#who knows when has he last washed that haori

[thatdawgx]

Based on my last post I mentioned how often this fandom sees giyuu as more feminine than sanemi which is pretty weird due to fact he is barely feminine? Like what is feminine abt him? His long hair which he literally cuts short in the end?? Maybe due to fact he is more "elegant" than sanemi might seem that he is more feminine but from what stuff I found abt sanemi's character is the fact he has a lot of feminine characteristics from his name to his backstory and even stuff he eats

sanemi's name might be considered feminine due to fact most japanese names that end with -suffix mi are often female names or the fact you can take out this kanji meaning increasingly, all the more 弥 (he shares this kanji with genya but they are read differently) out of sanemi's name 実弥 and put this kanji 美 (this kanji is also used in sanemis younger sister's name sumi) meaning beauty, beautiful, pretty and is spelled the same way the mi part in sanemi's name

I mentioned his favorite food being feminine why? It's due to fact liking sweets in japan as a man is considered to be childish and a feminine thing

His backstory in general is in many people's words oldest daughter coded due to fact sanemi help his mother with raising his little siblings and had to cook and clean for them or even having to get a job at an young age. Due to fact his mother was often pregnant he probably had to be the one who did the most housework

When it comes to his appearance sanemi is often said to have his mother's kind smile that all of his siblings really liked. He obviously has long eyelashes and he in general has chuubier cheeks. It was also mentioned in the story how he smells like ohagi and matcha. He most likely takes after his mother's height and I can already hear people going "But he is only one cm shorter than his brother" first of, men stop growing at 21, the fact genya is already taller than sanemi while being 16 means he still has room for more, secondly we already know how in most anime and manga heights are not done well, like there is a panel where genya looks taller than sanemi atleast for 5-6 cm so either sanemi or genya are lying about their height. Last thing which ufotable has stolen from us is sanemi's pinkish hair in manga, like yeah pink wasn't considered a feminine colour in that time period but now it is so I had to mention it

Also sanemi is often described as an kind and bashful person in the manga by multiple people in the story like c'mon people, why is he often written as an aggressive macho dude in most fics I'm tiredd

[kunikuyu]

"A reward for someone so good." Hashira Series!

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Gyomei Himejima x Male! Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, NSFW, read as afab reader, size kink, "calm" sex, faint, belly bulge, Himejima has feelings for the reader.

Summary: Pillar training has begun, much to your delight. Of course, as a hard-working and strong person, you can handle any challenge. Even if it's fighting a hashira. And in a way, they all see some value in you, and want to reward you for it.

You decided you would trust Sanemi (in which case, you were too tired to try and cut the ropes). You slept on the floor of that room and were woken up by someone mumbling while untying you.

"Ah, you finally decided to wake up? Lazy bastard." And you just shrug. If Sanemi wasn't going to untie you, you'd probably stay there until you gathered the strength to do it yourself.

Shinazugawa finally lets you go, but you can't walk at the moment. "..." He stares at you, hoping you'll get up soon. "You haven't realized my situation yet, have you?"

"I won't carry you in my arms, don't you dare ask."

....

You didn't even have to ask. He picked you up willingly and covered you with his haori (which only covered the bottom part due to your height). Fortunately, no one saw you in this situation.

Sanemi carries you to the room and offers you new clothes, next to a hot bath since you were covered in blood. He seems to want to apologize for being too rough last night, but he's too proud for that.

This is how he shows that in a way, he cares for you. Genya came to see you after your shower, and he seemed very curious to know why you disappeared last night and are now in Sanemi's room. You just laugh softly.

After some small talk and some things about the upcoming training and about Gyomei, Genya and Sanemi accompany you to the gate. You were already more recovered, and could probably get to Gyomei's training area with ease.

Genya says goodbye to you with a handshake and quickly leaves. Sanemi would finally apologize to you. "... Sorry for yesterday." "It's okay. Just make sure you don't leave me tied up next time." And so, you walked away while following your crow.

"Wait... WILL THERE BE A NEXT TIME?!" The older Shinazugawa screams and tries to reach you, but trips on a rock and ends up falling.

......

You finally arrived at Gyomei's training area. The few people who made it past Sanemi's training looked washed up. Himejima's training was very heavy, just like Genya said.

A hand subtly touches your shoulder, and you immediately recognize who the person is. "Himejima-san!" You smile, and the man almost twice your height smiles back. You weren't exactly short, but Gyomei was almost a tree, he was so tall.

"[Name], long time I haven't seen you. Namu." He says, voice deep as he rubs his hands together. The bulging veins on his arms made you blush softly. Maybe you have a thing for muscular men. And speaking of which, you've done a lot of missions together. It was almost a trio. Genya, Gyomei and you (since Tomioka stayed away from you in the past).

For a few seconds you wondered how Himejima knew it was you. But he's like a bear, his senses are extremely keen. "So, what's the training like?" Even though you already had an idea, you still wanted to be sure of what you were going to face.

"Your training is unique, please follow me. Namu."

.....

You obey the Hashira, and soon, you arrive at his mansion. It was very similar to all the others, except it felt more warm and comfortable. "Please sit."

Gyomei takes you to the farthest corner of the house, and sits in front of you. The difference in size was brutal even when he was sitting down.

He holds your hand gently and sighs, preparing to say something unusual. "Sr. [Name], I would like you to have sex with me. Not only that, but I propose that this be your test of strength." He was so straight to the point that it scared you.

Okay, you knew that was his personality. But it was on a much higher level. Seeing that you didn't answer him, but didn't move away either, he continues what he was saying. "On every mission we've done, I've felt something for you that I never thought I'd feel for a man. You are kind and pure, despite your personality being somewhat eccentric."

You had no words for it. You were normally the one praising people, and now you were being praised in such a kind way. You just squeeze Himejima's hand, as your body moves closer to him.

"...I accept this training, Himejima-san."

.....

He takes off all of his necklaces, and starts to unbuckle his belt. Before he even took off his pants, you noticed that his cock was already hard as a rock.

And when he took off his pants, you almost fainted. Seriously, your blood pressure has really dropped. That thing was huge, probably 44 centimeters. That wasn't even humanly possible! Now you're not sure if you agree with this training.

Himejima senses your concern, and quickly reassures you. "If you can't take it, I won't force you." And you just make a mumble of "ok"

He takes off his pants, and pats his hand gently on his thigh, to signal that he was ready. You quickly take off your pants too, and crawl until you are face to face with that monstrosity. It was quite heavy, and his balls felt swollen, as if it were waiting to release their load.

You try to sit on Gyomei's lap, placing the man's cock in your pussy. But it was almost an impossible task, it was too big. Only the head had entered and you already felt full. He throws his head back and lets out some low, hoarse moans, already feeling pleasure just from having contact with your body.

Little by little, you get used to the new sensation, and Gyomei's cock starts to slide inside you. Soon, (almost) everything was inside you, and you were already sitting on Gyomei's lap. He let out much louder, but still discreet, moans as he hugged your body. Your belly was swollen, and you could be sure that that bulge was the perfect shape of Gyomei's cock.

You massage that bulge and squeeze gently, making you and the other man moan again. He didn't seem to care if you weren't moving, he just wanted contact with you.

But you wanted to move, you wanted to go after your own pleasure. And so, you began to lightly move back and forth, riding the taller man. He starts to sigh deeply and moan some meaningless words, while you bite your mouth to keep from screaming. Every slightest movement you make makes his member hit your sweet spot.

Until he decides to help you with your movements. His hands held your ass, and without any difficulty, he made you move up and down gently on his slippery cock. That was as far as you could go without moaning loudly.

You just put your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming while he fucks you. "H-Himejima...Ah!~" It's all you can say, because you were almost screaming.

And this goes on for a few minutes. He makes calm movements with his body as he reaches the deepest point he could reach. You were already close to passing out, it was too much to handle and every time he hit your sweet spot, you could feel your blood pressure dropping.

"... [Name]-san... I feel like I'm about to..." You widen your eyes, already understanding what he meant. And it only took a few seconds for him to release his load inside you. As soon as his cum hit your deepest point in a warm jet, you passed out.

There was a lot of cum, it was even leaking and causing a bigger swelling in your belly. He notices your body going limp, and pulls you off his dick. He wasn't that experienced in having sex, but he felt like he shouldn't have such extreme concern, just take care of you and your body while you were passed out.

And so he does, giving you a bath, putting on clean clothes and lying next to you in bed, hugging you in a bear hug.

He was really happy with everything that happened. He really likes you, and sex only confirmed his feelings.

Bonus lines!

"I really love you, [Name]-san. We should get married, I want you to be my husband."

"... I see..."

[vagabond-umlaut]

skew lines

a pair of lines which neither intersect nor run parallel to each other

▸ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader; word count: 4k ▸ alternate universe: reincarnation; alternate universe: soulmates; multiple lives; fluff; drama; angst with a hopeful (happy) ending. ▸ content warnings: character death, non-graphic suicide, brief mention of infidelity, implied domestic violence, panic attack, indirect reference to the Holocaust of WWII. ▸ read this on ao3 instead! :))

▸ please read the warnings carefully before proceeding to the story! ▸ sincerest apologies for any inadvertent inaccuracy. no disrespect intended towards anyone, least of all towards those who had to face gruesome events in their lives. ▸ many thanks to @pupkashi, @mimiriko, @guccirosegold, @silkylious and @missmeinyourbones for your lovely suggestions, comments and support!!!! ❤️❤️ ▸ i don't own characters, gif or divider. please don't plagiarize/translate/repost this.

ONE: KAMAKURA; 1262  

“A lady must never dream,” Your mother says as she places the wataboshi atop your head, “She must only ever fulfil her duties to her family, silently and obediently.” 

An errant tear rolls past your cheek, washing away the make-up and hours of your maids’ efforts with it. Your mother, however, pays that no mind and raising you from your seat, leads you out of your quarters. 

As you walk beside her, you wonder... Were you from a humbler origin... Were you not from one of the Big Three Clans, would life have been different? Would you have been freer? Happier? Or would you still have to walk into a union, knowing full well widowhood awaits you by the next sunrise?  

A mangled sob falls past your lips, and you turn to your mother with a pleading gaze.  

“Please, mother, I can’t do this,” You clasp her hands in yours, entreating her in a broken whisper, “I can’t do what you asked me to do. Ask me to not marry him, ask me to retire from all this to a nunnery – I shall do so in a heartbeat. I will never question you. But please, mother, I- Brother!?”  

Yanking you away from your mother, your brother drags you by the arm across the courtyard, then stops a foot away from the shrine, his eyes narrowed into slits as he glowers down at you.  

“Listen, girl,” He seethes, and you wince from the painful grip he has on your arm, “You’re a Zen’in. You’ve been fed, dressed and kept alive by us, Zen’ins, for the last two decades. Not by that sick idiot inside, you fell in love with, like the disloyal bastard you’re. So, you better shut up and pay us your thanks, yeah?” 

You nod, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.  

If your family wants you to pay them your thanks, you will do so – you decide, while your brother barks at the maids to reapply your make-up before you enter the shrine – just not the way they expect you to.  

Hours later, a small smile lines your lips as your husband enters the room. In a black haori and hakama, the daimyo resembles a deity amongst a sea of mortals – which he probably is, you muse, if the whispers on his prowess in war and court are anything to go by.  

 “You’re staring, wife,” An amused chuckle draws you from your thoughts.  

You give a timid smile back, “You’re too handsome to not be stared at, husband.”  

Surprise flitters across your husband’s features, soon followed by an understanding grin.  

You realize he must have seen the empty cups behind your back.  

“Did you finish the sake your brother gifted us, all by yourself, darling? Thought you weren’t a big fan of alcohol?” 

“’m not,” You answer meekly, averting your gaze from his crystalline blue, “Still, I drank.” 

“And may I know why, darling?” Chuckling, the daimyo pulls you into his lap and nuzzles into the crook of your neck – then pulls away when a harsh cough racks through your body. Blood at the corner of your lips, you run a trembling hand through his soft white locks, the fondness in your dying eyes contrasting the shock in his. 

“I want you to live, that’s why.” 

TWO: HOKKAIDO; 1966 

“I want you to live, that’s why.” 

A tired yawn leaves your lips as you throw the blankets off and pad over to the open window, that singular statement still pestering you from your dreams – or, should you say, nightmares. 

Tormenting you for three months now, they have always ended the same – you whispering those words, time and time again, a grim relief settling in your bones as your eyes finally shut, prey to an eternal slumber – until they open again, onto the blood-red digits of your alarm clock. 

Initially, you had ignored them, treating them as figments of your imagination – a side-effect, you had supposed then, of watching sad historical romances. However, when the dreams began to recur and blur into a single overarching theme – love, death, love, death – it was then that you finally decided to consult a professional. 

“A long vacation to Hokkaido is what you need, you workaholic idiot,” You recollect your psychiatrist friend insisting last Friday at your weekly dinner together. “A relaxing bath in the hot springs, a thrilling ski down the steep snowy slopes – and who knows, you might even find a cute man who can keep those dreams away,” She had trailed off with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, which had earned her a pillow in the face.  

Another tired yawn escapes into the chilling night air and you realize how utterly, totally wrong she was.  

Sure, the hot springs are relaxing enough, the snowy slopes are steep enough, the men too are cute enough, still… your dreams seem to have worsened since your arrival here. In fact– Bang! 

Startled, you turn around at the sound – when, out of nowhere, a slender hand pushes you into the wall – and the scream in your throat withers away at the sight before.  

Hair as white as the snow falling outside, eyes as blue as the ocean you’ve grown beside, features eerily translucent yet eerily familiar...  

“Who are you?” Disregarding the warning bells chiming in your brain, the question tumbles past your lips in a soft whisper. 

A long second passes before you receive a reply.  

“No one nice,” The figure finally whispers back, and you bite back a gasp when their frigid fingers dance across your bare arms, “But tonight I can be yours, darling, if you want.”  

You let your fingers tangle in their messy white hair and pull them in for a kiss.  

(Years later, you’ll agree with a laugh, you had indeed acted like a moron in the face of a (definitely paranormal) intruder in your room.) 

(Years later, you’ll also share a quiet look with your friend after such discussions – for she and you alone, will know how much your lover from that night resembled your lover from that dream.)

 THREE: NEW ORLEANS; 1884 

“What do you mean by ‘No,’ girl?” 

Your brother huddles closer to you – out of cold or fear, you’re not quite sure. Pushing him behind, you attempt reason another time, “Exactly what you understood, Sir. You see, I’m not that kind of woman. I-” 

“Nonsense! You are all sluts,” The man roars and lunges forwards at you – only to drop dead an instant later. A frown twists your painted lips as you return the gun to your purse – which deepens when you catch the toddler’s dumbstruck gaze alternate between you and behind you.   

Of fucking course, there had to be a witness.  

“To be fair, he was the one who attacked first,” You state, whirling around with your gun raised, “And to be safe, I don’t really mind having another’s blood on my hands.”  

An amused snicker rings through the stale evening air and you feel your muscles tauten in dread. Years of fending for the two of you have taught you to know a predator when you hear one.  

“Or, you could join me, y’know?” 

That doesn’t mean you’ll scamper away like a meek doe at its first growl, though.  

“As what? Some side-hoe?” A mirthless laughter bubbles up your throat and you shake your head lightly, “No, thanks. I’ll pass.” 

A beat passes in tense silence, before the man steps forward into the lamp’s dim light – and you drag your brother closer to yourself, covering his eyes with a palm, whilst your own widen in recognition.  

Silky white hair, crystalline blue eyes, ridiculously tall and handsome – the Boss returns your stunned expression with an even smirk, “And if I ask you to be my partner, what’ll you say? Will you still pass it?” 

“I…” You glance at the child beside you – his skinny figure, ratty clothes, unkempt pink hair, guileless features – and back at the man who stares at you expectantly. A tendril of disgust unfurls in you as you imagine the crimes the sleazy scoundrel before you might have committed. 

“Yes, I’ll pass it,” You answer with an indignant glint in your gaze, “I don’t want my brother to grow in a horrible world like yours.” 

“Not even if you get enough money to raise the kid into a proper gentleman?” 

“Are you trying to fucking buy me!?!?” You snarl at him, taking a menacing step forward – then stop when you feel a little tug on your dress.  

Your hand removed from his eyes, you find your brother peering up at you worriedly.  

Taking a deep breath in, you give the toddler a reassuring smile, and lifting him into your arms, turn to the man with a sharp grin.  

“He doesn’t need your foul money to grow into a proper gentleman. He’ll anyways be one.” 

“As you wish, darling,” The Boss hums with a faint smile at your words, and casting you one last long look, recedes into the shadows he appeared from.  

A month later, you hear the man drove his car off the edge of a cliff.  

“He drank himself to death after being rejected,” Your co-worker tells you on the way to the bar. You only frown in response.  

Feeling oddly bereft, you cancel your shows and head home early that evening.

 FOUR: NEW LONDON; 2628 

“Get out. Now.” 

Reducing your auditory levels to a bare minimum, you continue folding the clothes.  

You know you shouldn’t be bothered.   

You are a mere housekeeping robot Mistress bought online a year ago.  

Your only purpose is keeping the house clean and going on the odd errand or two – not worrying your circuits off for Mistress, every time voices are raised or things are thrown to the ground.  

Still… your wired heart can’t help but twist when you hear the front door slam shut and a pair of bruised arms wrap around you. “I was right,” Your receptors detect a choked whisper, “Twelve years of marriage and he has another woman in his life. Guess I’m that unlovable, huh?”  

Desperately wanting to deny, you emit a rapid series of beeps, nudging your Mistress to look at the wall opposite – and project your first picture with her there. 

In the picture, Mistress is crouched beside you, blue eyes crinkled in a grin while her long white hair flutters in the breeze. On her other side is her friend, a blond man, a polite smile on his face as he looks at the camera.  

(The day it was captured is still as green as the neo-grass you water every morning in the lawns.  

It was your Mistress’ thirtieth birthday that day – although no indication of the same could be found anywhere in the house. Master had left for work at sharp 7 in the morning, Mistress had secluded herself in her home office an hour later and you were tidying the house – as usual.  

With the breakfast over, you were in the middle of returning the dishes to the drawers when the front bell rang. More than a little peeved at being interrupted during your chores, you let the door open after the second ring – to Mistress’ friend waiting with a huge box and balloons in his hands.  

It was only when he hugged your mistress and wished her ‘Happy Birthday,’ that the metaphorical bulb lit up in your processing unit – and you let out a chitter in fear – FOR HOW COULD A TOP-CLASS HOUSEKEEPING ROBOT FORGET AN IMPORTANT OCCASION AS THIS!?!? - only to earn a hearty laugh from Mistress in return. At a loss at her reaction, you quietly beeped at her.   

Grinning, Mistress crouched before you and placed a hand over your dome head. “Don’t sweat it, silly,” She said with a knock to your head, and you let out an annoyed little beep, “I won’t return you to the factory for this tiny mistake. I don’t know what shitty instructions they fed your system but I'm not like that. I’m way too fond of you and your weird little quirks to do that.” 

A relieved beep left you – and you realized, quite contrary to the shitty instructions you had indeed received long ago, you too had grown fond of your Mistress.) 

Happiness worms into your heart when you find Mistress looking at it fondly – then, fills your entire body, from the audio-receptors atop your head to your tiny wheels, when she directs that gaze at you.  

“Thank you,” She whispers, wiping her tears away, then rises, extending a hand to you. “Now, let’s go pick me a killer outfit before we go kick that cheating ass, shall we?” 

An excited chitter escapes you and you zoom past towards the closet – totally ignoring her sudden stillness behind you. 

