Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The smell of pain rice and a thin, watery stew drifts through the small Shinazugawa home, mixing with the faint scent of pine wood smoke. The kitchen is quiet, minus the hum of their mother moving from the stove to the table and back, her hands hardened from years of repetitive movements. There’s not much here- just simple bowls and worn utensils set out for the children- but she moves quickly, determined to make the little they have enough. 

You sit at the table, watching her. Though your own home is just a short walk away, it feels distant, colder. Here, warmth fills the small house despite the chill, and you cling to that warmth the best you can.

Sanemi’s mother glances over her shoulder at you, her voice soft but careful as she asks, “Y/N, are your parents home?”

A dull embarrassment grows in your stomach. You look down, tracing a small scratch on the tabletop. “No… they still haven’t come back from yesterday,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her face softens, but there’s a flicker of sadness in her eyes, a look you see her wear often. She nods, accepting your answer without question, and stirs the pot a few more times, lost in thought. You know the Shinazugawa’s don’t have much to spare, yet she always finds a way to make room for you at their table.

After a while, she serves the stew, careful to give you and Sanemi just enough. He plops down beside you, with a soft sigh. He watches as you eat happily, savoring every small bite, and a warmth grows in his chest. 

Once the two of you finish cleaning the table, he catches your eye, his expression a bit softer than usual. “Come on,” he says, his voice lower. “I’ll walk you home. We’ll see if your parents came back.”

You follow him outside, the sky growing dark and a bit cooler while you walk together down the familiar path. He stays close by, hands tucked into his pockets as he keeps an eye out.

When you reach the riverbank, you take a wrong step and stumble, your foot sinking deep into the mud. It seeps between your toes, and without thinking, you glance down at your clothes- mud now streaking across the thin fabric.

Frustration and embarrassment hits you all at once. The tears start before you can stop them, a few slipping down your cheeks as you try to brush the mud off in vain.

Sanemi is beside you in an instant. Without a word, he steps into the river, crouching down to help wash the mud from your feet, his movements careful as he lifts the edge of your skirt from the cold water. He’s only a year older, but sometimes, he feels like an entire lifetime wiser.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he says softly, his tone slightly rough but reassuring. “It’s just mud. I’ll clean it off. See? It’s okay?”

“M-M-My grandpa gave me these clothes. I don’t want them to be ruined,” you shake your head.

“God, Y/N, do you ever listen?” he hums as he splashes a bit of water onto the bit of your skirt that got muddy. “It’ll be alright, I promise.”

Sniffling, you look down at him. “Sanemi… do you think you’ll like your new sibling?”

He pauses, glancing away as he stands back up. “I dunno,” he shrugs. “I’m used to being the only one,” he admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But I’m sure I’ll like them alright.”

“Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

“Why the sudden questions?” Sanemi chuckles, the sound warm in your ears. “I hope it’s not a sister. I’ve got enough trouble with you.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, and he smiles, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek, his hand gentle. He casts a look back toward your home, frowning slightly when he sees no sign of light or movement from inside.

“Doesn’t look like they’re home,” he murmurs, sighing as he turns to you again. “Wanna come back to mine?”

You nod, relief flooding through you as he offers his hand, leading you back up the path to his house.

A few years later, at the age of seven, you still find your way to the Shinazugawas’ house almost every day. Genya is almost four now, and he tags along beside you wherever you go with a shy smile that seems to be just for you.

Today, you sit cross-legged on the floor, playing a hand-clapping game with Sanemi while Genya and his younger sister, Sumi, watch with wide eyes, as if entranced by the rhythm of the clapping.

Just as you’re about to start a new round, the door bursts open. Instinctively, you all freeze and glance toward the entrance where a tall figure looms. Sanemi shifts quickly, placing himself between you and the doorway, his arm held out protectively.

Luckily for this time, it isn’t your father here to collect you again.

It’s his.

The scent of alcohol wafts through the air as Sanemi’s father stumbles in, his expression dark and eyes glazed. He sways, muttering something under his breath, his voice rough and harsh, and his presence seems to fill the small room with an oppressive weight. 

Just as the Shinazugawas’ mother steps in and the tension in the room thickens, you look over at Genya and feel him start to tremble beside you. Gently, you take his smaller hand in yours, giving him a reassuring smile. “Hey, Gen,” you whisper softly, “do you want me to paint your nails again? Looks like it’s all chipped off.”

He glances at you, wide-eyed, then nods, sniffling a little as he extends his other hand toward you as well. You pull out the small bottle of black polish you keep with you and begin painting, each careful stroke helping to calm him down. As you work, he relaxes, watching the brush move back and forth, the soft, repetitive motion soothing him.

By the time his nails are done, their father has stormed back out, leaving an uneasy silence behind. Their mother exhales deeply, her gaze softening as she looks at you and Sanemi, holding Sumi in her arms.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “And Sanemi… both of you are so good to the younger ones.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Thank you… for everything you do, too. It’s the least I can do.”

Genya, now calm, gives you a quick hug, his small arms wrapping around you tightly. You laugh softly, patting his head as Sanemi gives you a grateful smile. 

Two years later, you sit cross-legged on the floor, carefully painting Genya’s nails, each stroke precise and practiced. He’s only six now, but he takes this ritual seriously, holding still as he watches you with admiration. Just as you finish the last nail, he remembers something and starts to squirm.

“Wait- Y/N!” he says, scrambling to reach into his pocket. “I got you something!”

“Genya, don’t move yet!” you scold gently. “You’ll mess up the paint.”

But it’s too late and he’s already pulled out a small, smooth stone, holding it out to you with a proud grin. “I found this… thought it was pretty, so I wanted you to have it.”

Your smile widens as you take the stone and thank him. Before you can say anything else, Sanemi walks over and ruffles his younger brother’s hair, teasing, “Genya, stop flirting. Y/N’s too old for you.”

Genya’s cheeks turn bright red, and you can’t help but laugh as Sanemi shakes his head, throwing you a playful smirk. “She’s closer to my age anyway. Only a year younger.”

The way he looks at you, his eyes glinting with mischief, makes your heart skip a beat. But just as your lips part to reply, the door slams open, jolting all of you as both your parents storm into the home. Their faces are twisted in anger, voices loud as they confront Sanemi and Genya’s mother, who steps back in shock.

“What do you think you’re doing, taking our daughter from us yet again?” your mother snaps, glaring at her. “She doesn’t belong to you!”

Their mother stands firm, her voice trembling but defiant. “It isn’t right to leave her home alone all the time! She deserves to be safe!”

Sanemi moves without hesitation, stepping between you and your parents. “Leave her alone, what do you care, anyway?” he says, his voice strong, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Little brat,” your father scoffs. “Is that what you plan on turning our daughter into, Shizu?”

While they continue to argue, you cling onto the back of Sanemi’s shirt, your heart pounding as the argument escalates, tears slipping down your cheeks. It’s never gone this far before… Genya grabs onto your arm, clinging just as tightly, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.

Sanemi turns to you, his expression pained but steady. He places his hands on your shoulders. “No matter what happens, you can’t stay with them,” he says, voice shaking with a mix of desperation and determination. “Get out of there, Y/N. I’ll find you… but you should go.”

You shake your head, sobbing as you bury your face against his chest. “I don’t want to go.”

He hugs you tightly, his voice breaking. “I don’t want you to go either, Y/N. But you deserve so much more.” He pulls back slightly, looking at you, his eyes filled with a quiet promise. “You have to. Run away, Y/N, run away. I’ll find you.”

Before another word can pass between either of you, your mother grabs your arm and yanks you out of their grip, scolding you for being near “those dirty boys”. Your father sneers at Sanemi, voice dripping with venom as he snaps, “You’ll never see her again, filth.”

Genya clutches his brother’s hand, eyes filled with disbelief, as they watch from the doorway. Your cries fill the evening air as you’re dragged from their home, leaving behind the only family that ever made you feel truly safe. 

After that day, Sanemi and Genya didn’t see you again.

At first, both boys held onto hope that you’d somehow find a way back. Their mother often watched the road to see if you’d appear, clutching her hands together in worry as days slipped into weeks. 

Sanemi spent many restless nights wondering if you were safe, wondering if your parents had taken you far away or if you had managed to escape. Sometimes he’d imagine you’d run off of your own, hiding in the forests beyond the mountain, waiting for the right time to return.

Genya, too, would ask about you constantly, glancing down the road with his heart in his throat, hoping for a glimpse of you. 

But soon enough, that hope begins to fade. When your parents return a week later, angrily asking around the village if anyone had seen you, a chill crept into the hearts of the Shinazugawa family. They all heard the rumors, the whispers of Y/N running off, a “problem child” who simply didn’t want to be found. It seemed as though you had disappeared without a trace, leaving the family you’d once called home to worry in silence.

Chapter Text

The mountain air is sharp and cool, and the scent of wet earth carries into your nose the second you step outside. It’s so quiet here- just the rustling of trees, the occasional call of birds, and the distant echo of the stream that runs along the edge of your grandfather’s home.

When you first arrived, you thought the silence would swallow you whole.

Your Grandpa Urokodaki’s house is small and old- not unlike him- tucked into the trees like it’s been here forever, just waiting. He doesn’t say much, and when he does speak, it’s in this calm, careful voice, like he’s measuring each word. At first, you can’t tell if he’s just quiet or if he doesn’t want you here.

He hands you a bowl of warm miso soup that first night, setting it down in front of you with a small nod. You wipe the remainder of your tears from explaining to him why you’re here, and you want to eat- you know you should. But every time you think of Genya or Sanemi, a dull ache settles in your stomach, and the spoon feels like it weighs a thousand pounds in your hand.

You can still hear Genya’s voice, see the way his face would light up when you painted his nails, and you can almost feel Sanemi’s hand resting on your shoulder, the way he promised he’d find you.

But he hasn’t. And he won’t. It’s too far. Even if he came looking, he’d never find you here.

You pick up the spoon again, bringing it to your lips, but as soon as you taste the broth, a wave of nausea hits you and you set it back down, your hands trembling slightly. You don’t know why it’s so hard to eat, but the thought of swallowing even a single sip makes you feel worse.

Your grandpa watches you with an unreadable expression. Then he sighs, sitting down across from you, his own bowl untouched. 

“It’ll hurt for a while,” he says quietly. “Losing family… even when they are still alive… it’s not easy to carry.”

You don’t say anything, but his words settle into the silence between you, lingering heavy and soft. Somehow, he knows. He knows exactly how it feels, and though he doesn’t say much, you can tell he understands.

For the first few days, it’s like this. Your grandpa offers you food, each meal simple and carefully prepared, but you can barely stomach it. Every time you lift the spoon, your mind drifts back to Sanemi and Genya, to the warmth of the Shinazugawa home, and that strange, empty ache rises up again, making it impossible to eat.

Your grandpa doesn’t push you, but each time he notices you struggling, he places a gentle hand on your shoulder and tells you, in his steady way, “It will get easier.”

It’s a small comfort, but you hold onto his words and repeat them to yourself when the sadness feels too heavy to bear.

Days turn into weeks and eventually, you fall into a rhythm in your new home. You wake up before dawn to the sound of your grandpa moving through the house, his footsteps light but deliberate as he prepares for his day. 

He keeps you busy with small tasks- sweeping the floors, washing rice, gathering firewood, carrying water from the stream nearby.

The tasks are relatively new to you, and at first, you fumble your way through them, feeling rather clumsy. But he never scolds, only watches you patiently, occasionally offering a soft-spoken instruction to help you along. 

Your grandpa doesn’t ask much of you, but he watches, studying the way you adapt to each new task he throws your way. Some days, when he leaves to gather supplies or check the village, you just sit in the doorway, gazing down the mist-covered trail that leads to the world below. In the back of your mind, you hold onto a quiet hope that maybe, somehow, Sanemi and Genya will appear at the bottom of the mountain, calling your name.

They never come. And each time you walk back inside the house, the reality settles a little more deeply in your chest. You may never see them again.

Months blur into years, and slowly, you have stopped looking for Sanemi and Genya. You’re eleven now, and you’ve learned the mountain’s twists and turns, its trails and hiding spots. You know which flowers bloom in each season and where to find the clearest stream water. You’ve learned your grandpa’s routines by heart, and he’s even started letting you climb higher trails with him, showing you how to listen to the forest and watch for signs of danger.

