomioka nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “We’ll need to be careful. If the demon is as powerful as we suspect, we can’t afford to underestimate it. And we’ll have to avoid drawing the attention of the authorities—they’ll only complicate matters.”

The sun had dipped low in the sky by the time they exited the tea shop, the streets bathed in the golden light of early evening. The city was beginning to wind down, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to the quiet stillness of the night. But Y/N knew that in the shadows, the real danger was just beginning.

“We should head back to the carriage,” Tomioka said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “We’ll need to prepare for tonight.

Y/N nodded, falling into step beside him as they made their way back through the winding streets. The anticipation of the coming battle thrummed through her veins, sharpening her senses and heightening her awareness. She was ready—ready to face whatever lay ahead, ready to prove herself as a Hashira.

As Y/N and Tomioka navigated the increasingly darkened streets, the shadows seemed to deepen around them. The city’s earlier vibrancy had been replaced by an unsettling stillness, save for the distant echo of closing shutters and the occasional murmur of worried voices. The air was thick with tension, and even the usual evening chatter had fallen silent.

They were nearing the heart of the older district when they encountered an elderly man outside a small, dimly lit restaurant. The man was struggling with the heavy wooden gates, his hands moving with the practiced ease of someone who had done this task countless times before. He looked up as they approached, his expression one of mild surprise.

“What are you two doing out at this hour?” the old man called out, his voice raspy but tinged with genuine concern. “It’s dangerous to be traveling so late.”

Before the girl and her companion could respond, a loud, echoing clang reverberated through the city—the unmistakable sound of the city’s bells, their tolling signaling the start of a mandatory curfew. The old man frowned deeply, his gaze shifting to the distant sound.

“That’ll be the curfew,” he muttered, more to himself than to them. “They’ve been ringing those bells every night for the past week. Can’t say I blame them, not with those bombings happening.”

Y/N exchanged a quick glance with her companion, her brow furrowing slightly. The bombings, as the man called them, were undoubtedly the work of the demon they were hunting. But they couldn’t let on that they knew more than they should.

The old man turned back to them, his gaze shrewd. “What are you two doing out past curfew, anyway? It’s not safe to be wandering around. You’d better stay with us for the night. My wife will be happy to have some company.”

Y/N quickly shook her head, smiling politely. “Thank you for the offer, but we couldn’t impose. We’ll be fine.”

The old man raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Oh? And why is it so important that you’re out and about so late? You wouldn’t be one of those bombers, now would you?” He chuckled, clearly intending the question as a joke, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his tone.

Y/N and Giyuu both stiffened, though they tried to keep their reactions subtle. The last thing they needed was to raise suspicion in a city already on edge. Y/N quickly forced a light laugh, though it sounded a bit strained even to her own ears.

“Of course not!” she replied, her tone lighthearted. “We’re just travelers, but we’ve clearly underestimated the curfew situation here.”

The old man squinted at them, then sighed, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “Well, curfew’s curfew. No use risking it. You’ll stay with us tonight. We’ve got a little guest room that’ll do just fine.”

Before either Y/N or Giyuu could protest further, the old man gestured for them to follow him. Realizing it would be more suspicious to refuse, they reluctantly agreed, following him through the narrow alleyway that led to a small, modest home tucked away behind the restaurant.

As they stepped inside, they were greeted by the warm, comforting smell of a home-cooked meal, the soft light from a single lantern casting a gentle glow over the room. The old man’s wife, a kind-looking woman with graying hair and a welcoming smile, looked up from the table where she was setting down bowls of steaming food.

“Who do we have here, dear?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Just a couple of travelers caught out after curfew,” the old man explained. “I told them they could stay the night.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled with warmth as she approached Y/N and Giyuu. “Welcome, welcome! It’s not often we get guests around here these days. You’re welcome to make yourselves at home.”

Y/N bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you so much. We really appreciate your hospitality.”

As the old woman ushered them to sit at the table, the old man glanced between Y/N and Giyuu, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “A young couple traveling together, hmm? How romantic!”