“Hey, did you just smile?” 

FIVE: WARSAW; 1941 

“Has anyone ever told you, your smile’s really pretty?” 

“Has anyone ever told you, you are really pretty?” 

The boy breaks into an abashed grin at your question, and you beam back. 

A comfortable silence befalling the two of you, you return to your book – though your thoughts stray far from the tale unfurling within it.  

The fates must be cruel – you think, dragging your gaze from the tiny letters to a loose thread in your skirt – to give you a life so lonely and quiet, sans family, sans close friends; then bring it close to an end just when you’ve found a person you might want to live it with.  

A tired exhale leaves you as you close your book and flop backwards on the cot. A beat passes before a pair of arms wrap loosely around your midsection. Humming softly, you snuggle into a firm chest, relishing in its warmth – both literal and metaphorical.  

“Anything worrying you, princess?” A soft voice asks, a while later.  

“Not when you’re holding me like this,” You wish to say... yet you eventually decide against it. 

Uncertainty already plagues your mind if you’ll live to see the next morning or not – leaving behind a loved one, or worse, being left behind can only add to the woes.  

Ready with a barefaced lie, you send him a sweet smile – then freeze when a siren tears through the biting night air. A terrified shiver crawls up your spine and you squeeze your eyes shut. Another siren soon follows, then another – and you realize why they are called ‘the siren of death’.  

Dread – the cursed, doomed, endless kind – courses through you like a poison.  

Searing. Suffocating. An awful lot like dying.  

Before you can register it, a wail claws its way out through your throat, and you wrap your arms around the boy. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die,” Clutching his sweater, you say, a silent terror in your wide eyes as you peer at him, “I want to live. Here, with you. Please don’t let me die.” 

Concerned gaze sweeping over your features, the boy places a warm hand on your cheek – and smiles when you grow minutely calm at the contact. “I won’t,” He whispers to you, quiet and earnest - and you feel your heart stutter, albeit from a reason different to before, “I too want to live, with you. But preferably somewhere else, yeah? This place is cramped as hell.” 

A quiet chuckle escapes you. Brushing his white bangs away, you gaze tenderly into the crystalline blue depths of his eyes. “But do we have the money to afford a bigger place?” 

The boy grins at you.  

“Once we’re out of here, darling, we’ll have all the time in the world to earn the money we need.” 

The enemy forces find your hiding place that night. 

SIX: UENO; 2017 

“They say time’s the greatest healer of all.” 

Gojo’s blank façade shows no cracks, and you grin – though it instantly gives way to a sharp hiss! Wincing, you press a palm on the gash across your abdomen.  

Fuck! That damned sorcerer must have cut you deeper than you thought, huh... still, no biggie! Tis but a tiny scratch and you had, in turn, made him and his associates die choking on their blood. Ha! 

“I never thought I’d find you here,” A quiet voice snaps your self-gloating in half and you peer at the man leaning against the opposite wall.  

Even in the minimal light the dawn has to offer, you reckon he looks an Adonis incarnate – tall with chiselled features, shiny white hair and fitting clothes – add to those, a wealthy background and a flirty persona and you find it's not surprising, really, why Gojo turned out to be the playboy he is. 

“Why are you here?” You ask him, a tilt to your head, “Isn’t there a mission calling you now?” 

If Gojo detects the scorn in your voice, he makes no comment on it. Instead, he crouches before you and removes his sunglasses, revealing his crystalline blue gaze and the stormy allure they carry. 

You frown back at him, unimpressed.  

“The fuck are you removing your shades for, idiot? Wanna get a headache later?” 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, you can see, yet it disappears within a fraction of a second – and your frown deepens. He’s so unlike the way he usually is... 

“Hey, what’s wrong, Gojo?” You ask, concerned, when a sharp pain tears across your flesh and you swear you black out for an instant. It is then you realize what is wrong – and betraying the fear percolating in your chest, like a fucking leaden weight – you let out a barking laughter.  

“Of fucking course, the blade was poisoned,” You shake your head, a sarcastic smile on your lips, “And here I was wondering why my injuries weren’t going poof! like they do. I wonder how they...”  Trailing off, you let yourself look at your injury another time, when another realization hits you like a freight train – and the smile slips off your lips.  

“You told them, didn’t you?” You whisper, less as an accusation and more as a fact. Gojo averts his keen gaze from you.   

Twenty years ago, had anyone told you the arrogant Gojo kid your parents introduced you to at your birthday would one day be your best friend, then your lover, then your ex and finally, the reason behind your death – you would’ve certainly decked them in the face.  

Yet now, as you stare at the man before you, drowning in a sea of guilt, shame and regrets, you reckon life can be a fucking rollercoaster ride sometimes.  

“I don’t blame you, Gojo,” You admit after a while. Gojo makes no response.  

You continue, unperturbed, “You know, it was our fourth year at school when I decided to visit my clan again. They and I were not on good terms then – the absolute worst, in fact... still I decided to visit them. They were my family, after all. But you know what I saw when I went there?”  

Gojo looks at you, a faint furrow between his eyebrows. You drag your gaze skywards, “The entire estate still and silent, my parents, my siblings, the servants lying with a slit throat or a stabbed chest in their beds.”  Smiling despondently, you return your gaze to his shocked features.  

“It wasn’t a landslide which killed them, Gojo. It was those sick higher-ups who killed them – a punishment, they had told me, for my failure at catching Geto.” 

A tense silence falls over the two of you, as you finish speaking, a little breathless – and remains so – until the man breaks it with a silent question. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

You send him a sardonic smile. “And what would you have done then? Killed them? You and I both know, how risky it would have been. And I was unwilling to lose another loved one to the system.”  

A pained groan leaves your lips, and you slowly shift your posture a little, in hopes it will relieve the pain. It doesn’t. You continue, still, “Don’t blame yourself, Gojo. I would have joined Geto, even if you weren’t so distant then. Of course, I could see his mission being a failure from miles away – still, I couldn’t keep serving people I lost my family to, and I didn’t want you to create an animosity against them. And as for now...”  

A sympathetic smile creeping onto your lips, you ask, “They threatened you with the students, didn’t they?”  

You receive no words in return. Instead, a rough palm comes to cover your smaller one. His sparkling eyes now tear-filled, Gojo slowly pulls you into his lap, reminding you of the way he used to do this to you in days long gone – and then used to tickle you mercilessly, like the annoying yet dear bastard he was. 

A quiet chuckle falls past your lips and the sorcerer gives you a faint smile – though you don’t miss the wobble in his lower lip as he does so. “Anything funny you find in this?” 

“No, nothing,” You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle and reach out a hand to touch the tips of his hair – wondering if they still are as soft as they were; they sure do look very soft – only for it to fall to the ground midway. You let out a mirthless laughter.  

“The poison they used was really good, huh,” You muse aloud, then squint up at him, loathing the darkness overtaking your view of him, your time with him.  

“Hey,” Calling softly, you huddle closer to the man, an attempt to gain respite from the chill rapidly enveloping you. The grip on you tightens and you let out a soft whisper, "I want to meet you again. Think we can?” 

Gojo’s forced grin is the last thing you register before your vision blackens entirely and your eyes fall shut.  

“I know we will, darling.”  

SEVEN: ???? 

“Would this classify as a meet-cute or a meet-ugly?” 

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry.  

Your classes will be starting in another minute, in a building a good six hundred metres from here. 

Your seminar papers – the ones you prepared till three in the morning on nothing but ten cups of coffee and sheer will power – are flying away merrily with the breeze; a few even rolling, pitching and yawing (whoa!) as they flee from you.  

Your crisp white shirt – the only white your wardrobe houses and the only colour the seminar allows - is now sporting an ugly shade of coffee-brown – though, you note absently, it seems to be a pretty lighter shade than your usual’s. 

And oh! Last but not the least, you are also nursing a bruised (and perhaps, broken too, if the pain you’re in is anything to go by) ankle on the ground. 

And despite all this, this asshole is having the audacity to fucking flirt right now.  

You decide, you don’t want to laugh nor cry.  

You want to yell.  

Maybe drop in a punch too, to knock some sense into the bastard.  

Sleep-deprived features thrown into a furious scowl, you look up from your injured ankle – a swear, the likes of which will make sailors cover their ears, at the tip of your tongue – and look into a pair of crystalline blue eyes, partly covered by short white bangs.  

The world around you stills.  

And you stare and stare and – yeah, you guessed it right – stare at the man crouched before you.  

A person you know you have loved countless lifetimes before.  

A person you know you will love countless lifetimes later.  

A beat passes before the world resumes; you keep gawping at him still – totally oblivious to (or uncaring of) the cobblestone path you’re sitting on, the weird looks being directed your way, your friends calling you and rushing towards you. 

Gazing at you lovingly in return, you hear the man whisper, “Meet-cute, it is, darling.” 

You lose your balance a second time that day. 

[kokusfluffyhair]

Tahomaru tries to help you

⚠️ this is a dribble stemming from personal issues of being in a very dark place. Mentioning of suicide, social situation problems, depression, minor PTSD attack, poor living conditions. Read only if you're comfortable with these topics. Please do not ask me if I'm ok. I'm struggling but getting through this, and I'm using this piece to try to help myself cope, and who knows, maybe it'll help someone else too. ⚠️

Also sorry in advance for all the pics. It's a bit oversaturated

+ you have been without hot water for 6 days, with outdoor temperatures nearing freezing at night. You find yourself shivering especially on this 6th day after your heated-water-on-the-stove shower, a recent online interaction having sent you spiralling through painful memories.

+ and we won't even go into the communications with the landlord that day

+ you feel that a worthless, incapable piece of shit like yourself does not deserve any happiness or comfort. After all, you're just a lazy, psychotic human who's had so much given to you, right? Maybe your own feelings and perspectives on your struggles are not valid enough

+ you become engulfed in the memories of being isolated, pushed away, unappreciated, unwelcomed in social situations, the heavy pain in your heart and soul eating you up from the inside like a black hole to swallow you up

+ your mind can't stop. You have to keep remembering these times to validate your own incapabilities, your own failures, your own psychological struggles that prevent you from doing what for most people is normal

+ no one is there to help you. You feel so cold, both inside and outside. You wash your hands in the sinks ice cold water as you put on your skincare to try to put something normal into your life

+ how you could have used that warm, purifying shower to wrap you in its embrace. If you couldn't have a person, then you could let your skin pretend that it was feeling such soothing contact from the outside

+ you didn't want to call tahomaru. He was the only one you felt you had, but you didn't want to burden him. What if he also would invalidate you? What if he would also end up sending you both into a fight of a "my life is worse than yours" argument?

+ but you needed him now. How you hoped you wouldn't be seen as a thorn in his side. Sometimes you were afraid to communicate with him. You were starting to get clingy towards him, and whenever you got in a relationship where you really wanted the other person's friendship and attention, they would start to distance themselves from you. Right now, you couldn't bear facing tahomaru do that to you

+ you were on the last string of your rope, you felt. One more smash of pain into you and you might just end yourself

+ no, you would not do that. The risk was too great that you could end up deformed or seriously disabled. You would just maybe mentally burst. "Just" mentally burst.

+ you called tahomaru, who after hearing you weren't feeling well, immediately offered for you to come to Daigo Castle. It was always a strange experience being transported back in time and part way across the globe, but you had gotten used to it

+ tahomaru greeted you with a hug and immediately noticed how cold you were. "Y/n? What happened? You'll get sick this way" He didn't hesitate to take off his haori to put over your shoulders. He ordered mutsu and hyogo to have the staff make some hot tea and brought you to his quarters.

+ he let you change into some of his spare clothes and set up one of those heated table things idk if they were in the sengoku era or not,but they are now. Deal with it

+ you've shivered less since being with him and he has seen how bad you were feeling and did everything he could to make you comfortable

+ but tahomaru is nosy, too, so he asked you what happened. When he heard that you didn't have hot water for 6 days, his jaw dropped not like the average person in the sengoku era had hot water but tahomaru always got a heated bath so he can be like "wtf you're living how?"

+ "why didn't you come sooner? You can't keep living like this, y/n. You deserve better" He gives you some blankets to warm you up more and then decides to sit behind you and embrace you. "Stay here with me. Is this better?"

+ he's so warm and soft behind you, yet he feels strong too. It calms you a bit to feel his strong arms around you. For this moment, you feel like there is someone to fight for you

+ "i didn't want to burden you with my negativity." You hesitate to say the next part, but you do. "When I'm in a bad place, people always leave me"

+ tahomaru holds you tighter. "You mean so much to me. I would never leave you. If you're down, that means you need me more than ever. I promise. As your friend, I'll never let you be forsaken"

+ you find it hard to trust him. You're sure that one day, he'll have had enough of you

+ "y/n..." He notices everything. "Y/n, you don't trust me. Do you..."

+ "I'm afraid you'll hurt me like all the others. Yeah."

+ "I won't. I promise. You mean so much to me, and...you know, I'm lonely too." His voice gets a little sad. "We can be lonely together."

+ you hug his arms that are around you. Tahomaru gets even closer and embraces you tighter, pulling into his soft chest.

+ "I'm going to take care of you. I promise."

+ after all the heartbreak and pain you've experienced with other people, you still don't believe him, but you'll believe him for now. In this moment, he is there to support you and comfort you. Right now, that's what matters

+ when the hot tea comes, he loosens his embrace and sits next to you. He occasionally asks you if you are warm enough.

+ "stay the night. Then tomorrow, I'll go hunt something for you and cook it myself. It'll make you healthy" He's so proud of this idea he has

+ his words bring tears to your eyes. Someone like you doesn't deserve such kindness, yet you crave it from the deepest corners of your soul

+ when tahomaru sees that you're holding back tears, he looks like he is wondering if he did anything wrong. "Hey, y/n, did I make you sad?" He immediately hugs you, almost knocking over the tea

+ you shake your head as he hugs you. When you rest your chin on his shoulder, he puts his hand gently on the back of your head

+ "I'm here for you and I'm going to do my best so you feel better. You're important to me. Can you remember that you're important to me?"

+ you can only wonder for how long tahomaru would feel that about you

+ tahomaru starts to rub your back. "You mean so much to me. I'm here and I'm not leaving. I'm going to make sure you're OK, no matter what it takes"

+ he offers to play a game with you to try to get your mind off of everything that is troubling you. He wants you to know that whenever you are with him, you are safe and you are not alone. He manages to choose some silly game that makes you laugh

+ you fall asleep cuddled with tahomaru under a warm blanket, soothed by his body heat and the kindness he showed you. As long as you were with him, you were protected both physically and psychologically.

+ maybe you could stay there a few days and hope the hot water is fixed when you return

+ "y/n. I'm coming with you to make sure that thing is working properly."

+ maybe tahomaru can be a little too protective, but you appreciate it because he will stand by your side and fight with you

[meadowmines]

I might have been putting just a little too much thought into Ishin Aoyagi's backstory lately...

[cut for long]

he goes by Shigehiro. Or, like his mainline counterpart, Hiro to his friends.

He looks pretty much identical to his mainline counterpart except he has blue eyes and lighter hair.

He is a bastard in at least two senses of the word. His dad was Dutch and in town for a good time. His mom couldn't afford a kid and sure didn't want to deal with the fallout of keeping a blue-eyed girlchild around.

He figured out very early on that dressing like a boy made life a lot easier for a permanently unaccompanied minor. In his teens he did try being a girl for a while, went "nope don't think I care for that at all!" and just lived out the rest of his life as a man

The old widow out in the country who ended up adopting him at nine (who just happens to have the same given name as mainline Aoyagi's late bachan) clocked him right off the bat but played dumb for years.

and then puberty happened and she oh so casually cruised by to inform him that he was going to have to start binding his chest if he wanted to keep living as a man and also she could show him exactly how on account of doing it in her own youth

For years Aoyagi assumed the swords in the niche were Bachan's late husband's, or dad's, or otherwise left over from a prior man of the house. They were in fact Bachan's very own swords, she did know how to use them, she did in fact use them a lot, she was in fact a pretty well-known swordsman in her own right in her younger days, and when she caught Aoyagi out back swinging one at some bamboo she figured she better teach him how to use them properly before he hurt himself. He got reasonably good at swordsmanship, and he got to a point where he could take 3-5 average chuds in a garden-variety fight.

When Bachan passed away he took her swords and went off to the big city of Kyo to seek out a living

this did not go the way he hoped and this was definitely not 3-5 average chuds. He managed to take two of them down, which just pissed the rest off even more.

things were looking pretty grim until a certain goblin in a blue haori that really needed washed showed up and decided he felt like adding a few new bloodstains to his collection

Okita also clocked him right off the bat but didn't say a word other than a very quiet suggestion that he get better at strapping his boobs down and/or stabbin' motherfuckers

well hell no Aoyagi wasn't about to let that go

guess who showed up to Shinsengumi tryouts a week later

guess who got his ass thoroughly kicked

guess who is A STUBBORN MOTHERFUCKER IN EVERY TIMELINE

guess who showed up to tryouts again the next month

and the next

and the next

as we have mentioned Shigehiro Aoyagi is a bastard in at least two senses of the word and the fifth or sixth time he shows up to tryouts Captain Okita finds out just how much of one kind of bastard he really is

because all this time he's been watching all these fights up until he gets carried out on a stretcher and while he is absolutely not about to try using this weird but cool style some of the captains use himself for real... he has absolutely learned enough of what it looks like to engage in a little fun psychological warfare

"hey that's a cool style you got there, lemme try it out on you :D"

Okita is just weirded out enough to let his guard down for one precious second and thus Shigehiro Aoyagi, all five foot five of him, takes a fight against the Soji Okita to the ground for the first (and last) time ever and actually gets one--one!--solid punch in

Not solid enough to do any damage whatsoever, of course, and obviously once Okita gets his senses back about him he beats the living shit out of Aoyagi again but what the fuck, this little shitter learned their super secret style? how?

brought before the Chief to explain himself, Aoyagi (through a moderately bloody shit-eating grin) cheerfully admits it was a bluff, other than the basic stance and maybe one strike he can semi-reliably pull off he doesn't actually know the super secret style but faking it sure got the Captain's attention didn't it :3 anyway guess I still ain't made the cut, oh shucks and darn, see ya next month Okita-san :3

at which point Kondo kicks Aoyagi out and with the most pained expression says "you uh. you know he's gonna keep coming back until he gets in or you kill him. you know that, right?" and Okita is like "killin' him sounds real good right about now boss"

yeah, Ishin Aoyagi is definitely about 100x more of a menace than Mainline Aoyagi, anyway Okita finally decides he's tired of having to deal with this little shit every month so he just throws a blue haori at him and tells him to find something to do around HQ and try not to get his fool self killed

"something to do" turns out to be manning the severely understaffed kitchen. Aoyagi finds out real quick exactly why the kitchen is so understaffed: nobody in their right mind wants to cook for these animals

like... Captain Todo cooks sometimes and then this Saito guy brings eggs and veggies and fish and stuff and cooks a little but cooking for the whole-ass Shinsengumi is like feeding a goddamn zoo except none of the large carnivores are in enclosures and there are lions and tigers and bears with swords breathing down your neck while you're cooking and they're bitching because we just haaaad stewed daikon last night and what do you mean there's no warabimochi left, you just gave so-and-so a piece, what do you meeeean that was the last, hey Aoyagi I know it's the middle of the night and you were asleep but I got held up doing uhhhhhh official Shinsengumi business and I definitely wasn't at the brothel until midnight so uhhhh can I get some grilled fish and a large rice and a miso soup with some extra mushrooms in it hey Aoyagi where are you going, why are you screaming

Aoyagi and Nishida are buds in this timeline as well. Aoyagi suspects they were gently nudged to befriend each other so that Aoyagi could have a bouncer for the kitchen and Nishida could have an emotional support samurai to reassure him that yes, sometimes being nice really doesn't work and sometimes you really do need to go ape shit

of course there are some ...Issues with some of that Saito guy's recruits. There's this one kinda creepy but weirdly charming dude named Shigeharu Nishi...something, and he keeps making these funny comments about him and Aoyagi kinda almost being name bros, and Captain Okita has warned Aoyagi to make sure he can see both of that fucker's hands at all times but won't elaborate. And that Tom guy seems nice but keeps trying to talk to him in English and this version of Aoyagi doesn't know how to explain to him that "Western blood" does not necessarily equal "speaks English", and that's fine, but then...