One day, as you’re carrying a bundle of wood back to the house, you hear it- a strange, low growl that sends a chill through you. You stop and glance around, your heart pounding as you clutch the bundle tighter. There’s a rustling in the bushes just beyond the trail, and you feel your pulse racing as you step back, trying to keep quiet.

Before you can make a sound, something- someone- lunges out from the trees. A man, hunched and snarling, his skin pale and stretched, his eyes wide and empty, like he’s not fully… human.

You scream, dropping the wood as you stumble back, tripping over a root. He moves fast- too fast- and for a terrifying moment you are frozen, staring up at him with your back against the ground.

And then, a shadow sweeps in- your grandpa. He’s there in an instant, his blade flashing as he moves between you and the monster, slicing through the air with deadly precision. The creature lets out a strangled cry before disappearing right before your eyes.

Your grandpa turns to you, his eyes serious as he kneels and grips your shoulders firmly. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, too shocked to speak, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes. “What… what was that?”

He sighs, a weight settling over his expression as he looks at you. “A demon,” he says simply. “They aren’t common here, but… they’re real. And they are dangerous.”

You sit there, trembling, trying to make sense of it all. You had heard stories, whispered tales of creatures lurking in the dark back when you lived with your parents, but you never really thought much of them. Now, the reality of it sits heavy on your chest, filling you with a fear you’ve never felt before.

Your grandpa stands and extends a hand to help you up. “Y/N,” he says, his tone steady. “From now on, I will teach you how to fight. How to protect yourself. I’ve kept you safe until now, but it’s time you learn.”

You look at him, heart pounding, a mix of fear and something else- a flicker of determination. For years, you’ve leaned on others for strength. Perhaps now you can find some strength of your own.

The following morning he hands you a wooden training sword, explaining how to hold it, how to stand, how to shift your weight. His instructions are firm, unyielding, like the mountain itself. Each movement feels awkward, unfamiliar, but he doesn’t let you stop, pushing you to repeat the motions until your arms ache.

Days bleed into weeks, and soon, your days are filled with endless repetitions- swinging, blocking, striking. Grandpa watches you closely, offering corrections with that same quiet patience as always, even when you mess up.

One day, as you’re practicing a basic stance, he steps beside you, adjusting your grip. “When you hold the sword,” he murmurs, his voice low, “it should feel like an extension of yourself. Let it become a part of you.”

You nod, focusing, trying to feel the weight of the sword, the way it moves with your body. There are bruises on your arms now, scratches on your hands, and every night you collapse into bed, too exhausted to think about much else. But with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more sure of yourself.

Grandpa doesn’t tell you, but you can sense his approval, the way he watches you with the faint glimmer of pride when you get a movement just right. And slowly, the mountain becomes more than just a place of loneliness- it becomes a place of growth, a place where you can learn to stand on your own.

That evening, after a grueling training session, you sit on the steps outside, watching the sun sink below the mountains. Your muscles ache, your hands sting, but there’s a quiet satisfaction that settles over you. 

A purpose you haven’t known before.

And for the first time since you left your old home, you don’t feel quite so small.

Chapter Text

Some time has passed now since you began your training. Your days are filled with early morning runs, afternoons spent with endless sword swings, and nights spent nursing bruises and sore muscles. It’s exhausting but satisfying, and each day you can feel yourself grow stronger.

Today, you’re practicing on a small path near the river. You focus on each movement, just like Grandpa taught you: stance steady, arms relaxed but ready. You swing your sword in a smooth arc, moving faster and faster.

But just as you swing back, you see something out of the corner of your eye- a flash of movement. Before you can stop yourself, your sword almost connects with a figure standing there.

With a swift movement, the figure blocks your strike, his hand gripping your sword while a smirk grows on his face. “Whoa,” he says, eyes shining mischievously. “Careful there.”

You gasp, stumbling back. Standing before you is a boy, maybe a year older than you, with pink hair and eyes like you’ve never seen. He lowers your sword and tilts his head, studying you.

“What’re you doing out here alone?” he asks as if it’s the strangest thing in the world.

You shift uncomfortably. “I live here,” you reply, straightening your posture.

“On the mountain?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “Alone? That’s… kind of weird.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you take a couple of steps back, still gripping your sword tightly. He steps forward, though, closing the distance easily. He looks at you seriously, but there’s something about him that makes you feel oddly at ease, even if your heart’s pounding.

You clear your throat, trying to sound brave. “Why are you here?”

He pauses, his gaze dropping for a moment before he shrugs. “I ran away.”

Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You know what it feels like to be alone. You glance at him, and something about his honesty, his easy way of admitting it, makes you want to trust him.

“Well,” you say, giving him a tentative smile, “I’m Y/N. Do you want to come back with me for lunch?”

At that exact moment, his stomach rumbles. He gives a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, if you’re offering. I’m Sabito.”

You lead him down the winding trail back to Grandpa’s house. He walks a few steps behind you, humming to himself. He’s strange, and there’s an energy about him that you can’t quite put your finger on yet.

Once you reach the house, Urokodaki is setting out bowls of rice and fish. He looks up as you enter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he notices the boy trailing behind you.

“Grandpa Urokodaki, this is Sabito,” you say, gesturing toward him. “He… uh, he ran away. Doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

Sabito gives a quick bow. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for allowing me in your home.”

Grandpa’s gaze lingers on him, assessing. You can feel the hesitation in the air, and you give him your best pleading look, widening your eyes. 

Your grandpa gives him a nod and puts out an extra bowl for him to eat. It’s a relatively quiet meal, though Grandpa does press Sabito a bit about where he’s from and how he ended up near you on the mountain.

“Grandpa, are you going to make him leave after?” you ask innocently, feeling more and more sympathy for Sabito the longer you sit for him. “He doesn’t have anyone else.”

He sighs, glancing from you to Sabito and then back to you. After a long pause, he nods. “He may stay if he’d like.”

You grin, nearly bouncing on your feet as you turn to Sabito, who seems to be holding in his excitement. “Thank you, sir,” he nods politely.

At the end of your meal, he looks at you curiously. “So, what were you doing on the mountain with a sword anyway?” he brings up for a second time.

You hesitate, glancing at Grandpa. He clears his throat, his expression growing serious as he turns to Sabito. He then explains the situation with demons, causing Sabito’s eyebrows to rise far up on his head.

Grandpa explains the dangers that lurk in the forest, the demons that roam around at night. He talks about the importance of defending yourself, and you notice Sabito’s eyes widen as he takes in every word.

When Grandpa finishes, Sabito’s shoulders relax and looks down in his lap. Then, after a moment, he glances back up with a spark of determination in his eyes. “Please, sir, teach me,” he says, his voice steady. “Train me to fight.”

Grandpa seems to consider it, his gaze flickering over to you before he finally nods. “Very well. You’ll start training tomorrow, but you must keep up with where Y/N is in her training.”

Your heart leaps with excitement, and you give Sabito a grin. “That’d be great! We can train together!”

He grins back, an excitement bubbling between you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

The next few weeks pass in a blur of training sessions. Sabito picks things up quickly, his movements fluid and natural like he’s been meant for this all along. Every swing of his sword is deliberate, his stances are careful and strong, as if he’s bracing himself for something far more intense than sparring on a mountain clearing.

You don’t hold back either. Each morning, you throw yourself into drills with a renewed determination, eager to stay ahead of him.

Sparring against Sabito pushes you to your limit- his strikes come fast, his footwork is sharp and unrelenting. It’s clear he has high expectations for himself and even more from you.

One afternoon, you manage to land a hit, your wooden sword lightly tapping his shoulder. You grin, but Sabito just narrows his eyes.

“Not bad,” he nods, but there’s a serious edge in his voice. “But you left your side open. If that was a real fight, your opponent would have taken advantage of that.”

The pride you felt moments ago fades, and you nod, swallowing your smile. “Right. I’ll work on it.”

Sabito nods, his expression steady. “You’re strong, Y/N, but strength alone won’t be enough. If you don’t stay sharp, it’s only a matter of time before it costs you.”

There’s no teasing in his voice, just a grounded certainty, as if he’s already convinced of the dangers you’re both meant to face. He watches you for a moment, eyes focused, before he moves back into position, raising his sword.

“Again,” he says. “And this time, stay mindful of your stance.”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and raise your sword. As you look at Sabito, you notice his gaze is focused, intense. It’s different than sparring with Grandpa- Sabito’s energy is raw, and there’s something almost stubborn in the way he refuses to hold back.

“Here I come,” you say, giving him a slight nod. He nods back, adjusting his grip, and you step forward, swinging carefully.

Sabit meets your strike with a steady strength. However, after a few rounds, it’s clear you have the upper hand. His movements are less precise, his footwork is a bit too rushed, and you can feel him growing frustrated as he tries to keep up.

But, he doesn’t complain or give up. Instead, he adjusts, learning from each mistake, moving with a quiet determination you can’t help but admire.

Finally, you catch him off guard, knocking his sword from his hands. He stares at it on the ground, breathing hard, his expression a mix of exhaustion and quiet respect. He looks up at you, a hint of a smile breaking through his serious expression.

“Alright,” he says, catching his breath. “You got me. You’re good, Y/N.” 

You smile, reaching out to hand him his sword. “Thank you.”

As he accepts the sword, his gaze lingers on you for a moment, and there’s something serious, almost contemplative in his eyes.

“Guess I have a long way to go,” he says quietly, glancing at his sword. “But… if you’re sticking around, I think I’ll get there faster.”

There’s no pride or frustration in his voice, only determination and slight admiration. You grin at his words. Training with him doesn’t feel like a competition- it feels like you’re both working toward something bigger, side by side.

“Come on,” you say. “I want to show you something.”

A few minutes later, you lead him to the clearing where a massive boulder rests. It looms in front of you, dark and solid, as if it’s waiting for you to make the first move. Sabito stops beside you, eyebrows raising as he looks it over.

“ That’s the thing you’re always moping about?” he asks, a trace of awe in his voice. “You mean, Master Urokodaki actually wants you to cut through this?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing a little. “Feels impossible, right?”

Sabito walks around it, his gaze curious. After a moment, he nods and turns back to you with a small smile. “Well, maybe it looks impossible now, but I think you’ll get there. Anyway, I bet I could do it.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts from your throat at his slight cockiness. “Yeah, right! You still can’t make it down the mountain without stepping in at least one of Grandpa’s traps!”

“Whatever,” he mutters, walking around the boulder away from you. “I was trying to compliment you.”

Having someone believe in you so easily, without any doubt, feels strange. For a second, you’re not quite sure what to say.

The sky is starting to darken now, the last bit of sunlight casting long shadows over the trees. You glance up, feeling a slight shiver as the air cools. “We should probably head back,” you say. “It’s getting late.”

Sabito nods, lingering for a moment as he looks back at the boulder. “Right. Before we run into any demons.”

You both head back down the trail and as you walk, there’s an easy silence between you. Sabito glances over occasionally, his expression still thoughtful, as if he’s still working through everything he learned in training. But still, he’s not frustrated.

After a while, he speaks up. “You know, Y/N… I don’t think I’d have gotten this far so fast without you.” 

He hesitates, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I like watching you train. It makes me want to be better.”

You glance at him, surprised. “I feel the same way about you. Having someone to train with… it makes everything feel possible.”

He nods, the smile widening a bit. “Well, then I guess we’ll have to keep pushing each other.”

“Mhm,” you nod just as you reach Grandpa’s house. 

It really does feel good to finally have a purpose and friendship to keep you grounded.

Chapter Text

The sun begins to disappear behind the trees as you and Sabito make your way along the mountain path. Sabito is talking quickly, his voice lively as he explains some new training method he swears by.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, if you focus on your breathing when you swing, it’s like your blade moves on its own,” he says, his hand gripping the hilt of his practice sword as he demonstrates a wide swing.

“Uh-huh,” you reply, nodding with a tired smile. 

Honestly, you’re heard this speech at least three times already, and it’s going in one ear and out the other. But Sabito is so enthusiastic, you don’t have the heart to interrupt him.

“Seriously,” he insists, glancing over at you. “It’s why I’ve been improving so fast. You should try it.”