Y/N felt herself get flustered at the implication, her eyes darting to Giyuu, who remained impassive, his expression unreadable. But she couldn’t help but notice the slight tensing of his jaw.

“We’re not—” The young girl began to protest, but the old man cut her off with a hearty laugh.

“Ah, no need to be shy!” he teased. “It’s good to see young love, even in times like these.”

Y/N felt her embarrassment deepen, but she forced a smile, trying to play along. “It’s nothing like that.”

Giyuu, for his part, simply nodded politely, clearly not interested in correcting the old man’s assumption. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or simply indifferent, but she decided not to push it. There were more important things to focus on.

The old couple continued to chat with them as they ate, their conversation light and filled with stories of the city’s past. Y/N found herself relaxing slightly in their presence, though she never let her guard down completely. The night was still young, and the mission ahead was fraught with danger.

As the meal drew to a close, the old woman showed them to the small guest room at the back of the house. It was modest, with just a single futon and a small window that looked out onto the quiet street. Y/N thanked her again before the couple left them alone.

As soon as the door closed, Y/N let out a soft sigh, finally allowing herself to relax for a moment. She glanced over at Giyuu, who was already checking the room, his movements precise and efficient.

The young slayer let out a soft sigh, settling onto the futon. “Looks like we’re stuck here until morning,” she murmured, trying to mask her frustration.

But her partner shook his head, his gaze sharp. “We’re not waiting until morning. We’ll sneak out and head to the gambling house.”

Y/N blinked. “Won’t that make it more suspicious to the elder couple? If they find out we’re gone…”

“They won’t,” Giyuu interrupted, his voice calm and steady. “We’ll be back before dawn. We just have to be fast and kill the demon before then.”

The young lady hesitated for only a moment before nodding. There was no time to waste. Silently, they both rose, moving with the practiced ease of seasoned warriors. Their Hashira training made slipping out of the house without a sound effortless. In moments, they were outside, the cool night air brushing against their skin as they retrieved their swords, leaving their uniforms behind to maintain their cover.

They moved quickly, their feet barely touching the ground as they sped across the rooftops, silent as shadows. The city below was eerily quiet, the curfew keeping the streets deserted. But the stillness only heightened their senses, every noise and movement scrutinized as they made their way toward the gambling house.

The building came into view, its dimly lit entrance and faded signage a stark contrast to the bustling nightlife it once hosted. Y/N and Tomioka paused on the roof opposite, taking a moment to observe. The house was old, its wooden structure creaking in the night, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible hum of activity inside. This was their target’s lair.

With a silent nod to each other, they descended, landing lightly at the entrance. They adjusted their disguises, ensuring they looked the part of weary travelers seeking some entertainment before stepping inside.

Both of the slayers stepped through the weathered doors of the gambling house, and immediately, the atmosphere shifted. Despite the eerie quiet that had fallen over the city outside, the interior was alive with activity. The room was spacious, adorned with the warm glow of red lanterns that cast an almost dreamlike hue over the polished wooden floors and tatami mats. The scent of incense mingled with the sharp odor of alcohol, creating a heady mixture that clung to the air.

The gambling house was a stark contrast to the desolate streets outside, bustling with energy and life. Men, mostly young and brash, crowded around low tables where dice were cast, and cards were shuffled with quick, practiced hands. Their laughter and voices mingled into a loud, chaotic symphony that filled the room. It was clear that these were the city’s youth, wasting their nights and money in a desperate bid to stave off the darkness outside.

Scattered among them were a few women, their vibrant kimonos and painted faces a sharp contrast to the men’s worn attire. But it was the men who dominated the space, their flushed faces and drunken grins evidence of too much sake and too little sense.

As they both entered, their presence immediately drew attention. Y/N felt eyes on her, a few of the young men leering openly as she passed. The attention made her uncomfortable, the leers and whispered comments causing her to stiffen. A group of particularly bold men, their breath heavy with alcohol, stumbled forward, one of them reaching out as if to touch her.