"fuck's sake A-kun it's too early in the mornin' for you to be screamin' bloody murder like this, what happened" "OH I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE NOISE SIR BUT YOU SEE SIR CAPTAIN SAITO JUST BROUGHT A LITERAL FUCKING BEAR INTO MY CHOW HALL!" "yeah yeah I know Shinpa-chan's a little grumpy before he gets hiHOLY SHIT THERE'S A FUCKIN' BEAR IN YER CHOW HALL" and the bear, in blue haori, is sitting there at a table like a people eating a whole raw salmon and Ryoma is sitting there with the bear eating his breakfast like this is a normal thing normal people do

By sheer dumb luck Aoyagi and Nishida both survive the Shinsengumi implosion and effortlessly pivot right into opening up a restaurant and after feeding all these goddamn maniacs for however many years, feeding civvies is an absolute breeze.

[rengoku-loves-you]

rengoku x confident!reader (who showers him in kisses)

(not requested by anyone, i just wanted to write a little something for myself! i’ve seen plenty of x readers where the reader is shy and hesitant and rengoku ends up confessing first, but since that just isn’t me, i decided to write my own! enjoy, lovelies!)

rengoku has liked you since he first met you. you’re straightforward and blunt - he likes that! he has a hard time grasping double meanings, so he appreciates that you don’t beat around the bush. as much as he enjoys talking to his fellow slayers, it can be exhausting trying to figure out exactly what he said that set sanemi off, or trying to decipher the strange poems gyomei seems to speak in. 

with you, it’s easy. refreshing. you don’t waste words. you don’t let time whittle away by talking pleasantries and nonsense. you say what needs to be said and nothing more or less. at the same time, whenever he talks, you listen like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever heard, unbothered by his volume or intensity.

not many people do that, and he treasures every moment with you.

it’s unfortunate that you don’t see each other often, he thinks. while he patrols his region, you’re everywhere else, hunting demons in other regions and only crossing paths with him when your missions overlap. but that means he treasures those chance meetings even more, remembering them happily and always looking forward to the next time you cross paths. he’s grown extremely fond of you in a little less than a year.

which is why, when he sees you on the horizon and recognizes you, he waves with both hands and rushes to greet you with a smile.

something is different this time, though. he doesn’t know it, but you’ve been looking for him for a few days now. you’ve been attempting to track him on his mission, hoping to catch him before he slays the demon and heads off again. 

see, on your last mission, you realized something. you’d had a near-death experience, like many before. but for some reason this one had shaken you more than the others. it had been a fire-based demon, and when it touched its fingers together and blew, fire spewed from its lips. you’d been burned badly, but you managed to defeat it in the end, watching as it screamed about phoenixes and rebirth. you’d been afraid it would somehow rise from its ashes.

it didn’t. it burned out like a candle, crying about how alone it was until the very end. 

and then for a brief, nauseating moment, the demon’s dull yellow hair had become brilliant gold with crimson flickering at the tips, and you watched rengoku’s face crumble in front of your eyes.

you didn’t know why. you didn’t have much, you were used to losing. rengoku was a friend. one you treasured, but still just a friend, and a pillar at that. you were sure you would end up dying before him.

but in that moment, hallucinating as you were, the idea of rengoku dying before you, dying alone, hit you like a train.

and when you see him again, hurrying towards you with the biggest smile on his face, the lowering sun making his golden hair glow like true flames, haori flapping dramatically behind him, you realize why. somehow, someway, you’ve developed something for him without noticing.

you step forward, and then you’re running to meet him halfway. you see him falter, confused. normally, you wait for him to come to you, but this time you don’t want to wait. even when rengoku comes to a near stop, you don’t slow. you’re close enough to see his lips form the beginning of your name.

then you crash into him, and even though you know he could easily withstand it he lets you take him down with hardly more than a sharp breath, rolling in a tangle of limbs. when you finally stop, you’re lying on your back, rengoku sprawled on your chest with your arms tight around him. if he were normal, you’d probably be crushing him, but he merely lies there for a long moment, breathing with you.

eventually, he squirms, and you loosen enough that he can push himself up, sitting on your stomach while your hands fall to his hips. he crosses his arms and raises a brow at you, but he’s smiling.

“what was that about?” he asks, grass tangled in the spun gold he calls hair, dirt smudged on his face and uniform. you stare. it’s only after he calls your name, his amused smile turning worried, that you remind yourself to speak.

“i missed you,” you say, smiling at him. he blinks at you. and then he blinks again, lips parting. and then he presses them together, grinning again as a huff of laughter escapes through his nose. he leans forward, strands of sunlight spilling over his shoulders.

“i missed you, too,” he says. “it’s only been a week, my friend. you’re not normally this excited to see me.” he lifts a hand to swipe away a streak of brown on the tip of his nose, then lets it fall back into the crook of his elbow.

“well, i realized some things,” you admit, starting to rub your thumb over the jut of his hip through the uniform. he glances down briefly, then back at your face, curious but not bothered. you chuckle, moving your other hand up to the back of his neck, gently tugging him down while you lean upward. he goes willingly, and you stop when your noses nearly touch. 

from this close, he has to look at you, not the space around you like he normally does. his crimson-gold gaze is intense, full of questions and expectations. you’re not being yourself, he thinks. you aren’t saying what you mean, and your actions are confusing him. you notice him prepare to speak, shifting and furrowing his brows.

you sit up a little further, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth, because you only say what needs to be said.

when you pull away, his eyes are wide, so wide he looks like an owl. you laugh, releasing his neck to lean back on your elbow. you know he might not accept, but you don’t mind. you’ll still be friends, and as long as you can see him smile and live you’re content with just being that.

“ah,” rengoku says finally, and his arms uncross. he touches the spot you kissed, tracing his fingertips over it. “that was... not just a friendly kiss?”

“nope,” you say, and he gives another “ah,” softer than before. his fingers slide across his face, and then his palm is covering his mouth, his cheeks starting to tinge a lovely pink. his gaze flickers away from your face, down to your chest, down to himself, and he flushes further as if just realizing how you two are sitting. you, leisurely stretched out in the grass, smiling. him, straddling your lap.

he can’t help but admit to himself that he doesn’t feel too uncomfortable, just awkward and a little embarrassed. he knows he’s not light. 

“well,” he says, loud and clear as ever as he lowers his hand, “i’m not sure if you realize, but you missed.”

“did i now?” you tip your head, almost sure you can see steam rising from his head.

“yes, but i don’t blame you! it is, after all, getting darker and harder to see!” never mind the fact that the sun still isn’t fully set, washing everything in tones of orange and red. “worry not, i have an idea! i can guide you this time so you don’t miss!” his words speak confidence, but his cheeks match the tips of his hair and you can feel how tense he is.

“really.” you move upwards again, letting your breath ghost over his face. he shivers, looking at some point over your left shoulder.

“yes, really! so... whenever you’re ready, try again!” and then he sits, still and stiff with anticipation. adorable. you laugh, tipping your head forward and kissing his jaw. “ah, missed! higher than that!” you stretch, kissing the middle of his forehead. “missed again, lower! lower!” you’re giggling by the next kiss, right under his eye, and you can see his lips trembling as he fights a smile of his own. “to the right!”

“mine or yours?” you don’t wait for him to answer, tucking a wavy lock of hair behind his ear and kissing his temple.

“my right!” his voice is shaky with laughter, and you move over, pecking the tip of his nose. he wiggles it. “close! a little lower!” you pull back slightly, letting your hands cup either side of his face. a silent demand that he look at you, and eventually, he does. you ask him if he’s okay with this.

he responds by kissing you first.

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

Harvest

Platonic x gn!reader

Characters: Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu, Inosuke

Autumn Celebration: So. 03.10.21 Harvest, Demon Slayer

My Navigation is here.

Warnings: the characters are aged up

Note: Link to the Autumn Festival Masterlist

Note 2: I wrote “EEEH?!” at some point. I don´t know if that´s the English way of expressing this (in German it´s “häh?!”), but that´s what the sub always says so I´m going with it.

Wordcount: 902

The air was filled with the warm smell of crops, golden from the light of the sun. Tanjiro, with the wooden box carrying his sister strapped on his back, was walking a path between the fields. Zenitsu was trailing behind him, already dreading the next mission, though it had yet to be announced. Inosuke was walking beside you, though walking was not the right word. He was jumping around, head turning around excitedly as he took in the fields surrounding your path, nearly hurling himself at the closest farmers in some instances. You had to use all of the strength in your body to prevent him from doing so.

As late afternoon came, there were no villagers nearby anymore, nor any townsfolk. The world seemed empty and vacant. At least for a moment, then squirrels appeared, and foxes scattered, running between bushes and trees. You all trotted along, Zenitsu having long quieted down, exhaustion finding him. Even Inosuke had stopped to attempt to catch unsuspecting animals. You dreaded the evening, as you saw the surprisingly warm autumn sun nearing the edge of the world, and thus nightly darkness. You would have definitely preferred to stay at a house, but it seemed unlikely with the never-ending forest and the absolute silence that only places without any human-lives in them create.

Red specks flew up in the breeze, taken away from the campfire. You sat in a circle around it, sticks with forest food on it to cook over the flames.

“You know, around this time of the year we would all be sitting close to each other, watching our mother cook,” Tanjiro said, absentmindedly combing through Nezuko´s hair, as she rested her head on his lap. “Later she would join us and tell us story after story.”

Inosuke started snoring, making you and Zenitsu start with laughter. For a moment Tanjiro only stared dumbfounded, but then he started laughing as well. Inosuke turned and muttered in his sleep.

“Jī-chan would always make us work on the fields,” Zenitsu said after you had all calmed down. “It was really rough,” he whined, glancing at Nezuko for maybe the smallest of reactions. She only nuzzled deeper into her brothers´ lap. Zenitsu sighed. “I always hoped for a Princess to pass the fields, for her to fall in love with me, and bring me to her far off castle.”

“That didn't work,” you chimed in, and Tanjiro spluttered.

“Ha, ha,” Zenitsu said sarcasticly. “It´s not like you have any royal folks at your feet, (Y/N).”

“I never said I did,” you answered, “however, I definitely get more suitors than you do.”

“That's true,” Tanjiro said, backing you up, and Nezuko mumbled nonsense in accordance.

“You too, Nezuko-chan? Oh, how hurtful! That even my beloved Nezuko-chan-“

With one hit Inosuke had rendered Zenitsu unconscious even in his sleep. First, you and Tanjiro admired such immaculate handiwork. Then the comfort of at long last quiet washed over you. The three of you sighed in content.

When you finished eating, Nezuko stood up and pattered over to where you sat, nudging your shoulder.

“What is it?” you asked her.

“Mmmhmmh,” she mumbled, putting acorns on her head and nudging you again.

“Maybe she remembers the harvest celebration from the village close to our home,” Tanjiro thought out loud. You laughed:

“Do you want to celebrate with us?”

Nezuko let her arms fall and nodded, before jumping to wake Inosuke and Zenitsu.

“Eeeeh?! Mushrooms?” Inosuke barked. Tanjiro nodded excitedly, Nezuko hanging from his sleeve.

“If Nezuko-chan wants to, I will find the most! Come on, Nezuko-chan~”

You dragged Zenitsu back by his Haori, however, he didn´t seem to realise, still making grabby hands towards the young girl.

“Maybe Zenitsu can stay here and us four leave to find mushrooms, and maybe some chestnuts?”

Tanjiro nodded, fully ignoring the now appalled Zenitsu.

“That sounds good.”

In the end, Nezuko dragged you with her from tree to tree, running back to make the two others carry your harvest (although she started to avoid Inosuke after she had realised that he was already eating the food). You returned when the night was completely dark and all but the demon girl were fighting to keep their eyes open. Inosuke was already snoring as he led the way, stumbling. When you returned to your camp no one even complained about Zenitsu already being fast asleep, instead of keeping a watchful eye out. The moment you hit the ground sleep washed over you as well.

In the morning you awoke to the smell of roasted food. Dawn had not come yet, although the night had already lightened up a bit. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, to come to the sight of Nezuko diligently working on your breakfast made with your harvest. Confused, you also noticed corn amongst the ingredients. After looking at an equally surprised Tanjiro, who simply shrugged, you decided not to question it.

The crow came soon after breakfast, and you went off to your next mission. Nezuko was save in her box, but instead of sleeping, she started to sing a tune. Only when the forest was already behind your group did she fall asleep. Tanjiro smiled:

“She used to sing that to our siblings.”

You hummed. After a moment he added, more to himself than to anyone else:

“We will find Kibutsuji Muzan."

You and the other two nodded in agreement.

[katsukikitten]

Don't ask questions cause I don't know how I wrote this in one sitting 😂 tw mentions of blood/wounds. 18+ content Giyuu x reader?! On my bnha blog 👀

It's humid, hot even, as the rain makes a feeble attempt to cool the Earth after a long day in the scorching summer sun. You sleep in little to nothing under the thin blanket atop a fine futon, at least fine to you when before you slept on nothing but worn tatami. And with not a care in the world, the sliding door to the breeze way slightly open to watch the storm before you passed out.

What would leave you so relaxed when their was a world of demons preying on the weak?

Well you slept behind tall walls, housing the great 12 hashira, whatever the hell that meant. All that you knew was that as long as the man with long black hair returned to you, it didn't matter that you didn't speak the same language. He has rescued you about a year ago but it is a time imprinted on your brain although you wish it was not. The hot summer air, much like it is tonight, too heavy, and the rain smelling so sweet. Almost as heavy as the body of your brother you had to hide beneath in order to avoid the thing lurking in the room. Almost as sweet as his blood that dripped from his chest onto your cheeks, into your eyes.

Thunder roars over head causing you to bolt upright, hair and thin sheet sticking to your sweaty body as you gasp for air. Feeling around your throat for the last thing your mother had given you, wrapping your hand around the small woven fibers, the small hag stone cool against your neck. A necklace for protection, if only she had finished one for everyone else.

Just as he'd come that day, he stands in the mouth of the entrance after a firm lightening strike, causing you to scurry back. The door slides shut behind the tall dark figure.

"Just me." A phrase you quickly learned, right after his soft voice hushed over you, "You're okay."

He lights the small lamps in the room, illuminating his broad shoulders and long, unruly dark hair. His deep blue eyes sparkle in the dancing flame, bags beneath them as his shoulders sag. He had been gone for weeks and although he looked exhausted, the air about him still held a certain calmness about it. Like looking over a hidden lake in the peak of summer, the moon heavy and full as it reflects in the motionless body.

Blood drips from his dark hair line and onto the floor breaking the spell.

"H-hurt?" Your mouth struggles to form around his language. Mostly self taught from the books he had left and the scraps of conversation the two of you had shared. With no one to practice with it seemed to make the task impossible. You watch his jaw tick and when he does not answer you rise to collect rain water in two separate tea pots. You set both in the hearth, as you insisted on a room with a hearth, to boil.

"Tea, wash." You explain, looking over at him this time more agitated, "Sit!"

When he does not listen your heart bursts into flames within your chest. Worry etching your face as you gently walk towards him, guiding him to sit by the small fire on a silk pillow. Slowly you push back his dark hair to further inspect his forhead only to reveal a deep gash. This time it is you who grinds their teeth, gently your hands fall down to his face. Cupping his cheeks as you turn him this way and that, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck and scalp for other unseen cuts. When you find nothing else you set your hands at the v of kimono, gingerly pushing the fabric away from his body and with it his colorful haori. The more skin that is shown to you, the more you discover gruesome gashes. You hold your breath, angry tears welling in your eyes before your hand slips down to his sword at his side. Only then do his twilight eyes cut to you, giving you the usual threatening look when you try to disarm him.

"Sword stays." He bites and it's the only time he ever does, his voice softens as does his eyes, "The water is boiling, the pot will wake the house."

You show your displeasure by breathing through your nose before going towards the pots. Removing them, letting the tea steep while you head towards your large jars of self foraged herbs . Grabbing things here and there to pack the deeper wounds with, while also grabbing your mortar and pestle to grind out a smooth ointment to fight infection. The chamomile tea has finished steeping by the time you're finished, you press the warm cup into his hand as the water in the basin bowl cools. Ripping at your nightgown to his horror when you realize you used the last of your bandages on him. You made a mental note to make more tomorrow.

The hot water burns your fingers but you do not care as you dip the white fabric into the sterile water. You slide ointment over his more superficial wounds before steadily packing the deeper on in his stomach and chest. His complexion visibly pales and with every hiss and whine from his handsome mouth, the sheets of rain seem to come down harder. You wring the strips of fabric before wrapping him gently, spending the most time on his deeper wound, wrapping around his middle, having half a mind to tear the sheet for his head wound. You reach for the thin fabric but he stops you.

"What will we sleep under?" He gives a soft smile, trying to defuse your worry, if anything it heightens it.

"Shinobu?" You ask, pointing to his wounds and he understands.

"She's fine, Shinobu didn't come with me this time." You blink, playing his sentence over in your head more slowly before you nod.

"Demon hurt you?" He gives a small nod, "I'm okay."

To which you hmph. He gives a small laugh, pulling you into his lap, giving you small kisses on your cheeks.

"My sweet doctor." His smile makes your heart throb, his twilight eyes sparkling as if they held stars. He moves some hair off of your forehead before he sighs, as if he has finally come home. He feels your skin heat beneath his touch.

"Drink tea!" You hiss, if anything to get his full attention off of you. He picks up the old cup, you still in his lap slowly sipping, his eyes growing heavier after each sip. Funny enough the longer you're in his arms, no matter how sticky the hot air makes you two feel, the heavier your eyes become too.

He sets the cup down, startling you awake, slowly undoing the strings to his belt that holds his sword, pulling you to his chest as he slides into the futon, pulling the thin blanket over the two of you. One hand firmly wrapped around your middle, the other holding his sword.

"Sweet dreams." You say, hoping that's what he normally says to you before bed, adding the rare phrase that you don't quite understand, although it sets your heart ablaze when you hear it. And you saying it makes his cheeks deepen in hue.

"Love you." It is so soft coming from your lips, your hands pulling his body closer to you so you can burry your face into his chest. He goes rigid, cheeks suddenly hurting from his smile

"Love you." He repeats back, kissing the top of your hairline.

[loser-hub]

Stain headcannons SFW/some NSFW.

Warnings: yandere tendencies, kidnapping, being held against your will, one mention of self harm, etc etc. It is the Hero Killer after all! @stupid-sloot-headcanons has officially Stained me for this man so here!

He's been stalking you for months and months now and you don't even know it!

Has it really almost been a year now? Wow! Time flies when you're spending so much time watching the little object of your affections.

Its going to happen, its going to happen very soon. On the anniversary to be more precise, the day he saw you and fell in love would be the day he finally takes you for himself.