You smile at him, slightly forcing a laugh. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

You don’t mention the tiny bit of jealousy sitting on your chest, the way it burns just a little whenever you watch how quickly Sabito’s picking things up. You’ve been training longer, but he makes it look so easy. Still, you hide it well, burying it beneath your usual grin.

Sabito’s sharp eyes catch the hint of something in your voice. He tilts his head, watching you closely. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, adjusting the strap of your practice sword. “Yeah, just tired.”

He studies you for another moment before nodding and shrugging it off. “Okay. You’ll get there, you know,” he says, his voice quieter. “You’re tougher than most people I’ve met.”

“Oh? And how many people have you met, hm?” you chuckle.

“Shut-” he begins just as the two of you round the last bend before Urokodaki’s house. However, he immediately notices that something is off. Although there is light still shining inside, the front door has been left open.

The second the two of you step into the house, Sabito’s hand goes to his sword, his expression turning sharp. 

“Grandpa?” you call out, trying to keep your voice steady.

The house is silent the moment you both slip off your shoes. Then, from the shadows, a boy with black hair steps into view, his arms wrapped tightly around something he’s clutching to his chest. His blue eyes catch the light, and Sabito moves in an instant, pointing his sword toward the boy.

“Wait!” you call out, stepping in front of Sabito, your hand outstretched. You glance back at the boy, and when your eyes meet his, something odd happens- your heart skips, like a tiny jolt of electricity. Though his gaze is piercing, it’s sad, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Who are you?” Sabito demands, his grip firm on his sword. “Y/N, get away.”

Before the boy can answer, the back door slides open, and Urokodaki steps inside carrying an armful of firewood. “Lower your weapon, Sabito,” he says calmly. “This is Giyuu Tomioka.”

“Put it down,” you whisper as well.

Sabito hesitates but eventually lowers his sword, letting out a quiet sigh. You glance at the boy- Giyuu- who seems frozen in place, his grip on whatever he’s holding tightening.

Urokodaki sets the firewood down, brushing his hands together. “I found him running from a demon,” he says, sighing. “He’s been through a lot.”

At those words, Giyuu’s shoulders tremble. His lips press into a thin line before he whispers, “My sister… my sister…”

His voice breaks, and tears begin to fall. You and Sabito exchange a quick glance, both of you feeling awkward and unsure. Neither of you speaks for a moment, and the weight of Giyuu’s grief fills the room.

Sabito sighs as he sheathes his sword. “I guess you’ll be staying with us for a while, huh?”

Urokodaki nods. “Yes. For as long as he wants.”

He turns to you, his expression softening. “Y/N, would you please help him set up a place to sleep? Sabito, start the fire. I’ll prepare something to eat.”

You nod, stepping toward Giyuu. “Come on,” you say gently, motioning for him to follow you.

He hesitates for a moment before following, his steps slow and careful. You lead him to a small storage room where you pull out a futon and a blanket. Then, you carry them over beside Sabito’s things and glance back at him.

“This okay?” you ask softly.

He nods quietly, his blue eyes meeting yours for just a moment. There’s something in his gaze that catches you off guard- an emptiness, a deep sadness that feels too familiar. It lingers in the air between you, and you’re not sure what to say.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks, his voice barely audible.

You smile softly, a weight coming off your shoulders now that he’s talked to you. “I’m Y/N, Urokodaki’s granddaughter. I left my family, too.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can tell your words have struck a chord. You’re about to say more when a movement in the doorway catches your attention. You look up to see Sabito leaning against the frame, watching the two of you curiously.

“The fire’s ready,” he says simply.

You nod, turning back to Giyuu. “Come on, let’s sit.”

When the food is ready, the four of you sit together around the low table, the room filled with the warm scent of stew. For some time, no one speaks, and the quiet is only broken by the soft clink of bowls and the occasional crackle of the fire. Giyuu eats slowly, his movements careful, and you notice how tightly he holds the bowl- like it’s the only thing tethoring him to the earth.

Urokodaki clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Giyuu,” he says, his voice steady. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. But I must warn you- the mountain is not always safe. If you are going to live here, you’ll need to train with Y/N and Sabito.”

Giyuu’s eyes flicker from Urokodaki, then to you. There’s a question in his gaze, and you feel your chest tighten under the weight of it. Sabito glances at you as well, and for a moment, you’re caught between them, unsure of where to look.

Finally, Giyuu nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you glance at Sabito, who gives you a soft, almost approving nod. 

At sunlight, the four of you walk deep into the mountains for Urokodaki’s daily lesson. He demonstrates the movements slowly, his sword cutting through the air with deliberate precision and a calm yet firm voice.

“Sabito,” Urokodaki says, gesturing to him. “Please demonstrate.”

You pout to yourself as Sabito steps forward with a serious look on his face. Then, with a nod, he mirrors the movements perfectly, his blade arcing cleanly. It’s almost effortless, the fluidity make it clear just how quickly he’s been advancing. You can’t help but admire him- Sabito makes everything look easy.

“Y/N, Giyuu. Watch carefully,” Urokodaki instructs. “Now, your turn.”

You grip your sword tightly, positioning yourself beside Giyuu. You both begin the movement, trying to match Sabito’s demonstration. Your blade slices the air rather smoothly, but Giyuu is slower, his stance slightly off. He knocks into your shoulder and you notice his frustration as his brows furrows.

“That’s it,” you say softly, pausing to encourage him. “Try shifting your weight a bit more forward. You’ve almost got it.”

Giyuu glances at you, hesitant, and adjusts his stance. His movements improve slightly, though they’re far from perfect.

“Good job, Giyuu!” you say, giving him a small smile. “See? You’re getting it.”

Sabito, standing beside Urokodaki, narrows his eyes as he watches. He knows you well enough to realize something’s different. 

Encouragement isn’t your style- you’re typically competitive, pushing everyone to do better instead of handing out praise so freely. And going easy on someone? That’s definitely not like you.

He doesn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitches in mild annoyance as Urokodaki calls for a break.

You lower your sword with a sigh, stepping toward the edge of the clearing to grab your water. But as you reach for it, your foot catches the edge of the container, sending it tumbling to the ground. The water spills out completely.

“No, no,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Come on…”

You mutter to yourself a bit more before turning to a friend to help you in need. “Sabito,” you say, turning to him. “Could I please have just a-”

“Y/N!” your grandfather calls you so firmly it straightens your posture. “For your clumsiness, you will return to the house and refill your flask.”

Your jaw drops. “What? But it’s so far!”

“Then you’d better hurry up,” he replies, unmoved.

You let out an exaggerated groan, picking up your empty flask as you mutter under your breath. You turn to walk away, dragging your feet slightly, when Urokodaki suddenly strides past you.

“Don’t let an old man beat you,” he says, glancing back with a sly smile before breaking into a run.

Your eyes widen, and you gasp. “Wait-what? No way!” You take off after him, sprinting down the path. “Grandpa, slow down!”

In the clearing, Sabito and Giyuu watch as the two of you disappear into the trees. The air grows quiet, and for the first time, the two boys are left alone.

Giyuu shifts awkwardly, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He glances at Sabito, unsure of what to say, but Sabito breaks the silence first.

“You’re not a very fast learner, are you?” Sabito says bluntly, his tone sharp but not unkind.

Giyuu blinks, his eyes widening slightly. “What?”
Sabito crosses his arms, tilting his head as he watches Giyuu. “Y/N’s faster. She’s been training longer than you, but she’s got more drive.” He pauses, his gaze narrowing slightly. “But you’re catching on.”

Giyuu doesn’t reply, but his shoulder relaxes slightly at the faint hint of approval in Sabito’s voice.

Then, Sabito smirks, stepping closer. “By the way,” he says casually, “Maybe Y/N will like you back once you get stronger.”

Giyuu’s face turns a deep shade of red, and he stiffens, his grip tightening on his sword. “I- what? That’s not-”

“Save it,” Sabito cuts in, rolling his eyes. “It’s obvious so don’t bother denying it.”

Giyuu’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks completely caught off guard, his embarrassment obvious.

Sabito narrows his eyes, his voice dropping to something more serious. “Listen, I’ve known Y/N for a long time- longer than you. She’s like a sister to me. So if you ever hurt her-” His tone sharpens as he takes a step closer. “I’ll kill you myself, won’t need those demons. Got it?”

Giyuu’s eyes widen, but he nods quickly, his voice quiet. “I… I swear. I won’t hurt her.”

“Good,” Sabito hums as he unsheathes a small blade from his belt, cutting a shallow line across his palm. He then holds it out to Giyuu. “Swear on it.”

Giyuu hesitates for a moment, then nods again, steadying himself. He takes the blade and copies the cut before clasping Sabito’s hand. Their palms press together, blood smearing between them as they shake.

Sabito smirks, pulling his hand back and wiping it on his haori. “Hmph. Knew it. You do like her.”

Giyuu looks away, his face still red. “I just… She’s…” He trails off, unsure how to explain himself.

Sabito doesn’t let him finish. Instead, he steps back and draws his sword. “Enough of that. Back to training. I’m not going to wait all day for Y/N to refill a flask that she probably won’t even drink anyway.”

Giyuu sighs, drawing his sword as well. “Okay.”

As the two of them take their stances, the mountain air fills with the sound of swords clashing, their focused determination cutting through the forest. Meanwhile in the distance, you and Urokodaki conclude your race to the house, unaware of the pact just made behind you.

Chapter Text

The crisp air carries the familiar scent of pine as the three of you- Sabito, Giyuu, and yourself- trudge back down the mountain path. Your muscles ache from another day of training, but the conversation keeps the walk back from dragging.

“We’re so close,” Sabito says, his voice carrying that confidence which always seems to calm you. “We just have to keep at it.”

You kick a pebble along the path, watching as it skitters ahead. “I dunno. I feel like it’ll take forever. Breaking the boulder is… impossible.”

“It’s not,” Giyuu replies softly. “You’ve been working on yours for a while now. You’ll probably break it first.”

The words make your stomach twist. Although they’re meant to encourage you, it just makes your cheeks burn. It’s been a whole year, and still, you haven’t managed to split that cursed rock. Sabito and Giyuu had only started a few months ago, and their progress seems leagues ahead of yours. It’s hard not to feel like a failure.

“Yeah,” you mutter, forcing a smile. “But I’m the youngest here.”

Sabito chuckles and drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. You’re doing great. Just don’t give up, okay?”

Giyuu glances at you with an unreadable expression. “We’ll all get it eventually and go to Final Selection together.”

Sabito gives your head a playful rub before letting you go. “See, listen to Giyuu!”

As you walk, your shoulder brushes against Giyuu’s. His steps fall into rhythm with yours, and when you glance over, you catch him looking back. His gaze lingers just long enough to send heat rushing to your cheeks, and you quickly look away, your heart thumping in your chest. The faint smile tugging at his lips doesn’t help. You’ve developed such a hopeless crush on him, though you’ll never admit it. Not to him.

Not to anyone.

“Hey,” Sabito pipes up, breaking the silence. “What do you two think of Makomo? Think she’ll last on the mountain?”

Giyuu shrugs. “She’s got promise, even though she’s only nine.”

You nod in agreement. “She seems pretty sharp. I think she’ll do well.”

Sabito grins, his tone teasing. “Looks like you’re getting a new little sister to go with your two big brothers then, huh?”

You laugh softly, but his words send a pang through your chest. You hadn’t thought of your new little family like that before. It reminds you of the Shinazugawas, of how Sanemi and Genya used to feel like your brothers. Back when you saw them every day, before life changed, before everything shattered.

Now, you never see them at all. And the thought settles like a stone in your stomach, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep it from showing.

Two weeks later, you sit on the porch of Urokodaki’s home, brushing Makomo’s hair. She hums a soft, happy tune, swinging her legs as you work through the tangles in her hair. The rhythm of the brush is soothing, almost like meditating, and it begins to stir something within you.

Your mind flashes back to another time. To Genya. You remember the way he’d sit patiently as you trimmed his hair, brushing it afterward to make it neat. Though it was never perfect- since you were only a child as well- he’d turn to you with a wide grin and gratitude shining in his eyes, saying, “Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!”

Makomo twists her head over to you as you begin to slow down, thinking you must be done. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best,” she giggles sweetly.