“Oi, pretty lady! Why don’t you join us?” one of them slurred, his words barely coherent.

The girl’s discomfort was quickly replaced by a flash of irritation, but before she could respond, Giyuu stepped forward. His presence, usually so quiet and unobtrusive, suddenly became imposing. The cold, sharp look in his eyes was enough to send a chill down the spine of the drunken men.

“Back off,” Giyuu said, his voice low and deadly serious.

The men hesitated, the alcohol clouding their judgment for only a moment longer before they seemed to recognize the threat standing before them. They quickly backed away, muttering apologies as they slunk back to their games, their bravado fading under Tomioka’s sharp gaze.

Y/N shot Tomioka a grateful glance, though he only nodded slightly in acknowledgment before they continued deeper into the gambling house. They both knew better than to let their guard down; the demon was somewhere in this lively, chaotic mess.

They moved through the crowd, carefully scanning the faces of the gamblers and patrons, searching for any sign of the demon’s presence. The noise of the room seemed to pulse around them, but both Y/N and her companion on this mission remained focused, every sense alert.

As they navigated the maze of tables and bustling bodies, they began to subtly separate, each taking a different path through the room. Y/N’s eyes darted from face to face, noting the shadows and angles, the way the red lanterns flickered and played tricks with the light. She knew the demon could be anyone here—hiding in plain sight, blending into the chaos.

Tomioka, on the other side of the room, was just as vigilant, his movements precise and controlled as he examined the scene. They moved like two predators in the night, their senses tuned to the slightest anomaly, the smallest hint that their prey was near.

The girl moved quietly through the winding hallways of the gambling house, her senses alert despite the lively atmosphere just beyond the walls. The further they ventured, the dimmer the lights became, the noise of the main room fading into a distant hum. Eventually, she reached a door slightly ajar, revealing what appeared to be an office space. Papers were strewn across a low desk, and the room smelled faintly of ink and tobacco. This must be where the business side of the gambling house was managed.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. But before she could investigate further, the hair on the back of her neck prickled—an instinctual warning honed by years of fighting demons. They turned just in time to see a man step into the doorway, his presence eerily quiet, almost unnatural in its suddenness.

The slayer’s suspicion flared, but she forced herself to stay calm, masking her unease with a friendly demeanor. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, her tone light, as if she hadn’t just been caught snooping around. “I was looking for the owner of this lively place. I’m hoping to discuss some business opportunities.”

The man, who was tall and thin with an unnervingly placid expression, watched her for a moment too long before finally speaking. “The owner? That would be me,” he said, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something darker. “I’m the one in charge of this establishment.”

“Ah, perfect timing then. I was hoping to discuss a partnership, perhaps an investment opportunity.”

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still unreadable. “Why don’t we discuss this somewhere more private?” He gestured for her to follow, leading her deeper into the building.

The corridor they entered was poorly lit, the shadows thickening as they walked further from the main hall.

Y/N kept her pace measured, though every step heightened her wariness.

Finally, they reached a small room at the end of the corridor. The man held the door open for her, his smile never reaching his eyes. “After you,” he said, his voice dripping with false politeness.

Y/N entered the room, taking in the sparse furnishings and the flickering candle that offered the only light. She turned to face the man, her muscles tensing as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Before she could react, the man’s demeanor shifted, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and oily, “I think we could work something out… something a bit more intimate.”

Y/N’s eyes darkened with anger. In one swift movement, she gripped his hand and twisted, throwing him across the room with a force that belied her slender frame. The man hit the wall with a dull thud, his body crumpling to the floor. But before she could make another move, she felt a presence behind her—silent, predatory.

A cold hand clamped around her wrist, pulling her back with unnatural strength. Y/N spun, coming face to face with the demon. Its eyes gleamed in the dim light, a twisted smile spreading across its face as it realized she had caught on to its identity.

“So, you’ve figured it out,” the demon hissed, its voice now a low, mocking growl.