The past year has been so difficult for you, hasn't it? Wouldn't you like to be swept off your feet and be taken away to a paradise by your ronin? Anyone would, you'd be so appreciative wouldn't you?

You'll see one day, when you finally understand.

Now please, stop your crying. He's not going to hurt you, just the opposite. He wants to keep you safe, from everything. The big evil world, to your sad and unfulfilling life, away from your terrible family and the even worse...the heroes.

Don't cry he's doing this for you!

Chizome is patient, too patient. He can wait while you cry, sob and wail your little heart out. When you're done...he can finally make himself known and finally introduce himself to you! Shhh, its all right.

He's been spending the past year creating the perfect place, finding the right spot, escape-proofing it, making it secure and finally filling it to the brim with your favorite things. Your favorite foods, colors, hobbies, everything to keep you entertained, the expect replica and model of your bed so you won't be sleeping on a thin and disgusting mattress.

Any and everything for his Blossom, his Sakura.

Pink is the perfect color, the mix of white from your purity and the red of his passion, your innocence and his bloodlust. The binding color of your love, the color of your divinity. How he loves to see you in and surrounded by pink. The perfect amalgamation.

His beautiful, eternal Cherry Blossom.

Brings you "home" in the middle of the night while you're asleep, crawls through your open window that he left unlatched, puts your favorite items in a bag, holds you bridal style and takes you away into the night.

It hurts him so much to see you cry, to see you so scared and panicked but he understands. He'll sit in the shadows and wait until you tire yourself out and come around to gently run his massive hand through your hair like he's done thousands of times before.

When he's away your screaming is fruitless, there's a reason why he chose an abandoned and scarcely traveled home complex in the middle of nowhere. Even if someone heard you, you have no money and the people around would only help to make bank.

Every way you could harm yourself or use to escape has been removed and a shackle placed on your ankle until he knows he can trust you. The only place you have access to is the bathroom and he's proofed that to the same extent as the rest of the home. Replaced the shower curtain with reinforced glass, glued textured grips to the floor, handles around the sides, there's no way you could get hurt or escape. He's made sure.

...Not without outside help but who would try to kidnap his the love of his life?

Loves to have the place automated, an app on his phone connects to the various security cameras he has, controls the TV and many other things. When he's spying across rooftops and on buildings he'll let you watch the news, cartoons or maybe he'll load up Netflix for you and put a movie on.

Same with the stove and every other appliance, he controls everything, how long the microwave lasts, how hot the burners get and everything in between. Chizome has to make sure, he has to know, until you get settled and he can remove these restrictions one-by-one.

When he comes home? He's brought gifts!

A hair barrette in the shape of a sakura or a pink haori during the colder seasons to keep you warm when he can't!

When he can finally, finally trust you when Stockholm Syndrome sets in and you accept him...he's over the moon, on Cloud Nine. Nothing has or would ever make him happier than that.

You've realized your deific status and now he can truly treat you as much.

His touches are gentle, you'll hardly know he's there, fingertips fluttering across your skin. Afraid that any pressure would bring you harm. He wasn't sure how resilient you are yet, you could bruise as easily as a peach or he could bring the wrath of his grip on you and not leave a mark...but he wasn't about to test that. No markings...at least not yet, one day.

The skilled tongue swipes across your skin tasting your sweet essences while giving you unimaginable pleasure.

He's waited so long for this day and he's going to prolong it as much as he can.

Going and going until you're spent, mind blank, body trembling, covered in sweat and only then will he take you into his arms and let you rest. You deserve so much and making you see stars is only part of the job. He'll let you come down from your pleasure high before he takes you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Washing your hair, scrubbing the grime away with his sudsy hands and making you climax one last time. To make sure you know how much he loves you.

Being invited into your bed he's going to wrap you up in a mix of pajamas, the blanket and his arms. Curling up behind you like a protective wall, watching you dream with a smile.

Now that he has you unconditionally...he's never letting you go.

[sabraeal]

Whenever I view the moon on the battlefield

[Read on AO3]

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist, on the occasion of her becoming older than me once again. Old as dirt really. Practically middle aged...😂

It had snowed the night before.

Kai can taste it; it’s a sharp bite in his nose, a vivid chill on his tongue. There’s nothing to show for it now; the engawa creaks beneath his tabi, but there’s no crunch, no wetness to tell it was once there. Only the lingering scent remains, and only for those who know to look for it.

Hah, reminds him of someone he knows. Oh, how it would annoy him to hear it, to hear his shadow wrapped in strokes and made solid on the page. Maybe he would whisper it in the Vice-Commander’s ear one day; at least then that bit of poetry could come from a welcome mouth.

He takes in another breath, the cold burning deep in his lungs, and-- ah, it’s not just winter on the air today, but something else. A buzz, a jangle of bells; something dissonant with the usual bustle and boom of the compounds. This is a place filled to the rafters with young men; it should be boisterous, a raucous din of swords clashing and chatter threading through the air, but instead--

Instead it is silent. Kai is not one to put a hand to hilt, not when there is no reason to draw, but in this loud lack, he considers it.

Kai is not a small man; we could put you in the ring, Nagakura would tell him when his wallet no longer made the sweet music it ought, really give those sumo a run for their money, eh, Raki-san? He would laugh-- what man wouldn’t, when Nagakura rolled his words in his mouth, undaunted by sake or sense-- but it was true he was of a size with those men, that he could make the ground thunder under his feet should he choose it.

But when he paces the engawa now, no boards sing beneath his feet. Sound is a choice, but silence takes practice, takes precision. Babes are born into this world wailing, but it takes a lifetime to learn how to stifle a step, how to sit with a quiet mind and a calm heart. When they write of him, they will say that Shimada Kai moved mountains when he walked, but only the Watch will know that he could breathe so slowly that dust would lie still.

Well, the Watch and Gen, who slides open the shoji with a sigh, wiping at his tonsure with a grimace, and promptly jumps.

“Shimada-san,” he laughs, weakly. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

Kai would assure him that he wouldn’t be the first, but considering his reputation, he doubts that will be much of a comfort. Besides, this is hardly the first time he’s caught one of the captains unaware. I’m going to put bells on you, the Vice-Commander told him more than once, frowning at his spilt tea, then at least I’ll know you’re coming before your shadow arrives.

There’s voices coming from behind the paper; the Vice-Commander’s low, intense rumble is one of them, as well as Okita’s higher, prodding tones. The two of them sharing a room without shouting was rare enough, but for Gen to have subjected himself to it-- “There’s a meeting of the captains?”

Gen’s men call him stern, an exacting task master as relentless as any dojo’s sensei-- but they never fail to remark upon his kindness either, nor the open warmth his smile radiates, like the gentle heat off a hibachi. Expressive, a learned man might say; it makes him a good captain, a lethal warrior, and a terrible diplomat.

“Ah...” His mouth pulls tight, a grimace that flashes before he is able to school his face. “Yes. Er, or should I say, among some. There was quite a commotion last night.”

“A commotion?” It had been Okita in that room and the Vice-Commander. It would be a necessity to have Kondo as well, to keep them from nipping at each other’s throats. Captains, with Gen but one among them, but not all-- the arithmetic alone makes his blood run cold. “You mean with the Furies.”

The word alone sets Gen’s face slack, his eyes pulsing wide as he searches the courtyard, fearing the ears that might hear them, unwitting. “Yes,” he replies slowly. “Two ran free last night.”

If Shimada cussed, he would be sorely tempted to do so now. “There were bodies then? Has Yamazaki-kun--?”

“Toshi sent him out last night,” Gen assures him. “Just after he returned with Saito and Souji. There will be nothing for anyone to find when they wake this morning.”

He would be back soon, then. Dawn leaked over the horizon, lazy as it always was in these last few winter months. “Then why have the captains met?”

Gen’s breath tumbles into the air, troubled. “There was a witness.”

“A witness?” Kai shifts, restless. That would make things complicated-- or simple, depending. With their luck, however...well, anticipating the worst made more answers seem sweet.

“It’s a boy, barely more than a child.” Every word bobs heavily between them, weighed down by Gen’s disapproval. “We’ve had him in custody since last night.”

“Even a child can hold a knife.” Something a man who knew Okita as a boy should know, if half of what he’s heard is true. “And those that can’t have eyes and tongue still.”

“You would say that,” There’s no heat behind Gen’s words, just a reluctant fondness. “But you still let them beg you for candy in the marketplace.”

Ah, he would bring that up. “Even a child can hold a knife,” Kai blusters, “but that doesn’t mean every one does.”

“Then you see what I mean.” Gen shuffles down the engawa, casting a thin scowl toward the shoji. “This boy’s cheeks are smooth, not a threat of stubble on them, and yet we have him bound hand and foot like some common criminal. And all because he had no choice but to witness...”

His words stumble, but Kai does not need to hear them to know just what those child’s eyes have seen. Yamazaki may be the one that cleans up after the Fury’s missteps, but he has seen what their bloodlust leaves behind. Pieces, never enough to be made into a whole; hardly enough to throw into furnace for ashes.

“Toshi wants me to bring him,” Gen mutters when Kai matches his recalcitrant pace. “A boy not old enough for a razor, but they’ll interrogate him to see what he knows.”

“No.” The answer rattles around in his chest, hollow. “They want to know what he thinks he’s seen.”

“They might as well ask a man asleep in his bed for all the good it will do them.” Gen’s mouth is little more than a blade’s edge, hardly parting as he grits out, “Fear paints uncertain memories, and the terror this boy must have witnessed...”

Kai does not speak, but in his silence, he agrees. The Vice Commander could fire his barrage of questions, as relentless as any Black Ship, but for a child to remember anything but the beating of his heart as he waited to die-- he would be a true warrior, not to be wasted on Okita’s blade.

“It won’t be so bad,” Gen says with a wave of his hand, as if the movement alone could banish their concerns. “Heisuke is of an age with him. You know he could hardly stand to see a potential comrade in distress.”

True enough. Shinpachi used to tease him about Serizawa’s page; to hear him tell it, the boy had barely awoken before Heisuke asked him to call him by the same, bandying about the name Ryunnoske like they were brothers rather than strangers. He doesn’t, not anymore, not since...

Well, perhaps this time Heisuke would not be so quick to adopt a stray. Not when the last had hardly washed clean from the river’s shore.

“And Shinpachi-san and Sano-san won’t suffer it either.” Gen’s voice bubbles brightly, like the sunshine over a still river’s rapids, danger lurking just beneath the surface. “They might sit quiet now, but once they see this child...”

That, Kai doubted. Both were good men, but they made better warriors. Perhaps if this boy were as pitiful as Gen claimed, he would have the right of it. But otherwise, his age might work against him; boy he might be to men such as them, but to two that were used to thinking of Heisuke as an equal rather than a child--

“Okita will want to kill him,” Kai reminds him instead; the largest danger. Shinpachi and Sano would bend whichever way the Vice Commander’s wind would blow, but Okita is ruled by his own whims-- or Kondo’s word. And Kai knew which of those were faster.

“There’s few enough men he doesn’t,” Gen grumbles. “He can say what he wishes. I doubt his word will carry much weight among the captains, after...”

Everything. The Shinsegumi’s name might be new enough to shine, but already it is smeared with blood, and most of it from Okita’s blade. No one would be eager to follow his lead, not when Serizawa’s influence sat heavy on him as a yoke.

Gen hesitates, steps stilling on the boards. “You’ll watch for him, won’t you?” He turns his head over his shoulder. “Yamazaki-kun, I mean. Toshi will want to speak to him, once all this is...decided.”

Between a body and a hostage, he means. “I will,” Kai promises. “We will be ready, when it’s time.”

One way or the other.

Kai knows better to linger when Gen brings the boy out-- he needs to make a show of normalcy, of everything being what his men expect to see, even if Shinpachi is not there to drill them when they stumble from their quarters, bleary-eyed and cotton-mouthed. He does, however, catch a glimpse later when he lingers at Nagi’s well. 

The boy’s a narrow thing, undersized, not dressed in the more subdued kimono of the emperor’s dictates, but a pale salmon. Not that it makes him strange among the men here, but still-- it’s odd, as is his lack of haori, and the way his hakama sit on his hips. There’s something strange in the way he walks too, in the flexibility of his spine, but Kai can’t put his finger on it, the answer just out of reach.

“There was a witness.”

He does not startle as Gen did; instead Kai peers up at the roof, gaze catching on the shadow that doesn’t sit right until it resolves into a man instead. Yamazaki isn’t a small man-- though he’s not tall either-- but he seems it crouched there, dressed in unrelenting back.

“There was,” Kai confirms, “but the captains mean to keep him.”

Yamazaki nods, eyes too serious above the cloth of his mask. “Until they know what he knows.”

Yamazaki had always been serious; Kai noticed it that first day in Nagi house, when they swore to uphold the name of the Roshigumi. Such gravity is not often seen the young; it marked him to Kai’s eye, made it easy to take him on as a colleague in the Watch, despite their difference in ages. But he had hoped, as he watched this young man take his first stumbling steps toward friendship, that it would lighten him, give him back some of the boy he still should be.

Whatever youth Ibuki had brought out in him, there’s no trace of it left now. All that remains is that stern intensity, that arrow-like focus.

It makes him afraid. Not of Yamazaki-- he is not the sort of man one needs to fear without reason-- but for him. He’s too young to throw himself away on the dreams of other men, but it’s useless to tell him so. At his age, Kai would have been much the same.

“Yamazaki, perhaps--”

There is a commotion in the courtyard; one loud enough that his hand is on his hilt before his thoughts catch up to him. The captains have converged already, all of them on a single door, and he can’t imagine why, until--

Until he catches that glimpse of salmon, and the wide, determined eyes of their captive.

“Idiot,” Yamazaki grumbles. “Who would try to escape when they know they have the notice of the Vice Commander?”

“I don’t think...” Kai slows his tongue to match his thoughts. “I don’t think he did. I think...he doesn’t know he’s of interest at all. He hardly even knows what he saw, let alone what it means.”

The air prickles with silence.

“Enough,” Yamazaki says, decisively. “He saw enough.”

By the time the Vice Commander calls for them, Yamazaki has changed into his jinbei; no longer the lethal ninja, but a mild-mannered acupuncturist. Still, it does not change the intensity his eyes take when he kneels across from Hijikata, nor the way his hands clench at his pants.

His head bows. “Vice Commander.”

“Shimada. Yamazaki. Thank you for handling our problem last night.” A faint smile lingers around his lips, but with his next breath, it’s gone. “But I’m about to hand you another one.”

Yamazaki jerks up at that, eyes pulled wide. “Sir?”

Every word is sour when Hijikata replies, “We’re keeping the girl.”

A pin could drop, and they all would hear it.

“Girl?” Kai’s voice lifts an octave. “You mean that the boy was--?”

“A poorly disguised girl? Yes. And that’s not all.” His mouth pulls thin with distaste. “She’s Kodo’s daughter.”

Were it in him to goggle, Yamazaki would. “Yukimura-sensei’s...?”

“Yes.” The word twists wryly in the air. “Quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

Kai shifts restlessly on his knees. “Then does she know--?”

“She doesn’t know a damned thing about Kodo’s whereabouts,” he spits out, mouth rumpled in an irritated knot. “To hear her tell it, it’s been a year since she’s heard a single word. Came all the way down from Edo to look for him.”

“Alone?” Kai asks, too sharp.

Hijikata’s brows lift. “That’s what she said. She was coming down here to find Matsumoto, see if he’d heard anything since him and her dad were old friends. But apparently he’s out of town, and she’s out of luck.”

Kodo Yukimura’s daughter showing up on their doorstep mere weeks after his house burned to the ground with not a body to be found... it’s too good a story to be true, too convenient. Still, Kai find himself believing it, believing this girl he’s only seen a glimpse of.

Hijikata sighs into their silence, leaning an arm against his desk to lounge. “Sanan thinks that if we keep her here, Kodo might finally peek that shiny head out from where he’s hiding.”

“Do you think she’ll cooperate?” Yamazaki asks, every word dripping with doubt.

“Maybe. She’s quiet enough.” The Vice Commander huffs out a laugh. “Well, except when she tried to sneak out. But to be fair, I wouldn’t stick around if Souji said he’d kill me either.”

Yamazaki goes rigid at the sound of that name, knuckles blanching on his knees. Still, he stays silent.

“For the record, I don’t think the girl lying,” Hijikata mutters, already ill tempered from the thought. “But as long as we keep her, I want you two to keep an eye on her.”

“But Vice Commander--”

“Yamazaki.” The name cracks like a whip from Hijikata’s tongue. “Are you questioning my orders?”

He squirms on his knees, mouth bowing into a frown. “N-no, Vice Commander.”

“Good.” Hijikata’s mouth twitches. “Her identity stays between us. The men don’t need to know there’s a woman among us, no matter how she’s dressed.”

Kai considers that. “But if she’s meant to stay here, at Yagi House...”

“She’ll need a better cover. I know.” If anything, the Vice Commander turns...petulant. “Souji had the bright idea of putting her as my page, and Kondo thought it was a good idea--” the implication in his tone that he did not agree was impossible to miss-- “so make sure that’s the story that circulates.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“Good, then you’re both dismissed. And Yamazaki?”

The boy perks up, eager as any dog for his master. “Yes, Vice Commander?”

Hijikata hesitates, his face growing lean and wary, the way a hunter’s does before the hunt. “If she runs, you have my permission to deal with her.”

[ikesenhell]

Heatwave

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine on my page under the Masterlist. NOTES: Thank you so much to the wonderful folks who came out and hung out with me as I wrote my first Ikesen piece since ‘American Dream’ in ages. I’d been batting around this idea at the lovely @a-shout-to-the-void and finally buckled down and did it. TW: torture, abuse mentions and descriptions, blood, painful injuries. A lot of descriptions and references to Ieyasu’s childhood with the Imagawa Don’t worry, no one dies. It also somehow has a good ending? Idk man. Also, hello to my first piece with Yoshimoto in it whatupppppp

----

It was three months after the second disappearance of the Takeda, and the main hall was deathly quiet. All were assembled--Nobunaga lording on his dias, his allies gathered close--and no one spoke. 

Ieyasu wished someone would. 

“He wasn’t difficult to bring in at all,” Mitsuhide commented, as if it were the weather. Clouds from the shoreline--perhaps it will rain. 

(Funny, they could use some of that. The summer was stifling and showed no signs of abating, even as the seasons turned. The crops weren’t going as well as expected, and Azuchi was a cooker. They’d slitted the screens open, but even then, Ieyasu could see sweat beading on Hideyoshi’s forehead. Even Mitsuhide, usually pristine and inhuman, sported small pools of darkened silk in the underlayers that peeked through.)

Masamune almost smiled. “Do you really think he was stupid enough to come here on purpose? He’s got guts.”

Nobunaga’s perceptive red eyes flickered in Ieyasu’s direction. 

“Perhaps.” Mitsuhide allowed a smile. 

“Probably to try his hand at Nobunaga.” But even Hideyoshi seemed unconvinced. “Maybe the last ditch effort of the Takeda before we destroy them.” 

Ieyasu hated that he glanced at Mitsunari, looking for something in the way of understanding, anything he hadn’t guessed at already. Even if that stupid puzzled expression was there, it was something. No luck. Mitsunari had the hard, calculating stare of a man who already knew the score. 

Damn it all to hell. 

“He no doubt knows where Shingen and his ilk have scattered to. Until we have found them, they remain a threat.” With a subtle nod of an imperious head (the fine sheen of sweat glittered on his neck), he motioned to Mitsuhide. “Do what you must.”