The words hit you like a wave, and tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them. Your chest tightens as memories of the past flood back- of Sanemi’s voice, Genya’s bright laughter. The ache is unbearable.

Without saying a word, you hand Makomo the brush and rush inside. You barely make it to your bed before the tears spill over. Collapsing onto the futon, you bury your face in the pillow, letting the sobs shake your body.

Not far away, Sabito and Giyuu are sitting cross-legged near the porch, their card game abandoned to their usual idle bickering. Sabito just won another hand, smirking at Giyuu’s frown.

“Another loss for you, huh?” Sabito teases, shuffling the deck.

Giyuu is about to reply when they both notice your quick exit. You didn’t say anything- didn’t even glance back at Makomo. Sabito looks toward where she sits, staring down at the brush in her hand.

“What happened?” Sabito asks her.

Makomo shrugs, her face scrunching in confusion. “I don’t know. Did I do something wrong?”

Sabito shakes his head, his expression softening as he stands. “No, it isn’t you.”

He then glances at Giyuu, who looks just as puzzled, and takes a step toward the house. “I’ll check on her,” Sabito says quietly.

Giyuu nods and stays seated, his brow furrowed as he watches Sabito disappear inside.

As Sabito enters the shared room where all four of you have your futons laid out, he can hear your muffled cries. He steps inside and kneels beside your futon, his expression gentle as he watches you closely.

“Y/N?” he asks. You don’t look up, keeping your face buried in the pillow. He sighs and rests his hand on the back of your head. “Hey, what’s going on? Did something happen?”

Your shoulders shake as you let out a quiet cry. “It’s nothing,” you murmur, though the tone of your voice betrays you.

Sabito doesn’t press further. Instead, he rubs slow circles over your hair, his touch comforting. “It’s okay,” he says. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. I’m here.”

You sniffle, finally turning your face enough to whisper. “She reminds me of them.”

He nods, understanding without needing an explanation. “You’ve been thinking about them again lately, haven’t you?”

You nod silently, biting your lip to keep more tears at bay.

Sabito leans back slightly, his hand still resting on your head. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I don’t think I could eat if I wanted to,” you reply, your voice small but honest.

“Fair enough,” he says with a slight chuckle. “But if you change your mind, just let me know. We’re all here for you.” He gives your head one last pat before standing and heading toward the door.

When he gets outside, Makomo looks up worriedly at him. “What happened?” she asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sabito shakes his head, ruffling her hair lightly. “No, Makomo. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.”

Giyuu glances at Sabito as well, his face tight with concern. It’s clear to Sabito that Giyuu knows little about your past, about the weight you carry. Sabito holds his gaze, then nods toward the forest path.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Sabito suggests. Giyuu hesitates for a moment, most likely not wanting to leave you, but then rises to his feet.

“Makomo,” Giyuu says gently, “stay here. Let us know if Y/N needs anything.”

She nods, clutching the brush in her hands as the two boys disappear down the path.

After that, the days begin to blur together.

Two weeks of skipping training, of avoiding everyone. You can’t remember the last time you left your futon for longer than it takes to walk to the bathroom and back. 

The walls of your grandpa’s home seem to press in closer with each passing day, the air feeling heavier, harder to breathe. Every laugh, every muffled conversation beyond the wall feels like another stone being added to the weight in your chest.

That evening, their voices filter through the house again.

Sabito’s laugh rings out first, loud and carefree, and you can hear Makomo giggling in response. 

Giyuu’s voice is quieter, but still warm. He chimes in between the sounds of Sabito’s teasing.

Urokodaki’s voice cuts through the chatter briefly as well, a rare note of praise directed at Makomo. “Well done today. You’re progressing well.”

Perhaps she should be his blood relative instead.

You pull your blanket tighter around yourself, burrowing deeper as though the covers might shield you from the ache growing in your chest. 

They’re all moving forward without you-getting stronger, making progress, living their lives. And you… you’re stuck. The stone in your stomach feels heavier than ever, weighing you down, pinning you in place.

You don’t even hear the knock at first. It’s soft, hesitant. Then it comes again, and before you can muster the energy to respond, the door slides open slightly. A faint creak. You peek out from beneath the covers just enough to see Giyuu stepping into the room, balancing a tray of food in his hands.

He doesn’t say anything as he sets the tray down by your futon. Kneeling beside you, he adjusts the food carefully, fixing the bowl and chopsticks as though the act might distract him from whatever thoughts are swimming in his head. For a moment, you think he might leave without a word.

But then he sighs softly, the sound just barely audible, and speaks.

“I think we’re getting closer,” he says, his voice low, hesitant. “To slicing the boulder, I mean. Sabito’s… well, he’s Sabito, so he’s practically already there. And Makomo’s really picking things up fast. I think it’s just a matter of time for me now.”

He pauses, his eyes drifting over your still form as if willing you to respond. When you don’t, he swallows hard and shifts his weight.

“I just wish you’d come back to training. I really want you to see the progress I- we’ve made.” His words are soft but sincere, laced with a hope that twists something in your chest.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then he sighs again, this time a bit of frustration creeping in. “Sabito will always be more talented,” he murmurs. “He’s a quick learner. He masters everything so easily. It’s… hard not to compare myself sometimes. I think I know how you feel…”

Then, you hear the faint shuffle of fabric as he leans forward. A moment later, a piece of hair falls loose in front of your face, and Giyuu’s fingers brush it back gently. His touch lingers for the briefest of moments before pulling away.

“I miss you being around, Y/N,” he says, his voice quieter now, in a whisper. “It’s not the same without you.”

The weight in your chest tightens, pressing down harder. You clench your jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay, but the ache is relentless.

Giyuu lingers for another moment, his hand hovering near you like he wishes to do something more, but doesn’t know how. Then he stands, his footsteps barely making a sound as he walks to the door. 

He pauses in the doorway, glancing back one last time before stepping out and sliding the door shut behind him.

You sink deeper into the covers, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. His words echo in your mind: “I miss you being around, Y/N.”

But it doesn’t help. If anything, it makes the stone in your stomach feel heavier, like it’s growing, transforming into your own boulder- unmovable. Your throat tightens, and the tears spill over silently, soaking into the pillow beneath you.

You feel like you’re slipping father away from them. From everything. And you don’t know if you have the strength to climb back.

Chapter Text

“Get up, get up!” Makomo demands as she yanks the covers off of you with a surprising amount of strength for someone so small.

You groan, curling into yourself as the cool air hits your skin. “Makomo,” you grumble. “I’m not in the mood.”

“But you know what tonight it,” she says, her voice softening as she plants her hands on her hips. “And you’re coming! Don’t make me drag you the whole way.”

You groan louder, pressing your face into your pillow. You’ve tried in the past week- tried getting out of bed more, to push yourself into routines again. But it’s been harder since Sabito and Giyuu broke their boulders. 

That accomplishment, their joy… it feels so far from anything you could reach. But this afternoon is meant to celebrate them, and a part of you knows you owe them at least your presence.

Slowly, you shuffle out of bed and get dressed before letting Makomo tug you to the table where everyone is gathered. Sabito, Giyuu, and Urokodaki are already seated, and the warm light of the room is making their faces glow. 

As everyone begins to eat, you thank your grandpa and Makomo for the meal.

Then, guilt creeps in as you glance at Sabito and Giyuu. You hadn’t gotten them anything to congratulate them on their achievement. It hadn’t even occurred to you, lost in your own self-pity. 

Then, Sabito leans in close, bumping his shoulder against yours. His grin is infectious as he whispers, “Glad you joined us for this one… Though, I bet Giyuu’s even happier.”

Your eyes widen, snapping up to meet Giyuu’s gaze from across the table. He didn’t hear what Sabito whispered, but the way your face heats up makes him pause mid-bite, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before his own cheeks turn pink. He quickly looks away, the faintest bit of embarrassment creeping onto his expression.

Makomo giggles, breaking the awkward tension with a teasing comment. “Y/N and Sabito are always so close, aren’t they? Maybe too close.”

Sabito bursts into laughter, wagging his chopsticks in mock protest. “What can I say? Y/N just can’t stay away from me.”

“That’s enough,” Urokodaki cuts in as your eyes narrow at Sabito, though his voice carries a rare bit of humor. He folds his arms and looks at Makomo. “No talk of boyfriends in this household, young lady.”

Makomo smiles cheekily.

Giyuu looks down, his gaze is now fixed firmly on the plate before him and soon, the rest of you join him in a quiet, comfortable silence.

As the plates are cleaned up and the others settle into another conversation, you slip outside. The rain greets you immediately, soaking through your clothes as you step into it.

The dim light is a relief against your tired eyes, and you tilt your head back to let the drops fall against your face. It feels cleansing, like it’s washing away the weight that clings to you, even if it’s just for a moment.

You take a shaky step forward, your legs wobbling beneath you. But you don’t stop. Instead, you let the rain guide you down the mountain as an idea forms in your mind- maybe you can find something in the village to give to Sabito and Giyuu. Something small, to show your appreciation for them even if you’ve struggled to voice it.

The farther down you go, the heavier the air feels, and the thicker the fog in your mind grows. Your swaying steps become slower, harder to steady. Your chest tightens, the lingering effects of crying and exhaustion catching up to you.

Finally, your legs give out, and you drop to your knees in the muddy trail. The faint glow of the village lights ahead blurs, and your head feels too heavy to hold up. You collapse forward, the mud cool and damp against your skin as the world goes black.

The rain falls steadily around you in a rhythmic patter against the earth. The world has gone dark for you, silent except for the faint hum of rain and cold mud beneath your cheek. 

Then, somewhere in the depths of that void, you hear a voice- a familiar one- calling out your name. It’s faint at first, as though carried on the wind, but it grows louder, more urgent.

“Y/N!”

A hand cups the side of your face, a warmth contrast to the chill that clings to your body. You stir weakly, your eyelashes fluttering against the rain that still falls on your face. But everything feels heavy, like you’re trapped beneath the boulder you can’t break.

Then, the warmth spreads. Arms slide beneath you, lifting you carefully from the mud. The rain soaks into someone else’s clothes now, and you feel yourself pressed against a chest that rises and falls too fast. The voice calls your name again- shaky, desperate, as if willing you to respond.

“Y/N, please,” Giyuu whispers, his breath catching as he tilts your face up. “Come on. Please, wake up.”

The world around you still feels distant, like it’s slipping further away with each heartbeat. But the sound of his voice pulls you back, bit by bit. The way it trembles, the way it breaks, holds you tethered to the present. He’s always been composed, but now his words spill out in a storm.

“You can’t do this,” he says, cradling you closer as he starts to stand with you in his arms, his steps quick and uneven. “Not to us. Not to me.”

The rain continues to fall, streaming down his face, soaking into his hair. He doesn’t care. His grip on you tightens as if afraid you’ll disappear, and his voice drops into a whisper, barely heard over the storm. 

“You can hate me for being late,” he murmurs, his words spilling out like he can’t hold them back, “for not noticing sooner. But just… stay. That’s all I’m asking.”

By the time he reaches Urokodaki’s home, his breathing is labored and his shoulders are slumped. The door slides open in a rush, the sharp sound startling the otherwise quiet home. Sabito and Urokodaki appear almost instantly, their voice overlapping in alarm.

“What happened?” Sabito demands as he approaches quickly.

“She collapsed in the rain,” Giyuu says, his voice tight. He sets you down carefully on the bathroom toilet, his hands lingering on your shoulders as though he’s afraid to let go. “She hasn’t said anything since I found her.”

You stare straight ahead at nothing while Urokodaki enters the bathroom. “Move,” he orders firmly, handing Giyuu a towel and gesturing toward the bath. “She needs to get warm.”

Sabito kneels before you, snapping his fingers in front of your face and patting your cheeks lightly. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t do this to us,” he mutters, his voice shaking.

Your lashes flutter again, and a weak groan escapes your lips. Relief floods Sabito’s face and he lets out a breathy laugh. “There you are.”

“Y/N,” Giyuu whispers, his voice breaking. His hand brushes some of the mud off your face and his shoulders sag with relief when your gaze meets his.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re here.”

“Enough,” Urokodaki interrupts again. Y/N needs to bathe and rest. The both of you- out.”