The girl didn’t waste a second. She wrenched her wrist free, the demon’s grip surprisingly strong, and dashed toward the door. The demon snarled, lashing out with a speed that barely gave her time to dodge. Its attack missed her by inches, smashing into the wall and sending splinters of wood flying through the air. The sheer force of the strike confirmed what Y/N had suspected—this demon possessed a devastating explosive power that had likely caused the destruction in the city.

Y/N’s heart raced as she bolted from the room, her one goal to retrieve her sword, which she had left outside to avoid raising suspicion. Without it, she couldn’t decapitate the demon, and any fight would be futile.

Behind her, the demon’s footsteps echoed through the corridor, its fury palpable as it gave chase. Y/N darted through the hallways, her mind racing as she tried to recall the path back to the exit. The demon was close behind, its anger manifesting in bursts of raw, destructive energy that splintered the walls around her.

Finally, she spotted the exit, the faint light of the street just beyond the door. She burst through it, her lungs burning as she sprinted toward where she had stashed her sword. The demon’s rage was palpable, and she could hear it tearing through the building, its frustration growing as she evaded its grasp.

Y/N reached the spot where her sword lay hidden, her fingers closing around the familiar hilt. She spun around, her eyes locking onto the demon as it burst from the doorway, its form twisted with fury.

Y/N's grip tightened on her sword as she faced the demon, its eyes burning with fury as it charged at her with reckless abandon. She could feel the weight of the city behind her, the lives of countless innocents depending on her and Giyuu to stop this creature before it unleashed more destruction.

The demon's claws slashed through the air, but Y/ N was faster. She sidestepped, her movements precise and fluid, and retaliated with a quick slash aimed at the demon's torso. The demon twisted to avoid the strike, but not fast enough—her blade grazed its side, drawing black blood.

Just as the demon snarled in pain, Giyuu appeared from the shadows, his movements as smooth as water. He caught YIN's eye, and in that brief exchange, they communicated wordlessly, forming a plan. They had to corner the demon, keep it from using its explosive power to destroy the city or harm any of the civilians nearby.

Giyuu moved first, his sword flowing with the grace of a river as he executed Water Breathing: Seventh Form - Drop Ripple Thrust, Curve. His attack was perfectly timed, aimed to force the demon back toward Y/N. The demon recoiled from the strike, barely managing to avoid the sharp edge of Giyuu's blade, only to find itself trapped between the two Hashira.

With the demon momentarily disoriented, Y/N unleashed her own technique, her blade glowing with a deep crimson hue. "Blood Breathing: Second Form - Scarlet Mirage!" she called out, her sword slicing through the air.

The technique created a series of rapid, blood-red slashes that blurred before the demon's eyes, disorienting it further as it tried to keep track of her movements.

The demon snarled in frustration, its claws digging into the ground as it prepared to unleash another powerful attack.

But Tomioka was ready, his stance calm and unyielding as he drew on his own strength. With a swift motion, he performed Water Breathing: Fourth Form - Striking Tide, a series of flowing, consecutive strikes that aimed to contain the demon, minimizing its ability to unleash any explosive damage.

Y/N followed up immediately, her movements a dance of deadly precision. She darted in, her sword glinting in the dim light as she executed her next move. "Blood Breathing: Fifth Form - Crimson Bloom!" Her blade moved in a spiraling motion, leaving a trail of blood-red energy in its wake as it closed in on the demon's vulnerable neck.

The demon, now fully cornered, lashed out in desperation, but Tomioka and his companion moved in perfect synchrony.

Giyuu deflected the demon's claws with a final Water Breathing: Second Form - Water Wheel, while the girl closed in for the kill. In one swift motion, she brought her sword down, her blade severing the demon's head cleanly from its body.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

The demon's body crumpled to the ground, its head rolling away before disintegrating into ash. The city around them was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant echoes of the citizens who had no idea how close they had come to disaster.

The young girl stood still, her breath steady as she sheathed her sword, not a scratch on her. Glyuu did the same, his eyes meeting hers in a silent acknowledgment of their success. Despite their different styles, their teamwork had been flawless.