“With all due respect, my lord,” the other man noted, “I believe there is someone else here who might be better suited to… gathering the information you require from our latest guest.”

His hands were cold. His hands were cold and they were all looking at him. Ieyasu balled his fingers into fists and willed them to stop trembling. 

(Was he angry? Furious. Incensed. They needed rain in Mikawa and the crops were a concern and in the vacuum that the Takeda left there were a thousand bureaucratic things to consider and he was never not angry, only three steps away from it where he could look at it from what he liked to think was a cool remove when it was really like a fiery tornado. They’d taken so much from him and here he was again, to take more with a smile, and he couldn’t do a damn thing without destroying it anyway.)

Nobunaga just stared at him. “Well?”

And he was the best man for the job. 

Ieyasu nodded, his face as porcelain-still as he could force. “Of course.”

---

The first time he met Imagawa Yoshimoto, he only said one word. 

Ieyasu was only a child, still in the hands of his enemies. He had bruised banding around his legs from switches and cut knees, hair that went every which way and eyes that still welled traitorously with tears when struck. Illusions of fair treatment were gone. All he had was will and a directive: this is what you can do for Mikawa. If being beaten saved Mikawa, that was his responsibility. 

Wasn’t it?

There was a banquet and the Imagawa wanted to show him off like a prize pet. Ieyasu was quiet, not stupid.He smiled politely and remembered all of the tiny details of court manners, the little things that would help him (Mikawa) survive. They’d put him into a finer haori than the one they usually allowed and seated him where all the other nobles could spy on the little waif from a nothing place. 

Yoshimoto, he later learned, was the beanpole teen sitting perfectly only a few spaces away from him. Dark hair, a charming smile, pretty eyes. Ieyasu hated them all on reflex. Whoever he was--that didn't matter. Ieyasu smiled with thanks to one of his benefactors and imagined stabbing him between the eyes. 

How would he do it first? Who would go? It made sense to start with the Imagawa head--of course, that was only the correct order of things--but he could also trap them all in the hall and set it ablaze, let them scrabble over each other like rats. He could pick off their families one by one. He could--

Someone set a sake cup heavily in front of him, only half-poured. Ieyasu blinked rapid-fire up at the teen smiling down at him. 

“Smile,” he instructed, fluttering a fan entirely-too-close to both of them. And then he rushed away.

Ieyasu glanced down at the cup on his table and realized two things: one, he’d allowed his polite facade to slip. He could feel the stormcloud in the grit of his teeth. Two, the Imagawa teenager had blocked him from view with the fan--and probably spared him a beating. 

Only later did he learn his name. 

---

The dungeon stairs were slick. Every once in a while, someone came and cleaned the mold and mildew from the flagstones, but that was a lost cause. It seemed like the only moisture in Azuchi had escaped to its basements. Wet-blanket heat settled foul in the belly of Mitsuhide’s workspace, the little light lancing from narrow windows illuminating hazy curls of breath-sucking humidity. Ieyasu disguised his disgust at the foul smells the way he knew best--frowning. 

Their prisoner was moved to the very last cell, the ‘interrogation room’. Mitsuhide’s gentle words didn't disguise its purpose. It was an execution chamber and torture cell. Ieyasu never went in to discover its secrets. What he did was in the open, precisely where everyone could see it. 

(Because if you were going to hurt someone, you did it openly, he’d decided. Cowards hid abuse. If you raised the sword, you showed the sunlight its deadly glint and let heaven know your intent. Violence couldn’t be wrapped in a silken kimono and paraded before leering eyes--)

The door was shut. Ieyasu didn't waste the time to reflect on it. No interior monologue did him good here. Shunting thoughts and the heavy latch to the side, he stepped in. 

Their prisoner was kneeling. Mitsuhide prepped well. His knees were tied to those uneven slats the other man so preferred, jagged, uneven boards guaranteed to end with shattered shin bones if left long enough. He’d been stripped of his fine armor and things, reduced to a (still beautiful, dark grey and blue silk) final layer of kimono. Unkempt, shiny dark hair spilled loose on his shoulders. As Ieyasu stepped inside, those gold eyes met his. 

Yoshimoto had the audacity to smile. 

“Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he said, light as a feather, his voice already hoarse. Like commenting on the weather. Awfully hot, isn’t it? It should have rained by now. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

All the anger he kept so tightly coiled unfurled, the head of it raring like a threatened snake, and Ieyasu bared his fangs, too. “You should have. Why did you come?”

It was a stupid question. They both knew that. Yoshimoto just smiled that serene, sad, painter’s smile. Maybe, Ieyasu thought, if he had half of Yoshimoto’s artistic eye (the way he’d never had Mitsunari’s reflex genius or Masamune’s slick tongue or Nobunaga’s command or--), he could take the scene before him and transform it into a painting. The light cast over his prisoner’s back in sharp relief, all of the folds of silk and linen and hair akin to one of those Portuguese paintings they tried so hard to pawn off on them. 

“Are you going to answer?” Ieyasu demanded. Cold, cold, cold. His hands were cold. 

Yoshimoto dipped his head silently. “You know why I came, and you know why I won’t leave.”

Ieyasu sucked in his breath--like that would crush the flames of anger twisting, tornadoing in him. It burned in his throat. First, he’d get Yoshimoto off those planks. Those would come later. 

---

When he emerged several hours later--without anything to show for his efforts, just blazing fury and frustration renewed and a respect that clawed at his spine--Ieyasu blinked in surprise at the Chatelaine standing just outside the stairwell. He almost missed her. The sun was gone by now, the moon rising in its inconstant arc over Azuchi’s peaks, long lines of moonlight as gentle as the flickering torch light below was ominous. 

Of course she was there. Of course.

“How is he?” She asked, and Ieyasu wanted to scream.

“How do you think?” He snapped. “Go inside.” 

She didn't move. Instead, she produced a cold cup for him, shoving it into his hands. 

“What’s this for?”

“It was hot today. You must be thirsty.”

He stared at the cup in his hands, the silvery liquid inside glowing like moonbeams. “How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

What did that mean? How long had she waited here in the fading dusk, listening to the muffled sounds below, with a cup for him? Was it even for him? How could she give him this when only moments before, he’d washed away the blood of her--her--

Gods, he still couldn’t say it to himself. 

“Who told you?” He finally asked, his voice sharp. 

She folded her hands over her skirts instead of answering. “Is he alive?”

Of course this was about Yoshimoto. Of course this was. Even the cup was in the interest of getting information. Icy, crawling hatred slithered down the small of his back like sweat. Unceremoniously, Ieyasu dumped the contents of the cup on the ground. 

“Ieyasu--!”

He contemplated breaking it. But that wasn’t fair to her. None of this was. None of this was fair to her, just like none of it was fair to him. So instead he shoved the little mug back into her hands and stalked inside, as if moving fast enough would leave all of that behind. 

---

For the rest of his captivity, Yoshimoto was less a person and more a concept. Ieyasu saw him sometimes, fleeting glimpses of a young man blooming handsome. What kind of a life did he lead, Ieyasu wondered? It must be the opposite of his plight. No doubt he had enough to eat. No doubt he had clothes that fit, people that cared whether he lived or died, someone to spare a smile at him. No doubt he could sleep at night without a burning hate clawing up his throat and threatening to choke him. 

It was hot that summer--sweltering, relentless. Ieyasu’s room had no screens to the courtyard and so he tossed and turned fitfully at night, too uncomfortable to sleep. Sometimes he dreamed of Mikawa and home, home with the people who relied on him to be strong, people who allowed him to step down from his endless responsibility of strength for a day and be a young man again. 

They exchanged words only briefly once more, before Ieyasu went home and returned again and razed them, burned their houses the way he’d always dreamed, released all the untamed hatred raring in his heart and finally did for Mikawa what his endless abuse at the Imagawa had never done. They passed in the hallways and Yoshimoto stopped him, a small retinue at his side. 

“Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he said lightly. Yoshimoto said his name like a name, not a curse, not a burden on a household already determined to hate him. “How are you today?”

What could he say? A thousand callous things spiraled through his mind, each one more vile than the other, until he couldn’t think of a single nice word. He simply shut his mouth and nodded slowly, safely, feeling thick and stupid. “It has been quite hot lately.”

Those gold eyes stared right through him. And at long last, Yoshimoto nodded. “It certainly has. I hope it rains soon. May you have an excellent day.”

When he returned to his room that night, there was a small, beautiful fan sitting in a neat package before his door. Ieyasu let the slow, languid sound of its fluttering lull him to sleep, its cool breeze the first reprieve in months. 

---

He didn't think about Imagawa Yoshimoto for a long while after, not even when he served as Imagawa's puppet ruler. That chapter of his life was behind him. Ieyasu had exacted his revenge on Imagawa. That was over. 

It was, at least, until the Chatelaine. 

---

“Why are you here?” He demanded. 

She was waiting for him again in front of the dungeon steps, a small package wrapped in her hands. Her kimono was a soft blue with little white details, modest and cute and practical and perfect. She worked so hard. Everyone knew that. He knew that. 

“You didn't have anything to eat this morning,” she answered. The sun wasn’t yet at its peak, but already he could see the waves of heat rolling across the fields behind her, the bronzed backs of villagers in its orange glow. “You almost never miss breakfast.”

“Almost,” he pushed, as if that word made all the difference. Damnit. Damn it all to hell. This was why he had to hate people like her and Mitsunari (and Yoshimoto). The second you saw anything different in them, they pried you open like oystermen searching for pearls and only recoiled in disappointment when they discovered nothing but sand and salt. “You know that this won’t bribe me, right?”

Her cheeks flared white-hot. Good. Hate me. Hate me like I have to hate everyone else who wronged me. 

“You do know I like you, right?” She snapped. “I’m your friend. I’m not doing anything to bribe you.”

“Yeah?” Ieyasu sneered, too angry and confused and bitter to stop himself, “Just like you like Imagawa Yoshimoto? Should I expect a love letter--”

She flung the package into his hands (he caught it, barely) and marched away, her shoulders knit tight together. 

It still smelled of bean paste when he arrived in the last room of the dungeon, Yoshimoto already prepared and silent for the day. He looked well, for a man who now sported a bruised eye, crusted lip, and a slightly jagged shoulder. 

“Good morning, Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he announced, hoarse but polite. 

Ieyasu unwrapped the breakfast and examined its contents. There was a little more than usual. 

“Your woman,” he announced, (and why was it so hard to sound angry and impassive, why did he want to sound sad?) “Apparently gave me extra food under the impression I might give you some.”

No doubt the prisoner was starving. He’d barely had enough to eat to sustain himself, let alone under the pressure of the torture. But Yoshimoto straightened.

“Is she well?”

No mention of the food. No weakness. Just that endless reservoir of hope that Ieyasu resented, resented because he couldn’t find it anywhere inside himself. Didn't he deserve that kind of serenity? 

Silence. Ieyasu considered his words. Yoshimoto, no doubt, was wondering what had become of her, if Nobunaga had exacted on her the same fate that awaited him. The uncertainty was doubtless crushing. A thousand lies presented themselves.  

“Yes,” he finally allowed. “She’s fine.”

Yoshimoto smiled. Even through the bloodstained teeth and greasy hair and bruising and marks running roughshod over his arms where everyone could see, he still glowed. “Good.”

---

Ieyasu still dreamed about being with the Imagawa. 

Usually it was just the shape of things. The oppressive hot of his bedroom, the rolling waves of contracting pain in his muscles, the crushing emptiness of a room with no sunlight. 

Sometimes Ieyasu considered them a mercy. It wasn’t the same as the real thing. He didn't have dreams about how the men decided to test how far his stone expression went, applying hotter and hotter blades to his skin to see if he’d cry. They finally applied a white-hot wakizashi to the tender flesh of his thigh and he screamed so loud he couldn’t talk clearly for a week. 

Where was Yoshimoto during all this, he wondered now? There was no way he couldn’t have known. He had a reputation as a lush, but Ieyasu also knew from first-hand battle experience that more lay beneath that pretty exterior. He was like his Takeda cousin: he knew how to play a good game. Had he known just the hint of Ieyasu’s abuse, or had he understood the full spectrum of it? Surely the men of court talked. No doubt they made it a game. 

Yoshimoto had to know. 

She was surprised when he confronted her in the courtyard. She was hanging up some silks she’d washed, their bright colors like cavalry banners. Her stone-face was good, too, but not as good as his. He could see the thin lines of worry and sleepless nights stretched in the fine skin under her eyes. 

“Why him?” Ieyasu demanded. 

The chatelaine blinked at him, registering his question. No immediate answer. That was wise. “Why do you want to know?”

“Do you know what the Imagawa are like?” He hissed. “Do you know what they did? Do you have any idea?”

(It was hot out, so hot that he could see the wet silks drying already. No breeze lifted them. They hung like corpses strung out as an example. The remains of the burns on his thighs and arms, even now, stung superheated. The prickle of sweat against them was agonizing and he’d learned to live with it.)

Slowly, she dipped a hand into the cold water of her wash bucket and took his fingers in hers. Sweet relief! Ieyasu tried not to unbend under her gentle touch, the kindness, tried to convince himself that this was for someone else’s benefit and not his. History said otherwise. Long before she’d met Yoshimoto, she’d been like this. 

“No,” she said at last. “I don’t know much about who they were to you, just the vague details you’ve shared.”

“Then why him?” Ieyasu groped for his real question. It was that simple, wasn’t it? Yoshimoto wasn’t just on the wrong side. He was on the worst side. Even Uesugi Kenshin was better than an Imagawa. 

“Well…” She dipped her hand back in the bucket, splashed more water on his arms. It clung to the silk of his sleeves and cooled the worst of his burns. “There’s a lot to like about him.”

Of course there was. Yoshimoto was intelligent and clever. He had excellent taste and was handsome and diplomatic, even if he had a reputation as a useless leader and a lush. He’d never been anything but kind, and Ieyasu hated that. 

---

Yoshimoto hit the floor with a thud and a yelp, but an unsatisfying one. Ieyasu prowled around him. 

“You know what Nobunaga wants.” The sun shot unrelenting into their chamber, superheating everything. Ieyasu was sweating like a madman and refused to cede even a single article of clothing. He would not reveal the testament of his failures hidden underneath. “Just give me where Shingen went.”

The other man laughed miserably and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Ieyasu kicked him back over. 

“He would have told you,” Ieyasu snarled. “That was your plan. Your plan was to come here, get her, go back into hiding with her and the rest of the Takeda. Wasn’t it?”

For once, Yoshimoto sighed and shut his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Giving us his whereabouts--”

“Ieyasu,” Yoshimoto interrupted wearily (and he still said his name like a name, goddamnit, not a curse or a burden or an evil thing, even after all of this), “She hates war. Why would I bring her straight into one?”

Outside, heat thunder rolled. No break in the heat yet. Its siren song drove the farmers and townspeople mad with hope. Hideyoshi had looked out sagely that morning and declared that it wouldn’t rain--not today--but it might later that week. They usually trusted him with that kind of thing. Right now, Ieyasu wished that it would come pouring down and drown them both. 

“That has no relevance to where Takeda Shingen is,” Ieyasu finally responded. 

“I don’t know where Shingen is.” Yoshimoto laid his head on the cool flagstones, eyes still shut, blood flecked over his hair and the filthy silk of the kimono he’d worn the first day. “He wouldn’t have told me.”

Cold, cold, cold hands. “So you’ve said. You’ve said that at least a dozen times.”

A pause. Yoshimoto’s chest heaved a slow, jagged tempo. “He wouldn’t tell me because of her. Because of us.”

Ieyasu wanted to scream again. He could feel it bubbling in his throat, like the ghost of that white-hot blade pressed to his skin. 

They were too nice too nice too nice, they both knew what he was doing to him and still she washed his hand and still he said his name like a friend and still there was no damn rain and still she didn't hate him he didn't hate him why couldn’t they just hate him

“Why?” He finally managed, his voice a twisted blade that tore at him the whole way out. “Don’t you hate me?”

Yoshimoto opened his eyes, still gold and pale against the gray walls, still handsome and bright and sharp. 

“You’re doing what you have to do,” he managed at last. “And I’m certain you hate me. I probably deserve it.”

Burning burning burning cold hands. The sweat seared him. “Did you know? Did you know the whole time I was there, and did you ignore it?”

At last, they were down to the crux of the whole thing. Yoshimoto wriggled like he meant to sit up (as if they were peers in this moment, just sitting and listening to a friend share their worries) and when his body failed him, he slumped over as best he could, eyes locked and gaze unwavering. 

“Tokugawa Ieyasu,” he said, “You do know I was thirteen?”

That wasn’t an answer. 

“I knew there was something wrong,” he answered at last. All the words sounded labored. “The details, I never knew. Just the hot room and that you looked ready to kill half of us if given the chance from time to time. I never would’ve known anything specific unless it came from you.”

(He was angry. So, so, so angry. A free-wheeling, blistering summer, crop-killing, volcanic kind of anger that threatened to overflow and kill everything in its wake.)

Ieyasu curled his fingers so tight that his knuckles creaked. Yoshimoto slumped his head back to the floor, shut his eyes and took another labored breath. All of his bruises were out in the open, where everyone could see them. There were no hidden marks, nothing easily covered in the painted facade of a silk--like desecrating a pretty vase, Ieyasu thought. 

“Did you know that your uncle--I think it was your uncle--burned me?” He announced. “My arms, my legs. He held a knife over a fire and waited until it glowed, then tried to see if I would scream. He only stopped when I finally did. I’ve still got the scars.”

Yoshimoto’s eyes were open again. There was no stone face--just a well of confusion and relentless sorrow. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Ieyasu instantly wanted him to take it back. “That should never have happened.”

Outside, the thunder rumbled again. They’d both been kids, once. Kids who barely knew each other, who lived in the same place and entirely different worlds and never once knew what lay beyond their circle. There was a faint scar just above Yoshimoto’s collarbone. Ieyasu wondered what it was from.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ieyasu said. “You couldn’t have stopped it anyway.”

---

No one was completely sure when she and Yoshimoto met, though Ieyasu suspected that the Takeda had spies in Azuchi for a long time before the battle. It was likely in their own marketplace. They had fine fabrics and he knew that Yoshimoto, otherwise an unremarkable daimyo, wouldn’t have stood out. He’d noticed her disappearing off to the stalls for supplies more frequently, but her business was also thriving. Everyone wanted her wares. 

Mitsuhide found the letters first. 

The only thing that saved her from Nobunaga was that she’d revealed nothing treasonous. It was love, plain and simple. His fine calligraphy lay neatly on thin mulberry paper (an artistic touch and beautiful in its own right), every character reserved entirely to her wellbeing and their budding affections. No mention of armies or war. No hatred, no grandstanding. Just love--love, plain and simple and innocent and complicated and all-encompassing and blinding. 

But all that meant was she was safe. 

And the match made sense, as much as Ieyasu couldn’t stand to admit it. They were both art lovers, convinced of its importance as much as warfare, certain that without it, what kind of a world existed to fight for at all? They used entire leaves of paper discussing dyeing techniques and exchanging book recommendations and talking about their homelands. 

(And honestly, Ieyasu hadn’t needed the letters to cement what he already knew. She’d spied Yoshimoto on the battlefield and he saw her whole body light up, eyes blazing with the kind of need he’d never seen in her before. He already knew then. He’d just hoped he was wrong.)

Nobunaga wouldn’t let some traitor daimyo run off with his lucky charm. Not in a thousand years. 

Ieyasu rapped on her door late that night, and she opened the screen, bleary eyed from fatigue. She’d barely slept in a week. The red rim of her eyes betrayed every tear she couldn’t shed in front of them. 