Sabito and Giyuu glance at you worriedly once more, but they eventually nod and leave, their worried glances lingering on you until the door slides shut behind them.

Urokodaki kneels beside you, his large hand settling gently on your shoulder. “You poor child,” he murmurs, his gaze heavy with sympathy. “You’ve been through unimaginable hardship, haven’t you?”

Your throat tightens at his words, and you lower your gaze.

“I know you miss the Shinazugawa brothers,” he says, his tone softer now. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them, but… some things are better left unsaid.”

His words linger in the air. Although he didn’t mean for them to be offputting, it leaves you a bit unsettled.

You open your mouth to ask what he means, but he rises to his feet before you can speak.

“Rest,” he says simply, his voice leaving no room for argument. Then he turns and leaves, the door closing softly behind him.

You stare at the bath, its surface rather inviting. The cold from the rain and mud still clings to you, your body trembling as you strip off your drenched clothes and step into the water. The chill of the bath shocks your senses, it’s a contrast to the sharp rain.

You sink deeper, letting the sensation keep you awake as your thoughts churn. The weight in your chest remains and tears sting at your eyes, slipping down your cheeks and blending with the bathwater.

The memory of Giyuu’s voice lingers: “Stay. That’s all I’m asking.”

But you wonder, as you stare into the ripping surface of the water, if staying is enough. If you can ever move forward again.

The next morning, you join the others for breakfast. Makomo chatters excitedly about her progress, announcing that Urokodaki is finally showing her the boulder she’ll be working on splitting in half. You nod absent-mindedly, avoiding the glances Giyuu and Sabito send your way.

Urokodaki clears his throat as he sits down with you all, his calm voice cutting through the chatter. “Final Selection is coming soon. Sabito and Giyuu will be ready. If Y/N and Makomo wish to join them, you have one month to split your boulder.”

The weight of his words sinks in immediately. You can’t not join them. So, you nod as you force yourself to meet his gaze, though your stomach churns at the thought.

Later, you stand before your boulder, its massive form towering over you. The same boulder you’ve faced countless times. It feels even larger now, the sight of it pressing down on you like the weight of all your failures.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember Urokodaki’s teachings, the techniques you’ve seen Sabito and Giyuu use so effortlessly.

But every attempt feels hollow. Your movements lack precision, the breathing techniques falter before they can even take root. You swing your blade with all the force you can muster, but the boulder doesn’t even budge. Frustration wells up, choking you, and you drop to your knees before the unforgiving stone.

The ache in your chest intensifies, not just from your failure but from the memories that haunt you. The Shinazugawas. Your first family. The warmth you lost, the laughter you’ll never hear again. It hurts, and no matter how hard you try, the pain overshadows everything else.

You press your forehead against the cold surface of the boulder, the tears spilling freely now. You’re stuck, and no matter how much you try, it feels like you’ll never move forward.

Chapter Text

The morning is quiet, minus the faint rustle of wind through the trees and the soft murmurs of encouragement from Urokodaki. You stand beside him, watching as he fusses over the harris of your three closest friends. Your family.

His hands are steady and sure, smoothing out the creases and tugging on loose threads, making sure everything is perfect before they leave. You can tell he’s trying to distract himself with the small details, anything to forget the looming weight of what comes next.

“Keep your breathing steady,” he says, his voice even despite the edge of urgency. “The techniques will guide you, but only if your mind is sharp and your heart remains calm. Remember- trust your training.”

Sabito nods confidently, a faint grin tugging at his lips as he places his hand over his sword. “Of course, Master. We’ve got this.”

Makomo follows, bowing her head slightly before slipping on her fox mask. “We won’t let you down, Master Urokodaki.”

Giyuu shifts nervously beside her, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to absorb every last word Urokodaki says, but you know he’s struggling to find the same confidence as the others.

The knot in your stomach tightens as you watch them, knowing this moment is the last before they leave for Final Selection. The last before they step into danger. You swallow hard and force your feet to move.

Makomo is the first you approach. Her mask is already in place, the floral design catching in the sunlight as she looks at you. You throw your arms around her, holding her tight.

“Be careful, okay?” you mutter. “Just because you’re a bit older now doesn’t mean you can let your guard down.”

Makomo squeezes you in return, her arms warm and steady. “I’ll be fine,” she says softly. “I promise.”

You pull back reluctantly, offering her a small smile before turning to Giyuu. He looks at you for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging low between you. Finally, he steps closer, and you wrap your arms around him, his shoulders tense beneath your touch.

“Take care of Master Urokodaki while we’re gone,” he says quietly.

You laugh softly, though the sound is tinged with a hollow ache. “Only if you make sure Sabito doesn’t do anything too reckless.”

That draws a faint smile from him, his lips turning upward for the briefest moment. “Deal.”

As you hug him again, your hands slip around his neck, and you squeeze your eyes shut. The thought of losing Giyuu next- of him not coming back- is unbearable. You can feel your chest tightening, but you don’t say anything. You just hold him tighter.

Finally, you step back, your gaze lingering on his face as if to commit every detail to memory. He nods at you, a silent promise in his eyes.

Then, it’s Sabito’s turn. He’s already grinning as he pulls you into a firm hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Keep your spirits up, Y/N, alright?” he says, his voice light but steady. “I’ll bring you back some of the wisteria petals.”

You manage a small laugh, shaking your head as you reply. “Stay focused, Sabito.”

“Always,” he says, his grin widening.

As you pull away, the reality of their departure settles heavily in your chest. He adjusts his mask, and with one last look back, he, Giyuu, and Sabito begin their journey down the mountain.

You and your grandpa watch in silence, the air feeling colder with each step they take away from you.

When they’re out of sight, Urokodaki places a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm. “Come on, Y/N,” he says gently. “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, but you don’t move. Your eyes are still fixed on the path where your friends disappeared.

“Don’t worry. They’ll be back.”

You turn to look at your grandpa, knitting your brows together in a mix of hope and despair. He holds your gaze for a moment, his own eyes heavy with understanding, before he turns and heads back into the house.

You sigh, the sound is shaky as you take one last look at the empty path. Though the ache in your chest deepens, you force yourself to follow Urokodaki, stepping into the house just as the wind carries the faint scent of wisteria through the air.

Days drag by in silence, the emptiness of the house swallowing you whole. Urokodaki offers his quiet support, but the absence of the others lingers in every corner. Their laughter, their voices, the way they pushed you forward when you thought you couldn’t keep going- it’s all gone now.

All that’s left is you, the boulder, and the suffocatingly harsh weight of your failure.

Each morning, you wake up before the sun and drag yourself to train. The boulder looks like a monument in front of you.

You’ve spent so much time trying to master the water breathing techniques Urokodaki taught you, but it’s just never felt right. The flow is there, and the principles make sense, but when you hold your blade, it’s like something is missing.

Something important.

Today, the breeze is stronger than usual. It whips through the trees, rustling the leaves in waves. You sit in front of your boulder, watching the way the wind plays with the surface of a nearby stream. The water ripples, bending and twisting with the air’s every movement.

The wind shapes the water, you realize. It moves it,  carries it, and makes it dance.

The thought of it lingers as you rise to your feet and grip your sword. You close your eyes, letting the wind brush against your skin, and for the first time, you don’t fight against its force. Instead, you let it guide you.

You take in a slow breath, your movements mirroring the ebb and low of the breeze around you.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Over and over, your sword slices through the air, not in forceful strikes, but in a rhythmic, flowing arc. It feels different, lighter, like you’re finally moving in sync with something larger than yourself.

Again and again, you repeat the motions, each swing growing more precise, more natural. The air hums faintly around you, a soft vibration you feel in your fingertips.

You steady your breathing, positioning yourself before the boulder, and let the wind carry you forward.

When your blade moves, it doesn’t feel like an attack. It feels like part of the breeze- swift, effortless, and free.

And then, it happens.

A soft green glow lights up the edge of your blade as it slices clean through the boulder. The stone splits with a sharp crack , and for a moment, all you can do is stare. The two halves of the boulder lean away from one another before collapsing into the dirt with a heavy thud.

You stumble backward, your sword hanging limply in your hands. Your chest heaves and your mind races. The boulder is split. It’s done. After all this time, you finally broke it!

The faint green glow still lingers in the air like a soft echo of your strike. It wasn’t the water breathing techniques that Urokodaki had taught you. Not the blue arc you’ve seen Sabito, Giyuu, and Makomo use. This is something else.

What is this? you think, staring at your sword as if it might respond. Your mind races to try to make sense of it, but the only thing you know for sure is that you’ve done it.

And yet, the joy you should feel never comes. All you can think about is how it’s too late.

A lump rises in your throat as you fall to your knees, staring at the broken boulder.

“Why couldn’t this have been a few days sooner?” you whisper bitterly to yourself. If you had done this last week, you could have joined the others, stood beside them, and faced Final Selection together like you always talked about doing.

Instead, you’re left behind, waiting for a year that feels impossibly far away. A wave of frustration and regret washes over you, and you grip your sword tighter, tears stinging at your eyes. You should feel proud, but all you feel is the ache of what should have been.

You close your eyes and let your thoughts wash over you, attempting to steady the storm inside your mind. You did it, after all. It’s too late for this year, but you still did it.

Even if you’re alone, you’re moving forward. And for now, that has to be enough.

Chapter Text

A week later, Urokodai receives the letter.

You’re sitting on the porch, sharpening your sword, when you hear the quiet rustle of parchment being unfolded. At first, you think it’s likely just news from the village or a supply order he’s been waiting for. But when you glance over your shoulder, you see the way his shoulders stiffen, the way his fingers grip the paper just a little too tightly.

“Grandpa…?” you call, standing and moving closer. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He folds the paper carefully, as though it might crumble from his touch, and lets out a slow breath. His mask hides his expression, but the air around him feels heavy.

“Makomo… and Sabito…” he says finally, his voice steady but quiet. “They didn’t make it through final selection.”

The words hit you like a blade to the chest. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

“What?” you whisper, shaking your head. “No. No, that’s not. It can’t be right.”

He nods slowly, placing the letter on the table. “I am sorry, Y/N.”

Your knees feel weak, and you sink onto the porch steps, gripping the edge of the wood to steady yourself. Makomo’s bright smile flashes in your mind, followed by Sabito’s confident grin. They were so strong, so determined. How could this happen?

“What about Giyuu?” you ask suddenly, your voice trembling. “Is he-?”

Urokodaki pauses. Then he says, “He’s alive. But,” he sighs, “he isn’t coming back.”

You blink, the words not quite registering. “What do you mean, he’s not coming back?”

“The letter was from him,” he tells you. “He has no plans to return to the mountain.”

The air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room. Your heart, already filled with grief, twists with a new, sharper pain. Giyuu- quiet, dependable Giyuu- was just going to leave? Without even saying goodbye?

Your hands curl into fists as anger flares in your chest, burning away at the sorrow. “How could he do that?” you snap, your voice shaking. “How could he just leave without a word? After everything you’ve done for him, Grandpa?!”

Urokodaki says nothing, and the silence only fuels your rage. You grab your sword and storm down the trail.

You don’t know where you’re going at first, but your feet take you to the clearing with the boulder. You stare at it, broken in half now, though the memories of you training nearby with Sabito, Makomo, and Giyuu flood your mind.

Without thinking, you lift your foot and kick one of the halves as hard as you can.

It doesn’t move, of course, but you hear a faint crack as part of the surface splinters under your shoe. You stumble back, panting, as fury boils over.

“Giyuu Tomioka, you selfish, cowardly-” you yell, your voice echoing through the clearing. “How dare you not come back? How dare you leave him- leave us - without saying a word?!”

You kick the boulder again, harder this time, though it only makes your toes ache. “I’ll never forgive you!” you shout, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Never!”

But your voice merely fades into the silence and the only remaining sound is your ragged breathing. You press your hands to your face, feeling the weight of the world crashing down on you all at once.

They’re all gone. Sabito, Makomo, Giyuu- they’re all gone. Just like Sanemi and Genya. Everyone you cared about, slipping away one by one.

You crouch down low, wrapping your arms around yourself as the tears spill over. It feels like the grief is tearing you apart, and for a moment, you can’t stop the sobs that take over your body.