As the demon's ashes scattered into the night, they both knew that the city was safe-for now.

The mission was complete.

As the last echoes of the battle faded, the quiet night of the city was abruptly broken. Doors creaked open, and footsteps shuffled out onto the streets. Citizens, startled and bewildered, emerged from their homes and gambling dens, shaking off the stupor of drink and confusion.

Their eyes widened as they took in the scene—the lingering traces of demon blood on the streets, the slight tremor of destroyed wood and stone where the demon had unleashed its explosive demon art, though thankfully contained by Giyuu's swift intervention.

The once-rowdy gambling den had gone silent, save for the murmurs of the shaken gamblers. The few sober enough to comprehend the chaos looked around in bewilderment, while the drunk ones tried to piece together the fragments of their shattered night.

Faces, once flushed with the thrill of betting, now turned pale as the reality of what had transpired dawned upon them.

The city bells rang out, louder and more frantic than before, signaling a call to arms. The authorities, alerted by the noise and the tremors, were swiftly mobilizing.

The distant clatter of armor and the shouts of orders echoed through the streets as the police prepared to investigate the disturbance.

Sensing the urgency of the situation, Y/N and Giyuu exchanged a brief glance. There was no time to waste. They moved in unison, slipping away from the scene with the fluidity and speed that only Hashira possessed.

In a matter of moments, they were mere shadows in the night, their presence erased from the minds of those who had witnessed the chaos.

With practiced ease, they navigated the rooftops and narrow alleys, making their way back to the old man's house. Their movements were silent, a stark contrast to the earlier commotion. As they approached the house, they ensured that not a single sound betrayed their arrival. The night, once again, fell into an eerie stillness.

Inside the old man's house, the warmth and coziness of the modest home provided a stark contrast to the cold, tension-filled night outside. Y/N and Giyuu settled into the small room they had been given, the weight of their recent mission still lingering in the air. Though they were far from physically exhausted, the social toll of the evening was evident. Their energy was spent, not from battle, but from the constant vigilance and unspoken understanding that had passed between them during the fight.

As the night deepened and the quiet of the house settled in, the realization dawned on both Y/N and Giyuu that there was only one bed available for them to rest in.

Giyuu, ever vigilant, immediately offered to stay on guard for the night, insisting that he wasn't tired. Y/N, equally drained but not in the physical sense, suggested they could take turns or, better yet, she could keep watch.

"You should rest," she urged softly, noting the slight tension in Tomioka’s posture. "I’m not tired either, and I can manage a few hours on watch."

“…I’m fine," he finally responded, his voice even but firm.

The young girl sensing his resolve, didn't press further but instead moved closer to the small light that flickered in the room, trying to dispel the lingering tension. She didn't want to force him, yet she knew he needed rest, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

As she considered what to do next, her eyes caught a glimpse of something unusual—a small, charred spot on the sleeve of Giyuu’s haori, where the fabric had been slightly burnt away.

"You're hurt," Y/N said, her voice soft but insistent as she reached out to touch his arm gently.

Giyuu looked down, as if only just realizing the injury. "It's nothing," he murmured, brushing it off as unimportant.

Y/N, however, was not so easily swayed. "Let me help." Her tone left no room for argument as she moved closer, her fingers gently tracing the burnt edges of the fabric. She had noticed the burn earlier, but now that they were in a moment of quiet, she couldn’t let it go untreated.

Before Giyuu could protest, Y/N summoned her blood breathing, her hand glowing with a soft crimson light as she focused her energy on healing the burn. The blood cells within the wound responded to her control, rapidly mending the damaged tissue.

As the burn slowly faded, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the closeness between them—his steady breathing, the warmth of his skin under her touch, the way the dim light seemed to soften his usually stoic expression.

Giyuu’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched her work, the tension between them palpable in the quiet room. Y/N felt it too, a strange mix of emotions that she couldn’t quite name. The silence stretched out, filled only with the soft sound of her breathing and the gentle hum of her technique.