“Come on.” He took her hand and pulled. 

“Where are we going?”

“Shut up.”

The silly woman somehow still trusted him. Ieyasu dragged her quietly down the stairs, past the main hall, through the courtyard and out the front door. She wasn’t dressed to be in public and still didn't question him. Without ceremony, he reached the dungeon door and yanked it open, its hinges silvery in the moonlight and depths impenetrable. 

She stared at him. “What are we--”

“I said shut up.”

One step at a time, he lead her into the darkness. The stairs were almost dry, the unnatural heatwave baking it clean. Still he was cautious. They reached the bottom and he fetched a lit torch, motioning at the guard on duty to leave without a word, and fetched the key ring. “Lift your skirts and follow me.”

Yoshimoto was back in his holding cell. He was still holding his left shoulder slightly jagged, his breathing shallow but even, his split lip now clear and the grime of his face washed clean. Apparently he’d used his drinking water to do that. He peered intently around the corner at Ieyasu. “Tokugawa--”

Then he saw her, and he fell completely silent. 

“Here.” Ieyasu fumbled with the keys (he’d never had to unlock the cell doors) and finally found the right one. “You don’t have long.”

Yoshimoto struggled to rise and failed to get up. He didn't need to. The second Ieyasu cracked the door, she flung herself inside and her arms around him, their bodies bound so tight together that he wondered if they’d ever been separate at all. Her voice cracked, slurred something in her native tongue, the beginnings of a sob rolling through her back. 

“Shh.” He lifted his arms with effort, wound his fingers in her hair, kissed her forehead, her head, her eyes, clutched her to him. “Hush, darling. Hush. It’s okay.”

It isn’t, Ieyasu thought. It really isn’t. But they just sat there in silence together, her tears muffled into his chest and his body emanating love like sunlight. And he wondered (as he’d wondered a million things about Imagawa Yoshimoto lately) how a man who’d barely been able to get up this afternoon could summon the strength to smile and hold her so tight. 

---

“He doesn’t know anything.”

Nobunaga and Hideyoshi cocked the opposite brow at the same time, which might’ve been comical were it not so deadly serious. 

“Is that so?” Nobunaga remarked. It was the tone of voice that let him know this was not a question. 

“Shingen didn't divulge where he was going to Imagawa expressly because he knew about the attachment to the chatelaine.” Ieyasu inhaled. “So when he left, he was effectively spurring Imagawa to leave the fight too.”

Mitsunari frowned. “That is a valuable ally to excise for sentimental reasons.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “Practically cutthroat of you, Mitsunari. Color me surprised. As it so happens, I’ve obtained similar intelligence.”

Hideyoshi’s surprise translated loud and clear. “Really?”

“So it would seem. The thorn in our side still has a few petals remaining.”

Nobunaga’s gaze fell back down on Ieyasu, searching him. He’d grown used to most of those inscrutable expressions: contemplative, frustrated, puzzled. Now it was just the brotherly stare he got after some of his worst days on the battlefield. 

“How is our prisoner?” He asked. 

“Yes indeed,” Mitsuhide purred. “Is he still alive?”

“He’s alive.” Ieyasu paused. “He’s… relatively okay.”

The Devil King’s eyes never wavered. “And what would you recommend we do with him?”

---

Yoshimoto was allowed medical attention and to rest for one week, the meagre possessions he came with restored to him. Even with the fresh scar on his lip and a slight catch in his shoulder (Ieyasu was relatively certain it would smooth out over time), he was still regal and handsome. The cold grey of dawn greeted them with a blinding lightning bolt and a torrential downpour. It soaked through the cracked earth and ran muddy and wild over the fields. 

Ieyasu affixed the last of Yoshimoto’s things to the saddlebag himself. “That’s everything.”

Imagawa Yoshimoto smiled at him, despite everything. “I appreciate that.”

The chatelaine lingered in the stable. She’d snuck out to see him off, despite all of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi’s disapproval. Her eyes were puffy with new, unshed tears. “You’re just going to put him out in the rainstorm?”

He glanced out the stable door. It came down in thick, obscuring sheets. “Yep.”

“Come now.” Yoshimoto gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be just fine, love--”

Ieyasu snorted. “Of course you two will.”

The lovebirds started. He relished the look of surprise. 

“What does that mean?” She said. 

“You idiot, the rain will keep anyone from seeing that you’re gone for at least twenty minutes.” Ieyasu checked it again. “No one on lookout will be able to tell the difference between one rider and two. If you time it right, you can clear the Azuchi fields by the time it lifts. Yes, you’ll get soaked--”

“--It’s perfect cover.” Yoshimoto finished, breathless. 

“Ieyasu.” She dashed to his side, catching his hands in hers. They were so warm that it melted through her fingertips and into his--a comfortable, gentle heat. “Ieyasu.”

“Go.” He pointed at the saddlebags. “I smuggled in some of your things. Your weird bag, sewing stuff, some goods. Mitsunari helped me grab extras. No one questions if he takes things. Now get out of here before anyone realizes you’re gone.”

The chatelaine smiled at him--a blazing, beautiful smile--and leaned in and kissed his cheek hard. “Thank you.”

He was going to miss her.

“Go,” he repeated instead. “Go now.”

Yoshimoto and him helped her into the saddle first. Afterwards, Yoshimoto mounted up behind her, wrapping his cloak and body around her as best he could. “Thank you, Tokugawa.”

“If you don’t do right by her,” Ieyasu warned, “I’ll definitely kill you next time.”

“I take that under advisement. Thank you.”

A jerk of the reins and a kick, and they bolted out of the stables and into the pouring rain. Within seconds their figures swam into a vague blur, melding together in the shifting faraway. Only moments later--gone. 

Ieyasu stood there alone in the silence, his hands warm, his thoughts swirling like lazy koi in a fishbowl, aimless and unbothered. Without thinking, he stepped outside and stretched out his arms, letting the cold droplets run down his sleeves and cling to his skin. 

[hitsuackerman]

A Different Hashira (Giyu x Reader) pt 5

Here is the part 5 of A Different Hashira

You can click here for part 1 :)

You can click here for part 2 :)

You can click here for part 3 :)

You can click here for part 4 :)

- - - - -

Attempted Conversations

Despite the fact that you failed in extracting knowledge as to what his favorite food was, the two of you still enjoyed the simple lunch of tempura and soba. It was a miracle that you knew just how much spices you needed to put since Giyu had such particular taste.

"Are you in the mood to talk, Tomioka-san?"

"Mhmm."

Taking your eyes off of the tempura, you stared at the messy haired hashira. He was wearing a white undershirt and his pants. Though this time, he was barefoot.

"How was your mission?"

"It was successful. I met up with Kochou and she assisted me." He slurped his soba and proceeded "A dog bit me as well."

"Huh?" Putting your bowl down, you scooted towards him and extended a hand. Half expecting he would reject it.

Staring at you with stuffed cheeks, he placed his chopsticks down and gave you his bandaged hand. Inspecting it a little, you saw the messy of a job was done in wrapping up the injury. Knowing that Shinobu would never make something that horrendous, you could only deduce that it was him who did it.

"This was done... very badly, Tomioka-san."

Taking his hand from yours, he grabbed his chopsticks and continued eating. You sighed and stood up. With big steps, you went to your room and grabbed your first aid box. Though you were not as skilled as Shinobu when it comes to medicine, you were an expert at wrapping bandages. Admittedly, it had been a while since you last bandaged your hand. Hopefully, your hands still remembered what to do.

Seeing you carrying a first aid kit, Giyu stopped eating and waited for you to begin the small procedure.

Carefully unwrapping the bandage, you felt how calloused his fingers were. You didn't know how old he was but your estimation was around 18 or 19 years old. Asking him would be pushing it and he might just stand up and leave you alone.

Seeing that there was a faint bite mark, you couldn't help but giggle at the picture of an emotionless man being bitten by a dog.

"What?"

Your thoughts were cut when his voice cut the silence between you.

"I was just thinking how you looked like when the dog bit you." A smile escaped your mouth. Looking up, you saw him staring at you with such dead pan eyes. He looked annoyed but in reality, he looked like a child. Your smile only grew  even larger causing him to sigh in defeat.

A few minutes passed and you were pleased with your handy work.

"There you go! Much better and definitely cleaner too."

"Thank you."

Crawling your way back to your seat, you picked up your bowl and continued to eat. A slight breeze found it's way to the two of you. Instantly, the two of you relaxed. The two of you had been on long journey's and the breeze was a much needed energy booster.

"Your left palm? What happened?"

"Hmm?" You replied with food in your mouth this time.

"I noticed a healed laceration on it."

"Very observant. Yes, it is a healed laceration. As to how I got it, only time will give you the answer, Tomioka-san."

Now that the two of you finished sharing lunch, Giyu silently offered to wash the dishes once more. Thanking him, you cleaned the table and set it aside. Now that the receiving area was empty, you lazily flopped to the ground and inhaled the fresh air passing through the engawa.

"Care to join me?" You invited Giyu to lay down on the tatami mats.

"No."

"Suit yourself."

Hearing his footsteps go up the stairs, the tranquility was cut by the caws of your raven and his crow. Landing beside you, the two birds looked at each other and nodded.

"(F/N) (L/N) and Giyu Tomioka. Head northwest. Village with reports of demon. Leave tomorrow. " Karasutori announced.

"So much for peace, ey?" You hummed while petting the head of both birds. Both of them responded by bowing their heads even more. Telling them to wait, you went back inside the kitchen and gave them each some bread crumbs. The moment they left, you headed to your room to get ready for the mission to come.

As the sun was setting, you had just finished preparing the necessary items. Hoping that there would be a Wisteria house there, you only brought some bandages and cash. Any more than that would become a hindrance when fighting off demons.

The question now was, which sword you would have to bring with you on the mission. With zero details to go on, it would be a risk to bring a jagged sword. Telling yourself to pay Tecchikawahara a visit, you stored the blue Nichirin blade and brought out the black sheathed one from your closet. Taking a cloth, you wiped off any traces of dust and placed it beside your futon.

Hopefully, this demon would have no need to let you use any breathing techniques. It did cross your mind that this would be the perfect time to show Giyu what kind of pillar you were, but you made a pact with yourself. Only use it in times of need.

Standing up, you changed into your uniform's skirt and a plain white shirt. Too lazy to cook dinner, you headed to the butterfly estate. There you killed time till you fell asleep

- -

Going back to your estate in the early hours of your dawn, you savored the chilly morning breeze accompanied with all of nature's sound. Regretting not bringing along your haori, you walked a pace faster till you saw the familiar building emerge from the wisteria trees. A carving of tidal waves were now visible on the wooden gates.

Opening them, you were greeted with a meditating Giyu with tea cups beside him.

Walking up to him, you sat on the engawa. Your eyes focused on the steaming cup of tea. Sipping on it, you felt energized and ready to start the mission. Comfortable silence engulfed the two of you. Thanking him for the tea, you stood up to ready yourself for the mission.

Moments later, the two of you were now walking towards the Northwestern village.

Inside you, you were dying to initiate conversation. You were so used to having Misturi or Kyojuro talking their hearts out as you headed to your assigned places. The person you were teaming up with gave you nothing but silence. Would he be annoyed if you kept talking about random things till you reached the village? Would an exchange happen? Or just nods and hums? Sulking it up, you began to tread the waters.

"Uh, what kind of demon do you think we'll find?"

"Not sure yet."

"When did you start learning water breathing, Tomioka-san?"

"A few years back."

"What was it like, training with Urokodaki-sensei?"

"Never let him drink alcohol."

"Wait, what?"

You stopped walking as you processed the tidbit of information you had just received. In all your years with Urokodaki, you had never once seen him drink anything other than tea and water. A mental image of him drinking was harder than learning your own 10th form of breathing. Catching up to Giyu, you matched his pace once more.

Regretting that you stopped the momentum of the conversation, you stared at him once more. You noticed how his cheeks were a little bit more fuller. The dark circles around his eyes were still there, though. He had his fair share of sleepless nights, too. Mentally, you took note to buy some lavender to help him get some goodnight's rest.

By the time the two of you arrived in the village, the sun was now setting. Looking for an inn or a Wisteria house, you stumbled upon the latter. The family gladly took the both of you in but only had one room to offer. Graciously accepting it, the two of you sat down on the only futon available and rested your legs after a day's worth of walking.

"Shall we take turns in patrolling the area?" You offered.

"That's fine. Rest for now. I'll start."

Before you could say another word, Giyu vanished. Not bothering to get up, you plopped onto the futon and took a nap. Just as you felt your body give in, there was a knock on the door. You sat yourself up as you told them to enter. Upon seeing their smiling faces, you were greeted with 2 sets of mouth watering food.

With no one else to talk to, you invited the woman to sit down and chat.

"Do you have any idea what kind of demon is running lose?"

"Very faint, but I heard that the demon only eats those in their teens and late twenties. Some people also report that they find large holes around the forest. Holes enough for a full grown person to hide in."

"I see. When was the last time there was a sighting?"

"About 3 days ago. By the ramen shop."

"Around what time? Would you know?"

The girl touched her chin and tried to think about the conversation she had.

"They say it was around 10pm."

"Alright. Thanks for the information, uhh, may I have your name again?" You scratched your head awkwardly at forgetting the name of your host.

"Ayumi." She replied with a smile.

"Thank you, Ayumi-san. You should rest now, I'll be patrolling in a few minutes time."

After you finished eating, she took your set of bowls and dishes. Leaving Giyu's meal in case he would feel hungry when he returns. Laying back down on the futon, you yawned and waited for the return of your partner. You closed your eyes to make use of the time.

You woke up with start when you felt the futon move slightly. Giyu had returned. Examining him, he looked clean and calm, as always.

"Anything happened?" Rubbing your eyes as you asked him.

"None."

"Aight, Imma head out now. You- oh you already ate, good." Standing up, you took your blade and bid farewell.

- - - - -

a/n:

so... this was... yeah xD sorry if this chapter sucks but author-chan still has to build things up a bit ;) doncha worry, there will be action in the next upload. i also hope that ya'll felt that this chapter was quite awkward since its usually awkward around our bibi boi Giyu~ (save if your Tanjirou because, yeah he's who he is 😂 )

Also... I tend to update this late here in tumblr so if you guys want the link to the story :) feel free to message me :D this is actually chapter 5 out of 16 (currently)

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

If you fell in love with....(SFW)

SFW

♡!Tanjiro!♡

-Nuzzles and puzzles

-most likely being related to Gyui

-super badass girl

-mom and dad of Zentisu and Inosuke

-Headpats for Nezuko

-still getting space because Tanjiro loves chu

-but also never enough space and crying to him like Zenitsu

-top demon slayer and people know if, if they messed with Tanjiro they messed with you- and Messing with you in lot a good idea

-Contiously splitting the rations food between you two saying you both didnt need much.

-Fights would be over simply the stupidest stuff like

-who gets the last shrimp Tempra at the table

-offering each other the last one as a peace greeting and then fighting over who gets it, Inosuke ends up eating it

-Two of you laughing out loud as the agurement was such a stupid yet funny momment

-your willing to protect a demon

-Your Nezuko's pillow as well now

-Tanjiro likes braiding your hair, or simply messing with it he says its soft.

- same bath cuddles are a must

-he washes your back if you wash his

-when your sick he does everything for you

-his crow and your dove are in love

-Haori's are so nice to wear together

-When he kisses you in the cold it warms you up so much it makes you go OwO

-his lips are soft yet his hands are a bit ruff from training, but still you love it

◇¿Zenitsu¡◇

-he's baby

-he was terrifed of you at first because you beat the hell out of Inosuke with Inosukes own swords

-he thinks you're full of imperfections, which he has alot of! He thinks that's what made the two of you connect so good!

-when you hug him he's all flushy

-most likely is related no one bc u a lone wolf

-cuddles are a must at night

-zenitsu loves your kisses, he thinks there perfect

-occasional ass slap when he passes by

-he becomes really flustered at anything you do to him, especially infront of the guys

-remember his Haori?! With doritos all over it?! Yeah he thru that out just so he could wear yours

-keeps saying he'd change himself If you ever lost love for him

-you show him you love him by- wait untill those scenarios

-Tanjiro is his best friend, while Nezuko and Inosuke are yours

-one time you totally broke every bone in your body due to a demon, and Zentisu went Thunder clap crazy on that demon sucker

-force him to stay healthy and exercise

-you're his strong point, so no wuss-ing out.

-you're also his weak point so stuff can get emotional

-again kisses and hugs

-a lot of spooning he's the small one and you the big one

●Inosuke●

-constant I'm better lover war

-he gets jealous easy

-he grabs you and runs off with you randomly

-he's stunned by your sudden lifting up his masks and kissing him

-you also wear a mask, a blank one with nothing on it, but two black dots for eyes

-Zenitsu's scared of you

-big boob

-Inosuke doesn't under the concept of boob so- he kinda just pokes or grabs them randomly when your in his way.

-your not a big eater

-your also a big sleeper

-"hey! Y/n! I could-" "IS SHE SLEEPING NOW!?! SERIOUSLY?!"

-Inosukes lays on your back while you do push ups to show dominace.

-he gets yeeted off your back with ease

-when your mad at him he gets really soft

-is actually extremly soft, blushy, and day

-kinda likes when your dominate (OkAY WrOnG Set Of ScEnErIoS)

-likes when your kisses are soft and breath taking, likes that fact that he can't open his eyes for a mintue afterward and Will have to just lay there to take it in

-loves your back rubs

-likes when ya'll train together

♤Rui♤ (had to do my beat Demon boi)

-really confused

-kinda rude

-but you saved him, how could he not feel this way, how did he even feel this way

-illegal?/Forbbiden? Relationship?

- Pillar Woman or whatever you'd like to be known as

-actually Kagaya's daughter

-pure hearted

-he wonders why constantly you like to be near him

-but when you kissed him he fell really deep

- he never clinged to someone so hard

- he cried first kiss

-After all the emotion first kiss stuff you both laid in the grass and watched the moon dance with the stars

- he literally is just happy if you lay with him

-you tend to mess with his hair a lot

-one time you wanted to sit in the sun so you laid on the sunny grass while he sat at the edge of the shade in the trees

-hand holdings are a must

-he's into anything your into he just wants to spend time with you

-unlike our- other- characters when he was fighting Tanjiro, he knew he was going to die but kept fighting for you

-you'd save him from dying causing you to die

-sad momments

-he sat there until moring, letting himself burn to ash and left your body behind as a whole

-you'll see him in heaven

-reunited kiss scene

-spend the rest of your lives, dead or alive together

[metoo-desu]

whatever it takes 

shinobu x fem!reader - soulmate au

contains spoilers

approx. 4,500 words sheesh

Two small figures trudged down the mountain side-by-side in silence, admiring the quiet night after slaying a rather strong demon that terrorized a town below. They stopped at a clearing to rest for awhile and to take care of each other’s injuries.

“Isn’t the moon beautiful?” Shinobu hummed, watching her partner slather a salve over a gash on her pale leg. She smiled at the gentleness of y/n’s touch— the Light Pillar had always been so caring and gentle towards her after they had acknowledged their feelings for each other. 

No reply, instead the h/c-haired slayer asked for a roll of bandages and then getting back to tending Shinobu’s wounds. After she finished up, y/n turned her back to her, removing her white and black-spotted haori and unbuttoning her uniform to reveal her bare and bloodied back to Shinobu, who let out a disapproving sound. It was Shinobu’s reckless move that had y/n receive such a nasty wound. Shinobu failed to see that the demon performed a Blood Demon Art towards her instead of y/n, who acted quickly and jumped in and took the hit. 