Then, through the quiet, you hear it.

“Y/N…”

A soft voice carried by the wind. Unmistakable. Your name, called out like a whisper from somewhere nearby.

You freeze, lifting your head slowly. “Who’s there?” you ask, your voice trembling.

No one answers. The clearing is empty, the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

Then, you feel a hand on your shoulder- a light, familiar touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “Y/N…” the voice says again calmly.

You turn around quickly, your heart pounding. But there’s no one there.

Tears streak your face as you stare at the empty space around you. “Sabito?” you whisper, your voice hardly carrying in the breeze.

The wind picks up then, brushing against your cheek like a caress. But no one answers.

After a long moment, you stand, wiping your face with the back of your hand. The weight in your chest remains, but the anger has faded.

You turn back toward the path leading home, clutching your sword tightly. “I’ll keep going,” you whisper to yourself. “For them.”

As you walk back through the trees, the faint rustling of the wind almost feels like it’s following you, like you’re not alone. Not entirely.

Ever since then, you’ve been the one taking care of your grandpa.

Urokodaki has always been a quiet man, but ever since the news of Makomo and Sabito’s deaths, he’s been almost impossible to reach. He moves through the days like a ghost, his typically calm demeanor weighed down by something heavier.

You do your best. You prepare his meals, keep the house tidy, and bring him tea whenever he settles by the fire. It’s a routine, one you’ve fallen into without complaint. But no matter how much you do, his spirit doesn’t seem to lift.

Today, it’s worse.

“Here you go, Grandpa,” you say softly as you hand him a cup of tea.

He stares at it for a moment before his hand trembles, the cup slipping from his fingers and shattering against the floor.

“Grandpa!” you gasp, crouching to pick up the shards. “Are you okay?”

His hands clench into fists in his lap, and his shoulders shake as he inhales sharply. “They shouldn’t have gone,” he mutters, his voice low and strained.

You pause, glancing up at him. “Grandpa—”

“They shouldn’t have gone!” he snaps suddenly, his voice rising. He slams his hand down on the arm of his chair, his breathing heavy. “Makomo, Giyuu, Sabito… They weren’t ready. I shouldn’t have let them.”

You freeze, the pieces of broken cup slipping from your hands. You’ve never heard him raise his voice like this.

“They had so much potential,” he continues, his voice breaking. “And now they’re gone. Gone because I didn’t protect them.”

Your chest tightens, the words cutting deeper than you expect. “Grandpa… It’s not your fault. You did everything you could to-”

He cuts you off sharply. “Y/N, forget your training. You will never go to the Final Selection.”

The room falls silent with his words hanging heavy in the air.

“What?” you whisper as your heart sinks from your chest.

“You heard me,” he says firmly, turning away to face the fire. “I forbid it. You will not follow their path.”

Your fists clench at your sides. “But… I’ve been training for years! I split the boulder. You can’t just-”

“I can,” he says, his voice cold and final. “And I will. I won’t lose my own granddaughter, too.”

He sinks into the chair with his head bowed. His hands tremble as he grips the blanket draped over his lap.

You stare at him for a long moment. You want to argue, to tell him how unfair it is, but the sight of his hunched figure- so small and fragile- stops you.

With a soft sigh, you gather the broken pieces of the cup and throw them out. Then, you grab another blanket and drape it over his shoulders. “Goodnight, Grandpa,” you murmur, your voice barely heard in his ears.

He doesn’t respond.

The mountain air is cold, biting at your cheeks as you step onto the trail. After wishing your grandpa goodnight and watching him slip off to his room, you grab your sword and slide it into its sheath as you step outside.

The forest is quiet tonight, the trees standing tall and shadowy under the moon. But there’s also something different about tonight- something that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You pause with your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. The air feels heavier now, with the faint scent of iron drifting in the breeze.

Then, you hear it. The low growl of a demon.

Your breath catches and your hand tightens on your sword as your eyes scan the darkness around you. The sound grows louder, closer, and you step into a defensive stance with your heart pounding in your chest.

When the demon emerges from the shadows, the first thing you notice is its eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Then, it lunges toward you.

You unsheath your sword in one swift motion, your blade catching the slight as you swing. Your breathing slows, your focus sharpening as you move.

The demon is fast with erratic movements, but you are faster. You dodge its strikes with ease, your feet moving lightly across the ground.

You inhale deeply, feeling the cold air fill up your lungs, the familiar rush of energy coursing through you. But… it’s not the calm, steady flow of water breathing that Urokodaki taught you. It’s something else- something closer to the wind itself.

You swing your sword, the air around you shifting with the force of your strike. The blade cuts cleanly through the demon’s arm and it lets out a shriek, stumbling back.

Again, you leap forward. Your blade moves like a blur when you strike again. You can feel the wind swirl around you, tearing right through the demon’s defenses. In one final motion, you bring your sword down and slice through its neck.

Finally, the demon crumples to the ground and dissolves into ash that scatters in the breeze. You stand there for a moment, catching your breath, your sword still gripped tightly in your hand.

As the adrenaline fades away, your mind starts wandering. You realize you’ve never told your granpd about this- about the way your breathing technique feels different, or about how the wind answers you better than water ever did.

You don’t even know what it is, really. It just feels… right. Like it’s always been a part of you, even if you don’t fully understand it.

As you watch the demon fade away, you sheath your sword and let out a breath. Whatever it is, you know one thing for sure: it’s yours.

And one day you’ll have to tell him.

But not yet.

For now, you turn back to the house, the cold wind brushing against your skin as you walk. 

And for the first time in days, you let yourself smile.

Chapter Text

It’s been quiet on the mountain lately. Almost, too quiet, but you’ve learned to appreciate it. That is until the sound of footsteps crunching on the trail pulls your attention.

A boy younger than you appears over the horizon with red hair and eyes that shine with determination. On his back is a straw basket and in his hand is a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” he calls out, his voice polite but still firm. “Do you know where Mr. Urokodaki lives?”

You slide your sword back into its sheath as you turn to face him. “Who’s asking?”

He hesitates for a moment before bowing deeply. “My name is Tanjiro Kamado. I’ve come to ask for his guidance.”

“His guidance?” you scoff, your eyes dropping to the basket on his back. “What’s in the box?”

His posture stiffens and he takes a small step back. “It’s… important. I need to keep it with me.”

You eye him skeptically for a moment while crossing your arms. Your grandpa such as hell isn’t about to guide another fourteen-year-old boy after the shit show with the other two. So, “Fine,” you nod. “Follow me.”

You then show Tanjiro back to your home and call for your grandpa. He steps into the room and eyes the boy at your side just as skeptically as you did. Then, he notices the note in his hand.

“Y/N,” he says steadily. “Give us a moment.”

You nod as you step aside, allowing Urokodaki to walk Tanjiro into the next room. You stay where you are, your eyes narrowing slightly as you watch Tanjiro follow your grandpa with a determined expression.

The following evening you sit on the floor of the main room, staring at the basket now resting near the corner. Urokodaki had agreed to let Tanjiro stay. You decided not to ask him why, though you’re pretty sure it has something to do with the demon sister he mentioned.

Nezuko.

She’s been asleep since they arrived, her face resting peacefully on Makomo’s old futon. And, as you kneel beside her, a pang of guilt settles in your chest.

With a soft sigh, you dampen a cloth and gently dab it across her forehead. Her skin is cool to the touch, and you adjust the blanket over her, tucking it in carefully.

“She doesn’t look like much of a demon,” you mutter to yourself.

The door then slides open, and you look up to see Urokodaki returning from Tanjiro’s first training session. His mask hides his expression, but you can tell he’s tired after not training for so long.

You sit back, pressing your lips in a thin line as he walks past you. God, your stomach is churning with frustration at him, but you decide not to say anything. Not yet.

A few nights later while Tanjiro’s still out training in the dark, you sit across from him in front of the fire, a tray of tea between you. You pour a cup carefully, sliding it toward him before wrapping your hands around your own cup.

“Grandpa…” you start, keeping your voice soft but firm. “Can I start training again?”

He looks at you, silent for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “Y/N, I already know you train. I see the nicks in your sword, the wear in your haori. Why bother asking for my permission?”

You blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. “You’ve seen me?”

“Of course.” He picks up his tea and takes a slow sip. “You’ve always been a stubborn one. I knew you wouldn’t stop just because I’d asked.”

His words sting, though you can’t tell if it’s because they’re true or because of the way he says them. You grip your cup a bit tighter, looking down at the tea inside.

“Do you plan on letting Tanjiro go to the Final Selection?” you ask, your voice quieter.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he sets his cup down. “What business is that of yours?”

You stiffen, your frustration bubbling over. “Because you and I have both seen what happens! Sabito, Makomo-”

“Enough.” His voice is sharp as he cuts you off. “Y/N, all I’ve ever done is try to protect you. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve said, has been for your sake. Not because I hate you, but because I can’t lose you too. You’re all I have. You know what my daughter- your mother- is like.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and the anger drains from your body. You sigh as you lower your gaze. “I’m sorry,” you murmur.

He doesn’t respond, simply leaning back and staring into the fire.

The door then slides open, and you glance up to see Tanjiro stepping inside, his face red from training. He pauses, immediately sensing the tension in the room, and looks between you and Urokodaki.

You quickly rise and brush your hands against your haori. “Goodnight, Grandpa. Tanjiro,” you say softly before walking past Tanjiro and out of the room.

As you step outside, your heart burns with emotions you can’t quite name. Above you, the stars shimmer faintly, and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if Sabito and Makomo are watching.

And somewhere out there, Giyuu too.

The sound of wooden swords clashing fills the clearing as you and Tanjiro spar under the morning sun. His movements are strong but not as fast as yours, and you manage to dodge his strikes with ease, countering quickly.

“You’re incredible,” Tanjiro says in the middle of his swing.

You block his strike and roll your eyes. “You’re not bad yourself, Kamado. But compliments won’t keep you from losing.”

“I’m not trying to,” he says with a small grin. “I just thought you should know.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitate. But you can recover quickly and step into a clean counterstrike.

“Well, thanks, but focus on your footwork. I can see exactly where you’re going before you even swing.”
He nods and adjusts his stance. Almost immediately his movements become sharper. “You’re a tough teacher.”

“Good,” you reply with a smirk, meeting his wooden sword with a clack . “You need it.”

The sparring continues for a few more rounds before Tanjiro steps back and rests his sword on his shoulder. He looks at you with a softening expression. “Can I ask you something?”

You stiffen slightly and narrow your eyes. “Depends.”

He swings again, but this time you catch his blade mid-air and angle it away before quickly bringing your own wooden sword to hover just under his neck. He stops and raises his hands slightly, though he doesn’t lose his composure. 

“Why do you want to know?” you ask sharply, a bit more defensive than you intended.

“Well,” he says, lowering his sword as you step back, “we’re going to be around each other for a while and I wanted to know more about you. Like, did you always live on this mountain? The air must feel natural if you have.”

You hesitate, but the grip on your sword tightens. Though the question is harmless, it still puts you on edge. 

“No,” you answer, lowering your sword but keeping it in your hand. “I grew up in a village before I came to live with my grandpa.”

Tanjiro nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense. You seem like someone who’s been through a lot.”

You blink at his words, not sure if they’re meant as a compliment, but there’s no bad intent in his voice. He then hums softly and tilts his head slightly.

“So if you’ve been here for a while… Did you know Mr. Giyuu?” he asks.

The name hits you like a blade to the chest. Before you can think, your sword is back up, the tip pointed directly between his eyes.

“Don’t,” you snap, your voice cold. “Don’t ever say that name again.”

Tanjiro blinks. But he doesn’t flinch. “Why?” he asks softly.

You scoff. “Because he’s a traitor. He abandoned me. He abandoned Grandpa. He didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye… or tell us what happened…”

Tanjiro frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “That doesn’t sound like Mr. Giyuu. He wouldn’t-”

“He did,” you cut him off, your grip on your sword tightening once again. “So don’t talk about him again. He’s dead to me. Worse than dead,” you explain, trailing off at the end.

Tanjiro watches you closely, his eyes filled with something that makes your chest ache- understanding, maybe, or pity.

“I hope you and Mr. Giyuu get to meet up someday,” he says quickly. “And talk it out.”