Finally, the wound was healed, and Y/N withdrew her hand, the glow fading from her fingers. "There," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "That should do it."

Giyuu's gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment longer before he spoke, his voice low and curious. "How can you do that?"

Y/N looked at him, her expression softening as she considered how to explain it. "It’s a bit complicated," she admitted, sitting down beside him. "My blood breathing… it actually stems from water breathing."

Tomioka’s eyebrows raised slightly. "Water breathing?" he echoed, the connection between their techniques piquing his interest.

She nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I never mastered water breathing the way you have," she said, her tone warm with genuine admiration. "You’re incredible with it, Mr. Tomioka. Your technique is flawless, so fluid and powerful. I always aspired to reach that level, but I could never quite get there."

Giyuu remained silent, listening intently as she continued.

"One day, during a battle," she continued, her voice growing quieter as she recalled the memory, "I was losing… badly. I was injured, bleeding more than I could handle. I thought it was the end, but then… something changed. I felt this surge of power, of control, and in a desperate moment, I used my blood to attack. It was like water—fluid, adaptable—but it was mine, born from my own desperation and will to survive. That's how I created blood breathing."

She paused, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the healed wound on his arm.

"It wasn’t easy, though. Manipulating my blood, and sometimes even others' blood, takes a toll. It drains a lot of my energy, and it has some pretty nasty aftereffects. But… it can be useful, like for healing minor injuries."

“it’s impressive," he finally said, his voice carrying a hint of something deeper, perhaps respect or understanding. "You found a way to survive, and you turned it into something powerful."

Y/N’s smile widened, a touch of gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you," she replied softly. "But it comes with a price. After using it, I need time to recover. That’s why I try not to rely on it too much, unless I really have to."

Giyuu nodded, his gaze shifting to the quiet night outside. "Still, it’s a gift," he said, almost as if to himself. "And you’re using it to protect others. That’s what matters."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her at his words, however she couldn’t help noticing the spark or sadness reflected on Tomioka’s eyes as he said those words to her. There was something about the way he spoke—quiet, measured, but with a hint of there being more to him—that resonated with her. For a moment, the weight of the world outside their small room seemed to lift, leaving only the two of them in the peaceful silence.

"Maybe," Y/N mused, "that’s why we’re here together. Water and blood, they’re not so different, are they?"

As Y/N had finished healing the burn on Giyuu's arm, she found herself tracing the lines of his hand absentmindedly. Her fingers lingered on his skin, even though the wound had already closed, the flesh now smooth and unmarked. It was a simple, thoughtless action—a way to ensure her work was complete, but one that neither of them expected.

Tomioka had yet to notice it at first. But when he felt her fingers softly brushing against his hand once again, he snapped back to reality. His gaze shifted to their hands, the unexpected touch jarring him from his thoughts.

Without hesitation, he pulled his hand back sharply, the motion sudden and definitive. The connection between them—whatever it was—was severed as quickly as it had formed.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone neutral and controlled. “You should rest now. I’ll stay on guard.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his abruptness. The shift in his demeanor was like a bucket of cold water, and she quickly withdrew her own hand. She nodded, trying to suppress the slight embarrassment creeping in. “I…Alright.”

His words were final, leaving no room for further discussion. Therefore, Y/N swallowed and simply went along, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. She had crossed a line, let herself relax too much around someone she barely knew.

She turned away from him, lying down on the bed with her back facing him. The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with the unspoken awkwardness of their interaction.

As Y/N lay there, she tried to push away the discomfort gnawing at her. The presence of Tomioka behind her, though calm and collected, felt distant—an unfamiliar presence that only added to the tension. It was clear they were both here for the mission, nothing more, and she had to remind herself of that. There was no need for unnecessary familiarity.

Focusing on her breathing, she tried to will herself to sleep, forcing her mind to quiet down. There was no point in dwelling on what had happened. They were both professionals, after all, and this was just another step in their shared duty.

To be continued….

a/n: hope y’all enjoy!!!!! take care of yourselves <3

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