With how silent her partner was and the hesitation she heard behind her, y/n knew that Shinobu was looking back into the fight and blaming herself for what happened. The Light Pillar lifted her head, her white fur headpiece tickling her cheeks from the movement. E/c eyes searched the sky for the moon that Shinobu mentioned earlier, but only saw twinkling stars. 

“Liar. The moon isn’t even out,” y/n spoke softly to snap Shinobu out of her guilty conscience. She looked over her shoulder, giving her a gentle smile. “And don’t blame yourself.”

“If I had just paid attention, you wouldn’t have been hurt.” 

Shinobu started to tend y/n’s wound with a frown as she popped a cork off of a small gourd and began pouring the contents on her wound to wash the blood away. It was such a deep gash, the Insect Pillar would have to stitch it up. Pulling out her stitching kit, she immediately began the procedure. 

“If I was fast enough, I would’ve been able to turn to deflect the attack. I lacked speed that moment— my fault, not yours,” y/n argued. 

“Y/n..”

“How about we were both at fault? Yeah? It was tough fight after all. We should be ashamed it took two Pillars to defeat a Lower Moon.”

Shinobu chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re right, let’s agree to disagree.” 

From then on, the ladies continued their descent after their rest. Shinobu stayed quiet the whole time, occupied with her thoughts, concerning y/n. The Light Pillar stopped in her tracks and took Shinobu’s hand. 

“What’s the matter?” 

Y/n‘s eyes bore into Shinobu’s violets, “I should be asking you that, silly. Are you still blaming yourself?” 

“What? I was just thinking about..,” Shinobu trailed off, her eyebrows furrowed as she thought deeply. “I was wondering who could it be. It seems that your rose is almost at full bloom.” 

Shinobu meant y/n’s soulmate mark. A delicate rose tattoo at the front of her left shoulder, that blooms until she would meet her star-fated lover. Y/n honestly forgot about the mark, too busy with work and her feelings for Shinobu. 

“Is it now?” Y/n mumbled, placing her hand over her uniform that covered her mark. “That’s unfortunate. That would mean my time with you may be nearing its end. Or not.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Shinobu with the last comment, hinting that she would continue their affair despite meeting her soulmate. 

“Don’t. I’ve heard cases that soulmates share pain whether it’s physical or emotional. A betrayal towards the other will cause both to go through an excruciating pain for trying to defy the stars. They can die from it.”

Y/n looked up at the sky for the second time again, “Well, curse the stars. I’d go through any type of pain just to be with you. Whatever it takes. If it’s the only way, I’ll go through it.”

“I don’t want to see you in such state,” Shinobu huffed out. “We’ve agreed not to be together because of our work. And because it’s considered scandalous and immoral.”

“We’ve agreed, but did it stop our growing feelings for each other? Because where I see it, the more it grows, the more painful it will be to be with my soulmate.”

Shinobu retracted her hand and walked away, y/n right at her heels. “Exactly, we’re already in too deep. We have to put a stop to this.”

Y/n chose not to continue the argument. There was no way to change Shinobu’s mind. Either way, it’s going to be painful for her, whether she chooses to be with her soulmate or Shinobu because both endings will just lead her to losing the Insect Pillar. 

Unless if she makes it in time. 

“The moon is beautiful,” she finally replied to Shinobu’s words. 

But the stars aren’t. 

✧˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧

“Hey, moth girl! You good?” 

Inosuke shouted over his shoulder as he dealt with the wave of demons that seemed never-ending. Y/n scoffed at the use of the nickname the pretty boy assigned her during their current situation. Just because her outfit resembled of the white ermine moth and her Light Breathing Style, didn’t mean she wanted to be called that. He knew her name, why does he keep using ‘Moth girl’?

“Did Muzan bring the whole demon population in this freaky fortress because it seems like it!” Y/n growled, skillfully taking down thirteen demons in a short amount of time. “Come on! We have to get to the others fast so we can take down that son of a bitch!”

The boar-headed slayer killed the last demon and caught up with y/n. “Who is this Moron anyways?” he asked, mispronouncing the world’s very first demon’s name.

Well technically, he wasn’t wrong.

“The man that plagued us with demons! Damn it, there’s so many turns! What kind of fortress is this? It seems impossible to reunite with everyone! There’s no way that Muzan would have a shortcut to anywhere!”

“Ha! I can make a shortcut to anybody!” Inosuke puffed out his chest and laughed rather cockily. 

He stabbed the wooden floor with his katanas and held his arms out. Y/n didn’t question his actions and just took down the demons that charged towards them before they could disturb Inosuke’s form. The boy jumped up on his feet and grabbed his katanas before sprinting down the hall without a word to y/n. 

“The hell, Inosuke!” The Light Pillar quickly decapitated the demon she held off, wanting no time to be wasted, she ignored the rest of them to run after the boy. They were stopped at a dead end and y/n stared at the back of the boar mask in annoyance. “Well so much for finding a shortcut.”

“I didn’t say I can find a shortcut, I said I can make one! Behind this wall is a demon slayer, I betcha!” 

And then he began striking the wall with his katanas with all of his strength. Y/n groaned, turning around, ready to slay the last of the demons she left once they catch up to them. As their footsteps neared, she tightly gripped the hilt of her sword. 

“Sixth Form: Blinding Light.”

The moment the demons turned the corner, she swung her sword twice. First, at their eyes and the second to decapitate them while on their dazed state. 

“GRRRRAAAAH!” Inosuke finally broke through the wall, the two jumping into action and joining whoever was in the room. “Out of the sky, Lord Inosuke comin’ in!” Inosuke announced. Seeing the suspicious flying petals, he quickly performed Fifth Fang: Mad Cleave. 

Once the area cleared of the petals, the two landed safely beside Kanao, the Light Pillar checking up on the girl as the Inosuke eyed the demon before them, identifying him as the Upper Moon Two. 

Inosuke finally noticed Kanao’s presence and began scolding her about being beat up. “Shinobu’ll get really mad at you! And she gets really angry!” 

The Light Pillar brushed past Inosuke, staring at the two katanas beside the Upper Moon before her eyes met with the demon’s numbered, rainbow ones. The owner of the familiar and unique katana was nowhere to be seen. 

“Is Shinobu...dead?” Y/n heard Inosuke ask Kanao. 

There was ringing in her ears as she felt her heart break in two and a wave of strong emotions crashing down on her like a tsunami. Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered all the moments she had with Shinobu, the woman she loves. 

✧˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧

It was a laughable situation to y/n. The first time she was taken to the Butterfly Estate, she mocked the name of it. The reason why she was taken there was because of her grave injuries after battling a strong Lower Moon. 

Even in her state, she managed to laugh at the name but when the master of the estate walked into the room, she immediately shut her mouth. 

Maybe the reason of the estate’s name was because of the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach, caused by the insane beauty of this lady. 

“Hi, you must be l/n y/n! I heard you recently became a Pillar after a scary fight against a Lower Moon. Congratulations!”

“Is that how you normally greet your patients?” Y/n nervously swallowed, afraid that an actual butterfly might fly out of her throat with how strong the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach. 

The purple-haired beauty sat beside the bed after setting her medical equipments down on the bedside table. “I’m Kochou Shinobu, the Insect Pillar. I’m excited to be the first of the Pillars to welcome the newest addition! Now let’s take a look at your injuries, sure it won’t be that bad seeing that you can manage to sit upright!”

“Actually,” y/n panted, unable to keep up with her Total Breath Concentration, “I think I’m dying..”

She fainted right there and then. 

“Oh my.”

*.*.*.*.*.*

“Are you confessing your love to me?” 

Y/n turned to Shinobu with a grin plastered on her face. The two sat at the engawa, gazing at the stars as they drank tea when Shinobu shared a phrase with a hidden meaning. What the Insect Pillar didn’t know, y/n was a lover of poems and literature, so she knew of the beautifully hidden message. 

“Whatever do you mean, y/n?” Shinobu blushed, embarrassed that the Light Pillar caught her. “I was just saying the moon was beautiful.”

“I don’t think so,” y/n deadpanned, watching the slightest downward twitch at the corners of her lips as Shinobu mistook her answer as a rejection.

Y/n purposely let a moment of silence before she spoke again. “I don’t think you meant it literally but poetically. Just so you know, I’m quite aware of the hidden message,” she teased, leaning closer to Shinobu, watching her uncharacteristically get flustered under her gaze. 

“Feeling the butterflies yet?” Y/n asked her, seeing how uneven Shinobu’s breathing was as pink tainted her cheeks adorably. “That’s payback for when we first met.”

Shinobu tried so hard to keep her cool, but seeing that y/n’s gaze was now on her lips, she just couldn’t. How embarrassing that she had caught onto the phrase so quickly, but now knowing that y/n had good tastes in literature, she was even more attracted to her. The Insect Pillar was also rather speechless at the forwardness of y/n. 

“Also, it’s a new moon tonight,” y/n whispered, their noses were nearly touching. She waited to see if Shinobu would push her away, but she saw that she inched closer as well.

“But it is quite beautiful.”

Slender fingers reached up to the sides of y/n face before Shinobu closed the distance between them and crashed her lips with hers. 

*.*.*.*.*.*

Y/n looked up at Shinobu, who straddled her, both lacking of their uniform and undergarments. As beautiful as she was in y/n’s eyes in their current circumstance, her breath was caught in her throat by the tears that suddenly streamed down Shinobu’s face. She reached up and wiped them away, y/n’s voice trembled as she attempted to comfort her love. 

“I’m sorry. If I could rewrite the stars, I would.” 

Shinobu covered y/n’s hand and leaned into her touch. She whimpered, “It’s not fair. It seems like the world is taking away everyone I love from me. My family. And now you?”

The Insect Pillar has finally learned of y/n’s soulmate mark. 

“The world isn’t fair. The stars aren’t either.” This time, it was y/n’s turn to cry. 

Y/n never really believed in soulmates, she had completely cut off the idea of any kind of love after her whole family had been killed by a demon. She didn’t want to get attached to people, scared she might lose them in any way. 

That is until she met Shinobu. Her love for the lady was unexpected. She never thought she would be attracted to someone of her own gender. But their love was the type that was looked down upon in the society, considered it immoral for two females to love each other romantically. 

Their line of work, the society, and y/n’s soulmate mark kept the two ladies from going further into their relationship, having to keep their affair a secret. 

It was hard for both of them. 

“I’m here, Shinobu. I’m still here. I’ll always be. For you.” 

That night, their sounds from their love was unheard by the world but seen by the unfair stars and the beautiful moon. 

✧˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧

It was like something had blown the flames out and ripped the wings off a moth that admired the beauty of the flame. 

Shinobu was gone. 

Y/n was too late to stop Shinobu from pulling through with her plan to poison the demon that killed Kanae. Now this demon that stood before her, smiled while he claimed that Shinobu was very much alive but just inside of him, off to a happy place. 

What a sick man. 

Inosuke acted out first, charging at the man angrily. “I’m gonna chew you up, you scum!”

“Don’t breathe the cold air he spreads!” Kanao warned him. 

Y/n controlled her breathing to calm herself down. She knew it was useless to act out of pure rage, Shinobu would have scolded her if she did so. It seemed Kanao knew more, not just because of her previous fight, but what Shinobu might have told her. Then not a moment later, Inosuke returned to them and handed Kanao her katana. 

“Don’t let him take it again,” he grumbled. “But what the hell are you doing, y/n?”

The Light Pillar looked down at him, making him freeze from the aura she gave off. Of course, other than Kanao, y/n was the closest to Shinobu. He often wondered what was going on between the two Pillars, then he realized he didn’t care. But with the death of Shinobu, he bet that it affected y/n the most out of the three of them. He can literally feel the rage coming from her.

“Nothing yet. I’ll let you tire Douma out, if that’s cool with you.” She put on a little façade, breaking her serious expression with a smirk. “Go crazy, Inosuke. I won’t let him kill y—“

Y/n gasped, taking a step and kicking the Upper Moon away when he almost closed in on them, disregarding the pain that erupted in her stomach. “Tire me out? I don’t think I lost a single ounce of energy even before you got here. Maybe because of that Shinobu girl? I don’t know, but I’m feeling real good right now!” Douma laughed airily, spreading his arms out.

She almost laughed. How long till it starts kicking in, she wondered. He won’t be feeling so good then. 

Inosuke charged at Douma once again, using a move that dislocated all his joints in his arms to get a longer range. When she said for him to go crazy, she didn’t really think he’d pull off a stunt like that. He managed to get a hit, though which was impressive. The boy returned, standing before them protectively.

“We’re gonna do whatever it takes to kill this man.”

“He’s fast. It’s going to be difficult to take him on with the range of his attacks,” Kanao told y/n, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s hard to get near him.”

“I can totally get near him,” Inosuke scoffed.

Y/n nodded. “We’ll keep attacking for now and at our own discretion, but if we’re ever stuck in a situation, follow my orders.”

They both watched cautiously, assessing Douma’s every move when Inosuke went after the upper demon after he stole his mask, waiting to see even just the slightest sign of the poison’s effects. 

The fight rolled out into a more personal matter about Inosuke’s mother. Finding out that this very demon was also involved with the loss of someone so important to Inosuke, something within her snapped. Y/n won’t let him take any more loved ones away! No way in hell was this bastard going to walk out of this room. 

While Kanao and Inosuke fought off his ice doll, she chased after Douma, swiftly dodging the vines and petals that were in her way. Y/n launched herself off from a vine as quick as she landed on it to avoid being frozen, her arms up high and katana in the air. 

“Second Form. Incandescent Strike.” 

Douma turned his head towards her right before she cut off his left arm along with his shoulder. Backing away would be a mistake as he would try to create more distance with his blood art. So she performed every form of her Breath of Light, the demon managing to block off all of the attacks with his fan even after he sent out more of his ice dolls to the teenagers. 

“Wow! You’re strong! Form after form after form!” The demon gushed in excitement, never having a demon slayer cut off one of his limbs. It was strange though. Usually, he would only feel a pinch from such a wound but why did it hurt? 

He tilted his head and looked down at her katana in curiosity. “How odd. There’s no trace of Wisteria poison on your blade. Even so, it wouldn’t have hurt.”

Y/n stifled a cry when she felt an unbearable pain on her left shoulder. Douma didn’t manage to land a single strike on her. Her eyes trailed down to his regenerating arm, a familiar tattoo slowly inking on his pale skin. 

A fully-bloomed rose. 

Douma followed her line of sight, and it was clear that the man rarely paid attention to the mark. “The last time I checked this weird mark was almost a hundred years ago. It was a barely a bud. Now it’s fully bloomed, I wonder what it means.”

“I know what it means, that cursed mark,” y/n whispered, a thousand thoughts running through her head. That explained the stomach pain she felt after she kicked him. 

The pillar didn’t react when Douma grabbed hold of her uniform and asked her to enlighten him, genuinely curious. Y/n must have imagined the slight fearful tone in his voice. She couldn’t blame him, she was afraid the moment she got it. Afraid of what would happen once it fully bloomed, and who she was assigned to be with her whole life. 

Once afraid, now enraged, y/n cursed the stars for the millionth time. Of all people, her soulmate had to be the demon that devoured her one true love. 

Douma clawed at her back, ripping through uniform and digging his nails into her skin to urge this pretty nobody to explain the meaning of the claimed cursed mark. The pain he inflicted on y/n was shared with him, feeling the same intense pain across his back.

“What is this?” 

“The mark of soulmates.”

It was all too much for y/n to handle. Everything came at her all at once— the death of Oyakata-sama, his wife and two daughters, and Muzan’s appearance. She lost Shinobu, then met her soulmate. The overwhelming emotions and pain took over her, making her fall limp in Douma’s hold. 

What is the point? She lost everything.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her look up at him. “Answer me. I don’t get it. Why are we fighting? Aren’t you supposed to be my lover?” 

Tears streamed down y/n’s eyes, Douma taken aback at the sight of how truly pretty she was. He felt a foreign feeling bubble up inside him. Was this love? How could this be? They’ve never even met. 

Her lips trembled as she spoke, “Forever.”

Until they die. 

Until they die.

Her vision turned black. Where Douma was supposed to be, there stood Shinobu. In all her beauty. She stared at her with sadness in her eyes. 

Did she watch everything from the heavens?  

Does she know?

“I could’ve stopped you, but I was too slow. Too late,” y/n immediately caved in to her, letting all her feelings out. “I could have saved you, Shinobu!”

Shinobu shook her head sadly, “I’m sorry.”

“I should be sorry! Not you! I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I’m sorry that it had to be him!” 

The Light Pillar sobbed into her hands. She felt a ghost of a touch on top of her head and around her body, feeling the familiar warmth of Shinobu’s embrace. 

“I’ve hurt you and made you go through such pain. I can’t ever forgive myself for it, but it was something I had to do,” Shinobu spoke softly, tears staining her cheeks. “The stars wrote you a destiny you truly do not deserve. You lost me, but that doesn’t mean you have nothing left to lose. Those who still have, are stronger than the ones that don’t.”

Y/n wrapped her arms tightly around Shinobu and cried into her chest. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

“Don’t let those children die.”

The images of Inosuke and Kanao flooded y/n’s mind. The bond they formed back in the Pillar training came to her, making her realize that these two literally forced themselves a spot in her heart from Inosuke’s constant nagging and Kanao’s silent stalking when Shinobu was busy. 

These children were still out there, fighting for their lives. 

Inosuke was right earlier. What the hell is she doing?

Y/n came back to her senses, finding herself latched onto Douma, her arms wrapped around his frame tightly. It surprised her that he hadn’t devoured her yet. Did time pass by during that vision? 

She heard Inosuke and Kanao cry out for her while they fought even harder to try to save her. The demon before her stood stock still, slowly processing the idea of soulmates. He heard her whisper, “To have someone to love by my side forever? Until we die?”

Y/n adjusted her hold on the katana, careful not to make any suspicious movements that would alarm Douma. She gripped onto the blade instead. Their distance from each other was too close for her to cut his head. Any other attacks would be futile with his regeneration, and their shared mark would just weaken her. There was only one way, and Kanao and Inosuke would have to finish it. 

Droplets of blood that didn’t belong to her landed on her as she pointed the blade toward his back. The lady smiled. The poison was finally taking effect. 

“Feeling the butterflies yet?” Y/n asked. She hugged him tighter, using all her strength not to drop the katana. 

Douma hummed, “Hm, is this how love feels?”

All y/n could think of was Shinobu. 

“Yes.” 

It’s painful. It’s going to be even more painful for him. 

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to make her final blow. There was no time for hesitation as it was the only time he’ll be weak. With quick movements, she reached for the hilt of her katana and pulled it towards her with all her strength, feeling the sun-kissed blade pierce through her.

At the same time, Douma quite literally melted into her ‘embrace’. Y/n tightly held onto sword with her bloodied hands to hold the demon down while he screamed out in pain from Shinobu’s poison and y/n’s betrayal. The ice dolls Kanao and Inosuke battled, shattered into pieces from Douma’s weakened state. 

“Y/n!” Both of them ran towards their senior after realizing this was it, their only moment to kill Douma.

Before they could close in on Douma, the upper moon performed a massive blood demon art to protect himself from the two. He tried to push y/n off of him, but the smallest movement of the blade caused another flare of the soulmate’s curse. 

“Forever until we die isn’t really forever, now is it?” y/n weakly chuckled.

Douma controlled himself from hurting y/n to avoid a new wave of pain. He growled into her ear, “Curse you, you wench.”

“No. Curse the stars.” 