You let out a sharp laugh, stepping back and lowering your sword completely. “Not a chance. I’m done talking to that traitor as long as I live.”

His shoulders slump slightly, and his voice softens. “I understand. But that does make me feel sad for you both. You’re really good people and I think you’d see that if you heard his side.”

The sincerity in his voice stirs something in you, and before you can stop yourself, you pull him into a quick side hug, your arm wrapping around his shoulders.

The moment surprises you as a sudden pang of memory flashes through your mind. Sabito used to hug you like this- causal, teasing, yet always reminding you that he had your back.

You stiffen slightly, letting go almost as quickly as you began. “You can never not see the good in people, huh?” you say, forcing a bright laugh to cover the discomfort rising in your chest.

Tanjiro chuckles softly. “I guess not. There’s always good to be found.”

You glance at him with a strange mix of fondness and hesitation. He’s so much like Sabito in some ways- kind, determined, always believing in the best. But that’s what scares you.

You don’t want to get too attached. Not again.

People like Sabito and Makomo, like Tanjiro- they’re always the ones who disappear. The ones you can’t keep.

“Probably right,” you shrug, taking a step back. “But it’s unlikely.”

Tanjiro’s expression shifts slightly, a small hopeful smile tugs on his lips.

“Now,” you say, raising your sword again. “Enough of this. Let’s get back to sparring. Or are you too tired already?”
He grins and raises his sword to match yours. “Not even close!”

The two of you clash again. But as you strike and counter, you can’t help but wonder if Tanjiro will disappear someday too.

Chapter Text

The morning sun shines through the trees as you slide your sword into its sheath, its weight settling at your side. The sound of the front door sliding open then pulls your attention, and you glance over your shoulder to see Tanjiro stepping outside. His face is bright and determined, but his usual warmth softens the intensity in his eyes.

“Ready to go?” you ask, brushing the dirt from your hands.

“Actually,” he says, his tone careful, “can I show you something first? I’d really like your advice on something.”

Your brow furrows slightly, but you nod. “Sure. Lead the way.”

He smiles gratefully, motioning for you to follow him. You trail behind as he veers off the usual training path, leading you a bit deeper into the woods. The air grows quieter, the trees feeling taller, until you step into a small clearing.

There, standing in the center like a challenge from the gods, is the largest boulder you’ve ever seen.

Your eyes widen, your stomach dropping at the sight of it. But you quickly calm your expression, forcing a casual tone. “What’s this?”

Tanjiro doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. He walks up to the boulder and rests a hand on its surface. “Urokodaki gave it to me,” he explains, his voice steady though laced with a hint of unease. “He said if I can slice it in half, I can go to the Final Selection.”

You feel your blood boil and your teeth grinding against each other as a sharp anger bubbles inside you. You clench your fists, willing the feeling away before it shows visibly on your face.

Tanjiro looks at you, his sharp eyes catching the faint shift in your demeanor. “Y/N… are you okay?”

You wave your hand dismissively, plastering a strained smile on your lips. “I’m fine. Just wondering what you wanted advice about is all.”

He hesitates for a moment, then steps back from the boulder, turning to face you fully. “Well… slicing it,” he says with an awkward laugh. “You’ve already done yours, right? What was your method?”

His words stop you in your tracks. Your method? Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips. He knows. He’s known this whole time… that you were playing dumb.

You try to recover and shrug casually. “Yeah, well, it’s different for everybody,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He tilts his head to the side, clearly unconvinced but too polite to push. “Hmm.”

“I’m hungry,” you blurt out, turning on your heel. “I’m heading back for a bit.”

“But we just got here,” Tanjiro says, his confusion quite evident. “I thought we were going to spar!”

“I’ll be quick,” you say, waving over your shoulder. “Be right back! You think about that rock, yeah?”

You leave before he can say anymore, your feet carrying you quickly down the path toward the house.

You slam the door open, startling your grandpa as he prepares himself a cup of tea by the fire. 

“Are you out of your mind?!” you yell, storming into the room.

He doesn’t look up as he continues to pour his tea into a cup. “Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

“No, no, don’t ‘good morning’ me!” you snap, pointing toward the door. “How could you give him a boulder? That boulder? And let him think he can go to Final Selection?”

“If it’s meant to be, it will be,” Urokodi says simply, taking a slow sip of his tea. 

His words stop you in your tracks, and you stare at him dumbfounded. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

He sets his cup down, his expression completely calm. “Yes.”

“God, Grandpa,” you step closer, your frustration peaking. “What if he doesn’t come back, huh? What if he ends up like Sabito and Makomo?” Your voice cracks slightly, but you push through. “Don’t you care about him? Don’t you care about him being here for his sister?”

Your gaze flickers to the sleeping girl in the corner of the room. The sight only fuels your anger, though it’s tinged with a sadness you can’t shake.

Urokodaki sighs, finally meeting your gaze. “Y/N,” he says, his voice somehow even softer now. “I understand how you feel. But this is his path to walk.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the weight in his tone stops you. There’s no point in challenging him further- his mind is made up.
“Fine,” you mutter, turning away. “But don’t expect me to help.”

A few evenings later, you sit at the low table pushing your food around your plate. Next to you, Tanjiro carefully eats his rice, his movements slower than usual as if he’s lost in thought. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glance up, raising an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You let out a breath. “If it’s about the boulder, I’d rather not.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. You had come clean to him about breaking your boulder yet not being allowed to go to Final Selection. 

“It’s not about the boulder,” he says, though he pauses right after and you notice a change in his expression. “It’s about your friend.”

You frown, setting your chopsticks down. “I swear if you say his-”

“Sabito,” he says gently. “He told me to tell you… he got you the flowers. And he’s watching over you, even when you don’t see him.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, and your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes water, your vision blurring as the weight of his words settles over you.

“I’m sorry,” Tanjiro says quickly, his voice filling with concern. “I really didn’t mean to upset you-”

You shake your head, unable to speak as the tears spill over. Before you know it, he’s moved closer and is wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “I just thought you should know. Sabito… he really wanted you to know he’s here for you.”

You clutch his sleeve, your shoulders shaking as you cry into the fabric. The thought of Sabito, his bright smile and teasing voice, is almost too much to bear. But at the same time, it feels like a small piece of him is still with you. Now more than ever. 

When your sobs quiet down, you pull back slightly and wipe your face. Tanjior offers you a small, reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse. “For telling me.”

Just then, Urokodaki walks into the room. He sits across from you, his gaze steady on the tea in his hands as he sits down.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins. “If Tanjiro can break his boulder by the end of this year… you both can go to Final Selection.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, wide-eyed. “You mean it?”

He nods, though his expression remains serious. “Yes. It’s better than sending either of you alone, that’s for certain.”

Without thinking, you lunge forward, knocking over your food as you throw your arms around him. 

“Thank you, Grandpa!” you cry, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

He laughs, patting your back gently. “Yes, well, only if Tanjiro breaks that boulder.” He glances at Tanjiro. “And maybe some help from Y/N wouldn’t hurt.”

You pull back, sitting properly as you nod quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Tanjiro smiles, though he looks a little stunned at the mess you made. “I won’t let you down, Master Y/N,” he says earnestly. 

You laugh as you wrap your arm around your neck and pull him in close to your side. “Yeah, you better not!”

The clearing is quiet as you and Tanjiro circle each other, the sun casting long shadows across the ground as your blades connect again and again.

“Focus on your breathing,” you say, your voice steady despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You’re cutting off the flow when you step in. That’s why your swings are losing power.”

“Got it!” Tanjiro replies, stepping back to reset his stance. His determination is admirable, even if his execution still has a long way to go.

You shift your feet, raising your sword. “Again!”

He lunges, his blade aimed for your side, but you block it easily, redirecting his strike with a smooth twist of your wrist. Your movements are fluid, deliberate- the way your grandpa taught you- but they lack the sharpness you know you’re capable of.

Because you’re holding back.

Your grip tightens on your sword as you deflect another swing, your chest aching with the weight of the secret you’ve been carrying. Water breathing flows well enough, but it’s not yours. It never has been.

Wind is what you should be using.

The thought sneaks into your mind, but you push it away as quickly as it comes.

“Y/N?” Tanjiro’s voice pulls you back to the present, and you realize you’ve stopped moving. He lowers his sword slightly and tilts his head. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say quickly, straightening your stance. “Just focus on you, Kamado.”

He nods, his brow furrowing in concentration as he adjusts his grip. You exhale slowly, trying to steady yourself.

You’ve been using water breathing for years, ever since Urokodaki took you in. It’s what he taught you, what he expected from you. But no matter how hard you tried, it never felt right.

Wind breathing, on the other hand, came naturally. The sharp, cutting motions, the way it moved with you instead of against you- it was as though it had been a part of you all along. But you never told anyone.

Not Urokodaki. Not Tanjiro.

The idea of admitting it now filled you with dread. And now just because it’s different, but because it reminds you of your past. Of the life you left behind.

And so, you bury it. You force yourself to use water breathing, even though it’s subpar. Even though you know it’s not enough.

But it’s safe. It’s what’s expected.

“Y/N,” Tanjiro says, pulling your attention back to him. He points to the boulder in the distance. “Can you show me that form again? The one you used to deflect my strike.”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Watch carefully,” you say, stepping into position. 

You swing your sword in a smooth arc, the motion nearly textbook-perfect but lacking the force it should have. Tanjior watches closely, his eyes narrowing as he studies your movements.

“Your breathing…” he hums. “It didn’t match the strike, did it?”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression neutral. “It did,” you scoff. “You’re just not paying close enough attention.”

He tilts his head, unconvinced. “But I was. And it felt like… I don’t know. Like something was missing.”

You grip your sword tighter, the weight of his observation pressing against your chest. “You’re overthinking it,” you say sharply, turning away. “Focus on your own technique, not mine.”

Tanjiro flinches slightly at your tone but doesn’t argue. “You’re right! Sorry.”

Guilt twists in your stomach as you glance back at him. Is it really that obvious?

You sheath your sword and force a smile. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been working hard.”

Chapter Text

The mask rests in Urokodaki’s hands, its smooth surface painted with the same protective markings as the others he’s made. He holds it out to you, but your chest tightens at the sight of it.

“No way!”

“Y/N, it’s for your own protection,” he says simply, his voice steady. “Don’t be a brat.”

You stare at it, your fingers twitching at your sides. The mask is so familiar- too familiar. Memories of Sabito flash through your mind: his teasing grin, the way he’d nudge you when you doubted yourself. It’s the mask he wore during his final days.

You take a step back, shaking your head. “I don’t care. I’m not wearing it.”

Urokodaki doesn’t flinch, though his head tilts slightly. “It’s necessary, Y/N.”

“It’ll just slow me down,” you scoff, looking away. “Please, Grandpa, don’t you have any faith in me?”

For a moment, he says nothing, his expression unreadable behind his own mask. Then, with a quiet sigh, he lowers his hands.

“Very well,” he says, turning to Tanjiro.

The boy watches the exchange, his brows furrowing in concern, but when Urokodaki holds out another mask, his expression brightens.

“Thank you,” Tanjiro says, bowing deeply as he accepts it. He holds it carefully, studying the intricate design. 

You glance at them out of the corner of your eye, your arms crossed as you pout slightly. The sight of the mask feels like a weight in your chest, but you push the feelings aside, straightening your posture.

“Come on, Kamado. Let’s just get this over with,” you mutter, turning toward the downward slope of the mountain.

As you turn your back to your grandpa, you feel a firm hand grab yours. You turn, startled, and find yourself pulled into a tight embrace.

“Grandpa?” you whisper, your eyes widening.

He holds you close, his voice low but filled with an intensity you’re not used to. “You’d better come back to me, granddaughter,” he says, his tone breaking slightly. “If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.”

Your breath catches, and you clutch the fabric of his haori- the same blue and white cloud pattern as yours. The familiarity of it grounds you as you nod against his shoulder.

“I promise,” you say quietly, though your voice trembles.

He pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you. “Good. Now get out of here, kids.”

You nod, stepping back and adjusting the strap of your sword. As you head toward the door, you glance back once more, catching the way his gaze lingers on both of you.

Tanjiro waves cheerfully, his mask tucked under his arm. “We’ll be back soon!”