Her eyes met with Kanao’s and Inosuke’s equally tearful ones, seeing the hesitation in their eyes. She gave them a warm smile and mouthed her orders. 

‘Do it.’ 

Whatever it takes. If it’s the only way, I’ll go through it.

✧˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧ ˳✧

Y/n looked up at the night sky in silence, feeling another one’s presence behind her yet she didn’t turn to look as she was mesmerized with how pretty the sky looked. But the stars seemed to look down on her almost tauntingly because of how stupid of a lady she was to defy them and the destiny they wrote for her.

She didn’t care since the full moon was present. If she stared at it long enough, the stars would disappear. 

“I think it’s my turn to ask.” The silence broken when y/n spoke. She turned to the figure, taking their hand in hers. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” 

The solemn expression on Shinobu’s face was replaced by a smile. For the first time, both of them shed tears of happiness. Nothing was in their way, they could finally love each other without any worries. No soulmate. No demons. 

Both of them were strong till the end, and will still continue to be in their new beginning because this time, they will write their own destinies. Forget about what the world thinks of their love for each other.

The moon witnessed how true their love was and they’re together now. That’s all that mattered.

“Yes. It is beautiful.” 

[thebutterflyestate]

movement 3

"Have you heard? ! Have you heard? ! Sumiyoshi-kun has a samurai for a visitor! How lucky of him, I heard he's hot!"

"Ehhh? Really?? I wish I could go to Kamado-san's House, only if his house weren't at top of the mountain!"

"I bet you could see the samurai, (Name)-chan! Since you deliver fruits to the Kamados! Tell us if he's hot!"

"Huh?" (Name) blinked. She was in a daze. She stared at her family's hired workers, the girl gatherers, while she was focusing on packing the fresh oranges in bundles, "Did you say something?"

"Geez, (Name)-chan! You've become out of it ever since last month! No demon will hurt you anymore, ok? You were saved, after all." The oldest of the three clapped the girl's back. (Name) staggered on her spot and pouted.

"I know, I know... And what were you both saying earlier?" She asked, curiously.

"We were saying that there's a rumor that a samurai is currently residing with the Kamados at the mountain!" The oldest answered. Her name was Chiyo and she was the loudest of them. Next to her was her cousin, Yan, who was more quiet but cheery.

(Name) furrowed her brows, she placed a hand on her cheek and spoke softly," Oh? Really? The Kamados sure are odd, inviting a stranger into their home. Last rumor I heard from them was that Suyako-san fell asleep on the road."

"I can't argue with that." Yana chuckled, "Anyway, (Name)-san, if you're going to deliver to the Kamados today...please scope out for us. See if that samurai is hot..."

"EH? ! No! I'm only going there to deliver the fruits since Suyako-san is having a baby!" (Name) shook her head, her face turning pink. Deep within her, she was thinking that it was Yoriichi who was residing in the Kamados but then again, the said family invites whoever into their home. It was only wishful thinking that she'd see the handsome samurai again.

Her mind started to wander again to Yoriichi, reminding herself of her debt and his perfect face. She could feel herself get excited, her face turning a shade darker at the thought. Yana and Chiyo were staring at her, eyes narrowed curiously. The latter flicked the girl's forehead, resulting her to throw her head back for a second.

"Ow!" (Name) placed a hand over her temple, rubbing where it hurts, "What-what the heck!"

"Were you tinking of something lewd, (Name)-san?" Yana asked, "You looked estatic for a second there."

"I wasn't..."

"You're thinking of the guy who saved you, am I right? Who was that? Uh, Moriichi Suchikuni??" Chiyo arched a brow.

"N-no! It' Tsugikuni Yoriichi-san!" And how-how did you two know! I don't remember telling a story about that!" She exclaimed, embarrassed.

"Your father was ranting about you and that samurai guy that saved you, you know. I think that was a few days ago or so. Hey! Maybe he's the samurai with Sumiyoshi-kun?" Chiyo smirked, hands on her waist while reading the expression on the orchard heiress' face. (Name) looked hopeful but then it her face blanked.

" No, no. It cannot be him..." She replied meekly," It's too much of a coincidence. "

" Coincidence? Hah, that's bullshit! I bet it's him!" She barked. Yana nodded in agreement.

"Maybe if you two are meant to be, you'll meet again, for sure." She said, smiling softly at the girl who pouted and finished up with her packing.

"I don't believe in destiny or fate either..." She said, hosting her new woven basket and filling it up with the fruit deliveries. The two older women helped her wear it, "Anyway, I'll be back!"

"Sure, dear! Come back before dawn, ok! You know that or else your dad might start a riot and a party search again!" Chiyo laughed, Yana retreated back into the house then returned with a necklace. It was a necklace made out of the vines of wisteria, in the middle of it was a small puch filled with wisteria powder.

" Do not forget your charm, (Name)-san. Your mother will go ballistic." Yana said, putting the necklace on the girl's neck. The necklace was made a day after she was attacked by a demon. After that, she was required to wear it everyday to work or if she's going outside even tough it would completely throw off her kimono.

(Name) bowed and smiled at them before leaving through the back door of the orchard. She was immediately greeted by the farmers that live next door to them and she shyly greeted them back as she walked down the stony path. She went into the village prper to deliver the goods then to the markets and then to the houses of their loyal customers.

It took a while since she was carrying such a heavy load but it grew lighter with every delivery she made. Until it was time for her to deliver to the Kamados. She didn't know why she felt nervous, even though she had climbed the moutain to the charcoal family's home a couple of times. Maybe it was because she was hopeful to see that it was Yoriichi who were with them. Yet a part of her was telling her that why should she be happy to see him? For what reason? Because he saved her once? Because she owe him her life? Yoriichi had already told her that she need not to repay her so for what reason was she hopeful for?

"I'm thinking too much..." (Name) sighed to herself as she climbed the mountain. Thankfully, it was not winter so it wasn't as dangerous to go up the mountain. She trekked slowly and carefully, following the markers that the Kamados have left along the path. She saw the top of the Kamados house and she sighed in relief that she was close to finishing her deliveries. And because her frail legs were shaking like crazy already and her calves were stiffiening up.

However, at the last step, her legs gave and she fell back. Her eyes widen.

Someone had aught her by the waist and she looked up to see the silhouette of the person. The sun glared behind the person so she couldn't clearly see their face. Her heart began to pound against her chest, her face turned red, her stomach started to grow butterflies, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

'Could it be...?'

Judging from the figure, it was a man. A strong one at that. She could see the silhoutte of a pony tail. Hope bloomed within her.

"Tsugiku--"

"(Name)-chan! That was close! You nearly fell!" She was pulled back to her feet and she deadpan need. It was just Sumiyoshi, the charcoal maker. He beamed at her and she just gave an embarrassed look. he noticed her flushed face and tilted his head to the side," Is there something wrong? "

"U-uhm...no, the-there's charcoal on your face..." She pointed at her left cheek as an excuse. He chuckled and wiped his right cheek when in fact there was no charcoal smears, "A-Anyway, I have your fruits!"

"Oh, perfect! If that's the case, why don't you join us eat it, (Name)-chan? My wife and baby would definitely love your company!" He said, grinning. She couldn't reject the offer because one, she also wanted to see the samurai, and two, she wanted to see how Suyako and the baby in her stomach was doing. It has only been two weeks since they knew she was pregnant.

Sumiyoshi led the way around the house to the back where Suyako was found sitting on the engawa and sewing together a haori. She lifted her head up and beamed upon seeing (Name).

"(Name)-chan, my, you're here!" She stood up, putting her sewing to a halt, "I'll prepare you tea--oh! Did you actually come here to deliver our fruits?"

"Yes, Suyako-san." (Name) smiled and clumsily put her basket down and reached for the packaged fruits. She handed it to the woman while Sumiyoshi put her basket on the side for a while. Suyako unwrapped the packaged and  gasped.

"My, your family is really thriving! Your fruits look healthy and yummy!" She complimented and (Name) bashfully scratched her cheek.

"Oh, no... We just take good care of the orchard and the farm." She replied, she unconsiously looked around for their other visitor but then she turned back to the couple who were talking about what to prepare as snacks.

"Come on up here the engawa, (Name)-chan! In the meantime, I'll make us some snacks!" She said and the younger girl nodded as she got up on to the engawa and sat there next to the haori Suyako was working on. Sumiyoshi went back at the other side of the house, saying that he was chopping wood. (Name) wanted to ask if they had any other visitors but she was too shy to do so.

She sat in silence on the ngawa while winging her feet back and forth. She inhaled the fresh forest breeze and smiled. It was nice to be up the mountain surrounded by pure greenery. After a while, she could hear Suyako calling out to Sumiyoshi and she came out from behind (Name) while holding a bucket

"Dear, we don't have water for washing the cutlery any--oh, he isn't here." She said, spotting the girl only.

"Ah, he's on the other side, chopping wood by the front, I think." She replied softly, standing up, "I'll get the water for you!"

"Aw, my, thank you, sweetie." Suyako handed the bucket to her, "Just walk ahead the forest until you find a ditch. In that ditch, runs river water. A bucketful is fine, okay? Also, don't exhaust yourself! You know how your body is!"

(Name) bowed and waved at her, the woman smiled sweetly and retreated back in to attend to what she was making. (Name) hummed as she threaded through the foliage and she would look up occasionally to see the trees' canopy. Only few sunlight poured out because the trees covered most parts.

Ahead of her, she could hear the flowing of water. She grinned to herself but then froze when she heard a rustle close by. She paused to look around but found no signs of demons. Of course there would be no demons, it was broad day light. Maybe it was just  a wild animal. She breathed a sigh of relief before pressing on in a hurried manner.

Finally, she spotted the ditch SUmiko was telling her and hidden in between it was clear river water. She smiled and kneeled on to the ground, one hand laced against the soft soil to support her and one on the bucket's handle. She scooped up a bucketful but instantly regretted it because her noodle arm couldn't lift it up.

"Hnnng.. !" She tried lifting it up but her arm shook violently, the water spilling out of the bucket. She pouted and bent down again to scoop what water she lost. But she still couldn't lift it, "Why...am I...so weak... !"

She then grabbed the handle of the bucketful of water with both hands, her legs being the only support holding on to the ground. She felt her arms shake from the water's weight as she was slowly managing to lift it up. She beamed and cheered.

'I can do it... I can--'

"Do you need help? "

She flinched and let out a shocked gasp, she dropped the bucket and the bucket took her with it and she fell into the river. She quickly scrambled up, grabbing the bucket, and standing on the shallow water. She looked up to see Yoriichi. On his back was four heavy looking tree logs that were simply tied on to his person. He didn't have his haori on, meaning that the haori Sumiko was sewing earlier was him.

She gaped and turned red. While he was looking hot even in sweat, she was drench from head to toe like a lost kitten. Plus she was standing in the river with an empty bucket. He gave her one of his indifferent gazes, "Sorry..."

"I-i-i-it's okay! It's okay!" She stammered, getting herself out the ditch, he offered a hand and she looked at his calloused hands. She blushed and took it. He pulled her up with ease, scaring her a bit on how strong he was. He took the bucket from her and scooped up water," O-oh! Thank you!!"

He nodded and they silently walked back. (Name) felt a bit guilty that he carried her bucket despite the heavy load on his back but she was glad that it was indeed him who was the visitor of the Kamados. She wanted to ask why but kept it to herself.

" Oh, what happened to you, (Name)-chan? ! You're drenched!" Sumiyoshi spotted her as soon as they came out into the clearing, "Yoriichi-san! You're back! Thank you for helping out, both of you!"

"(Name)! What happened, did you fall in the river?" Suyako yelled from the engawa, "Come over here and get changed, we don't want you to get sick!"

(Name) smiled then she remembered that Yoriichi was carrying her bucket butbwhen she turned around, he had already given it to Yoriichi.

"Uhm, thank you for carrying that for me. I'm sorry for being weak." She bowed at the samurai who put down the logs on his back.

His hanafuda earrings swayed along when he shook his head, "You are not weak." He said, she blinked, "You were trying your best earlier, that is strength and not weakness."

She gaped her mouth open, her cheeks tinted pink at what he said. That was the first anyone told her such a thing. It was just a little effort yet he noticed.

She opened her mouth to speak but Suyako called her and when she turned, Yoriichi was already with Sumiyoshi.

"No one ever called effort as strength to me..."

[rifroleplays]

Shinju Maeda

Character Profile

Appeared in: 

Nothing, yet. This was a rejected character profile and I haven’t found anything suitable since. 

Prompt: 10 prompts given by @silhouette-of-a-dream​. Here are the first four prompts: Morning Routine, Responsibility, Family Curse & Winter Moments

1. Morning Routine

The Maeda household woke up at five, starting with the head of the house who would wash his face and dress, ready to train. Shinju would follow in second, to set the example for the rest of the house, but also to wake the ‘pages’, the pupils of her father that aimed to become a master. 

After washing her face both to wake herself and to get herself started she would dress in a hakama and a simple top before starting the morning training. First a warm up, then aikido, followed by archery or kendo, depending on the training schedule and specialisation. 

Shinju had chosen archery, much to the dismay of her father. But she found solace in the aiming and the drawing of her bow, that moment of silence that surrounded her before the command to shoot was given. 

The morning training ended at seven, where she was expected to cool down and to meditate and receive her pointers for improvements from the head. Compliments from her father were rare, especially so aimed at her, but she knew that she was his pride. 

In her teen years she was expected to help out with the cleaning as well, but after her coming-of-age she was no longer considered to be a pupil anymore. Still, Shinju would remain, sometimes to help with the clean-up, other times to check up on sprains, or to give extra instructions to the younger pupils. 

After showering Shinju would have breakfast at half past seven. At eight she would pay respect to her grandparents, which was also consequently the morning meeting. Reports were given, inquiries exchanged. Every start of a new month a presentation plan was given as well, every quarter a new business analysis, once a year new goals were set as well as the financial analysis. All in all the meeting could last from a mere hour to the afternoon, depending on what day of the year it was and what was on the agenda. 

This was consequently also the time that Shinju’s true role within the family business started. The yearly reports, strategising, and the likes was where she was truly put in charge. If the morning allowed for it, if the meetings didn’t bleed into noon, Shinju would have the rest of the morning off until a string of meetings in the afternoon. Though, that by no way means that she could spend them at her leisure. Preparation and organisation was what followed, in which she prepared herself for whatever was scheduled later. 

Sometimes, in the off-season, or usually Wednesdays, Shinju could be found in the main dojo, for once doing what she truly desired to do. But those moments were so rare, they were often more of an exception than anything. 

2. Responsibility

“As the heir of the Maeda…”

Shinju could nearly dream those words, just as she could dream whatever was to follow. Yet, she didn’t show her disinterest or boredom, yet, she remained still and straight as she let the words reach her. 

“As I’m sure you are well aware of…”

Her grandmother’s continued teaching of filial piety was a familiar introduction, and Shinju could almost predict what the reason was for the opening, hands wringing into each other as she just wanted to get to the point. 

“Takeru is, as you know, from your mother’s side.”

Shinju felt cold as she was handed the picture. A male, of around her age, somewhat vaguely familiar, yet not. A bright smile, dark brown hair, he looked content with life, more than Shinju ever had felt with hers. 

“Well trained, well educated, with a good background and a distinguished sportsman.”

Her grandmother’s words barely sounded through her as Shinju tried to maintain her breathing, trying to keep herself from showing the dread that was forming from the depth of her stomach. 

“He will fill the gap that you leave when you take over. He can keep the Maeda relevant as a dojo while you focus on the business behind it.”

Her words stung, but Shinju could understand the reasoning. She didn’t have the talent with the sword. Even within archery she was considered to be somewhat average, barely able to maintain a spot on a national level. 

“Takeru has five brothers and he is the middle one. I hope you will meet him with an open mind, just as he is entering this relationship with an open mind.” 

Refusal was not an option, her grandmother made that implicitly clear to her and all Shinju could do was bow as she accepted the setup, her heart heavy as she realised that her life was forfeit before it even started. 

3. Family Curse

Every year, without fail, Shinju and her family would visit the Oyama shrine in Kanazawa to pay her respect to the Sengoku head of the Maeda and the one that brought the family the glory they enjoy today: Toshiie Maeda. Every year it was highly anticipated, for the family believed that even skipping it for one year would trigger a family curse. 

“The Maeda are not without their sins,” her grandfather spoke solemnly, “it is important that we remain humble and remember our clan’s origin.”

It was the first year that Shinju was to lead the ritual, dressed entirely in black simple robes on that chilly spring day. She was shivering each time the wind blew past her, but she would have to endure. Endure until the ritual was over. 

Every year, without fail, Shinju would have a fever dream after returning from the Oyama shrine. Though, that year that she led was the worst, for she fell ill for a week afterwards.

“A common cold,” the doctor had said after examining her, “best to leave her to rest and keep her warm,” sounded the advice. And they respected that. But her family thought differently of the source.

“Did you dream?” her father questioned her sternly and Shinju could only nod, delirious as she felt from the fever she ran. 

“Did you see him? Them?” he continued to press and Shinju could only draw a ragged breath in answer. 

The dream her father referred to; a dream of who they believed to be a Toshiie remorseful of his life in which he had taken so much, hadn’t come to her. Instead Shinju had dreamt of white foxes dancing around the shrine, as if luring her. However, every year without fail her family was convinced she had dreamt the standard dream. Why else would she run the fever if not because she was the next heir of their dojo? Her father had them in his youth as well, her grandfather had been plagued by them, her great-grandfather had them lasting through his whole life. 

Shinju decided to remain quiet instead, often feeling too awful to argue back, if she ever did. It was easier to have them believe that the Maeda sin had passed onto her, that the conscience of centuries of Maeda heads also rested upon her, instilling a duty to protect and glorify their old clan. Anything but a mischievous fox strangely vying for her affection. 

“Now that you have led the ritual you are truly ready to succeed,” her father had said, a smile on his lips. How rare that look of satisfaction was on his face, “I will inform your grandfather, he will be pleased to hear this.”

But Shinju wasn’t pleased at all. Not if she had to fall ill for the sake of her family and be glad for it. Not if the whole curse they supposedly carried was a bunch of bogus that didn’t affect her in the way her family wanted it to. 

4. Winter Moments

Winters in Kyoto didn’t tend to be cold. Rarely did it ever go below freezing point and for that Shinju was grateful, finding the single digit celsius degrees to be quite hard to withstand already. 

“Shinju?” her mother’s voice sounded, looking around the room before looking down at the floor, “you will ruin your eyes like that,” she laughed, the image of her daughter cuddled up under the kotatsu while doing some paperwork. 

“It is too cold,” Shinju responded, pulling the fabric of the kotatsu tighter around her, “and I’m not lying on my stomach,” she quickly informed. 

“You will hurt your back then,” her mother continued, but Shinju ignored it, knowing that she was actually being scolded for her posture. But there was no one who would actually admonish her, and the female knew that she could expect a great deal more clemency from her mother than anyone else. 

“Don’t you have the woolen haori your grandmother made you?” her mother continued to question, no doubt trying to coax Shinju out of her warm burrow and take a break. 

Rolling onto her back with a sigh the female abandoned the papers next to her as she looked up, demonstratively pulling out an arm. 

“Already wearing it,” she pouted, earning yet another laugh. 

“Oh dear, did I give birth to a little frog perhaps?” her mother jested, finally moving to close the door behind her, “I will prepare some ginger tea, but do sit up already, I really don’t want you to ruin your eyes like that.” 

Shinju could only sigh to herself, slowly peeling herself back into the open with a shiver. 

“Nope, too cold,” Shinju tells herself, crawling back in.