Urokodaki says nothing, but the faintest nod of his head is all the reassurance you need.

The path down the mountain is steep and winding, the air growing heavier as you descend. You walk slightly ahead of Tanjiroo, your arms crossed as you replay your grandpa’s words in your mind.

“If I die, my grandpa’s gonna friggin’ kill me,” you mutter, kicking a loose rock on the trail.

Tanjiro chuckles softly as he walks up beside you. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Y/N.”

You glare at him, but the corner of your mouth twitches. “How would you know?”

He grins, his usual warmth cutting right through the tension in your chest. “Hey, I have an idea! How about I tell you a joke?”

“A joke?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Do you even know any jokes, Kamado?”

“Of course I do!” he says, linking his arm with yours pulling you along. “I used to tell them to my siblings all the time! Okay, here goes: Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

You sigh, humoring him. “Why?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field!”

The silence that follows is loud. You blink at him for a moment before groaning and pushing away from his side. “That’s the word joke I’ve ever heard! You really suck at that, you know!”
Tanjiro laughs, unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm. “You smiled, though. I saw it!”

“I did not,” you grumble, shooing the air with your hand.

He then nearly skips ahead and bends down at the ground. “What’re you?-” you begin as you watch him pluck a handful of flowers from the side of the trail.

“Here,” he says, holding them out to you.

You glance at them, unimpressed. “Those are weeds.”

“No they’re not!” he protests, his cheeks reddening slightly.

You snatch the bouquet from him, muttering under your breath. “You wouldn’t know either. You grew up in the mountains same as me!”

“Well, I think they’re flowers,” he says, walking beside you again. “And I bet Sabito would’ve said they’re flowers too.”

“Didn’t I tell you never to say his name!”

“Wha- No! You never said that!” 

“Hmph,” you mutter, glancing down at your bouquet, the bright colors standing out against the dull dirt of the trail below you. “Well, thanks, I guess,” you then add softly, slipping the flowers into the sash of your haori.

Tanjiro beams as he watches the gesture.

As you continue down the trail, the air grows thicker and the weight settles heavily on your chest. Your breaths come shorter, and you slow your pace. 

“Tanjiro,” you say quietly. “It’s odd breathing down here.”

He stops, turning to you with concern. “Huh, really? Well, the air is heavier here than the mountain.”

You nod, trying to take a deep breath, but it feels like your lungs can’t quite expand fully.

“If you’re not feeling good, let me know,” he says, his tone firm but kind. “We can take a break whenever you need.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual.

He nods, his bright smile returning. “We’re going to be fine, Y/N. I can feel it.”

You don’t reply, but his optimism is enough to keep you moving forward.

Before too long, you and Tanjiro step into the clearing where the Final Selection is set to take place. The air is already thick with tension, the weight of unspoken fears and determination hanging over the group of participants gathered beneath the wisteria.

Your breath catches as you look around. Purple flowers drape down from the trees in waves, their petals swaying gently in the cool breeze. They glow faintly, too, in the moonlight. 

Your fingers twitch, and without thinking, you reach out to touch one of the blossoms.

Sabito promised to bring these back.

The thought hits you hard, and your chest tightens. This is where he passed away.

“I’ll bring you back some of the wisteria petals,” he’d said, as if failure was never a possibility.

And then there was Tanjiro- it feels like just minutes ago he was telling you that Sabito was watching over you. “He got you the flowers,” he had said, and for a fleeting moment, it had felt like Sabito was still with you, his presence lingering in the wind.

You let the flower slip through your fingers, brushing lightly against your skin.

Tanjiro then nudges you gently, breaking the moment. “You okay?”

You blink, glancing at him before straightening your posture. “Yeah,” you say quickly, pulling your hand back.” Just… thinking.”

He doesn’t press further, though his warm smile is reassuring as he looks around the clearing. You follow his gaze, taking in the small group of participants gathered nearby.

You’re the oldest one here… by far. Nobody else looks over eighteen. 

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and you cross your arms tightly over your chest. It’s embarrassing, standing here among kids who look younger, so much more nervous. But what hits harder is the reminder of how much time you’ve spent waiting, all of the years you’ve spent trapped on that mountain.

You swallow the lump in your throat and let your gaze wander, observing the others.

A girl with a butterfly clip in her hair catches your eye first. She looks calm, composed, her expression unreadable as she adjusts the hilt of her sword. There’s something about her silence that makes you take notice, though you quickly look away before she can catch you staring.

Nearby, a boy is pacing back and forth, wringing his hands nervously. He looks like he’s about to pass out, his face pale and his breathing uneven.

And then there’s him.

Leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing is a boy who looks like he’s barely containing a storm inside of him. His arms are crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched tightly as he glares at nothing in particular. Everything about him screams ‘angry’, from the tension in his shoulders to the sharp edge in his eyes.

You make a mental note of avoiding him at all costs. There’s no way you’re getting caught up in whatever bad mood he’s carrying around. Without thinking, you turn your gaze away quickly, hardly giving him a second glance.

“Do you think we’re all here?” Tanjiro asks, his voice cutting through the silence. 

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your sword. “Probably. They wouldn’t wait forever.”

Tanjiro hums thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the clearing. “It’s smaller than I expected. I thought there’d be more people.”

“Maybe there were,” you say quietly, your gaze drifting back to the wisteria flowers. “Maybe they didn’t all make it this far.”

The words hang in the air between you, unspoken fears taking root in the quiet. But Tanjiro doesn’t let them linger for long. 

“We’ll make it, Y/N,” he says firmly. “Together.”

You glance at him, his optimism cutting through your nerves like sunlight breaking through a storm. For a moment, you let yourself believe him.

“Yeah,” you say softly, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “Together.”

Your vision blurs, the world around you twisting and doubling until it feels like you’re standing on shifting ground. You blink rapidly, trying to steady yourself, but the sensation doesn’t fade.

“Did that demon just say…” you mutter, your voice faint even to your own ears. “The others… with the warding masks?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the chaos, but it sounds distant, muffled, like he’s calling to you from underwater. “Y/N! Look out!”

The demon ahead grins, its eyes glimmering in the moonlight as it tosses something into the air. Time seems to slow as the object spins, catching the faint glow of the wisteria trees before it lands on the ground with a hollow clink .

A mask.

A kitsune mask, cracked and splintered, with a single purple petal stuck to its surface.

Your breath catches, your body freezing completely. You stare at the mask, your chest tightening as the world narrows among you. There’s no mistaking it. It’s Sabito’s mask. You’d recognize it anywhere.

Wind rushes past your neck, sharp and electric, like a storm bubbling under your skin. But you can’t move. You’re stuck in your own head, the weight of memories and grief pinning you in place. 

“Y/N!”

Tanjiro’s voice calls louder, more urgent, but you can’t respond. Your feet feel like they’re rooted to the ground, your hands trembling as your gaze remains locked on the mask.

You can’t move.

The demon lunges, claws glinting as it rushes toward you. You hear Tanjiro shout again, but he’s too far away. You’re alone.

And then-

BOOM.

A loud shot rings out, tearing through the air and snapping you back to reality. The demon stumbles, its attack interrupted, and a figure appears in your periphery.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, an arm wraps around your waist, yanking you out of the demon’s path. The sudden motion knocks the breath from your lungs, and you stumble slightly as you’re pulled to safety.

You blink, your vision clearing just enough to see the ‘angry’ boy from earlier standing in front of you. His face glimmers in the moonlight. 

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, his tone gruff but low.

Your face flushes with embarrassment, your cheeks heating as you realize how close this stranger is. Being saved by someone Tanjiro’s age feels like a blow to your pride, and you step back quickly, brushing off your haori.

“Yeah, thank you,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, something flickers in his eyes- familiarity, maybe, or curiosity- but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he turns on his heel and walks away.

You watch him go, your heart still pounding. There’s something about him, something that causes you to take a step closer to him before stopping yourself.

Did you see him on the way to the Final Selection? You wonder, your eyebrows furrowing. Or… have you met him before?

Shaking your head, you glance back at the mask on the ground. The purple petal still clings to its surface and a lump forms in your throat.

Tanjiro’s voice pulls you back again. “Y/N! Are you okay?”

You turn to him, watching as he still fights the demon. “Yeah, worry ‘bout yourself, Kamado! How many times do I have to explain that to you!” you shout as you rush to his aid. 

Like you said, you’re in this together.

Chapter Text

The wisteria trees sway in the breeze as you stand back in the clearing, the remnants of the Final Selection fading behind you. Your whole body aches and exhaustion pulls at each of your movements, but you made it.

You passed.

Bayside you, Tanjiro lets out a deep, relieved breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension finally leaves his body. He turns to you, a tired but genuine smile on his face.

“We did it, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice carrying a mix of pride and disbelief.

You nod, your lips curling into a faint smile. “Yeah. We did.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there in silence, letting the weight of your survival settle in. But then his expression shifts, his eyebrows furrowing as if a thought has just occurred to him.

“Hey,” he starts, glancing at you. “Can I ask you something?”

You hum as you tilt your head at him. “What is it?”

“When we were fighting that demon,” he says carefully, “the one that… killed…” he trails off, the words sticking in his throat. He doesn’t need to finish for you to understand.

“Just spit it out, Kamado,” you say, your chest tightening slightly.

“Your breathing technique,” he says after a moment, his eyes searching yours. “It seemed different. It’s not like your grandpa’s water breathing. And I’ve never seen you use it before.”

You stiffen slightly, your grip on the strap or your sword tightening. “I don’t really know what it is,” you admit, your voice quieter than usual.

Tanjiro tilts his head curiously. “Does Master Urokodaki know about it?”

You shake your head and avoid his gaze. “No.”

He watches you for a moment, his expression thoughtful but not judgemental. “It was really strong,” he says softly. “It helped a lot. You were great.”

You glance at him, your chest aching with a mix of pride and guilt. “Thanks,” you mutter, though the words feel heavy.

Before he can say anything else, a commotion nearby catches your attention.

Your eyes land on the boy with the perpetually angry expression, the one you’ve been carefully avoiding since the start of Final Selection despite saving your life. He’s standing by one of the hosts, his hand gripping her hair tightly as he glares down at her. His movements are rough, his voice sharp as he demands something fo her.

Your heart skips a beat, a strange sense of familiarity washing over you yet again. God, if he didn’t look so damn angry all the time he might even look…

You narrow your eyes, your head tilting slightly as you study him.

Why does he look so familiar?

The thought digs into your mind, persistent and unrelenting. You think harder, trying to place him, but the effort sends a dull ache through your head.

“Y/N?” Tanjiro’s voice pulls you back to the present.

You shake your head slightly, the headache easing as you look away from the boy. “Sorry,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

Tanjiro nods, his expression soft with understanding. “Let’s head back. Master Urokodaki will be so proud.”

You nod in agreement, but as you follow Tanjiro away from the clearing, your thoughts remain on the boy with the angry eyes.

Who is he?

The familiar sight of your grandpa’s house comes into view as you and Tanjior climb the last stretch of the trail. Exhaustion weighs heavily on your legs, but the thought of being home propels you forward.

Urokodaki is waiting for you at the front steps, his calm presence a reassurance. As soon as you step onto the porch, he places a hand on your head, his touch surprisingly gently.

“Well done,” he says simply.

Your cheeks burn at the praise, and you glance away quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“You’ve made me proud, granddaughter.”

Your lips twitch into a small grin despite yourself.

“Now,” he continues, stepping back, “I’ll make you your favorite ramen tonight.”

Your eyes light up, and you beam at him. “Really?”

He nods, his mask tilting slightly as he looks at Tanjiro. “There’s a surprise waiting for you inside.”
Tanjior blinks, his expression shifting from tired confusion into a cautious curiosity. “A surprise?”

Urokodaki gestured toward the door. “Go no. See for yourself.”

The two of you exchange glances before Tanjiro moves to slide the door open.

As soon as it opens, a blur of pink and black rushes forward. 

“Nezuko!” Tanjiro cries out, his voice cracking.

His sister bounds into his arms, wrapping him into a hug as he face presses into his chest. She hums softly, her joy obvious even without words.

Tanjiro clutches her tightly, his eyes wide with disbelief and happiness. “You’re awake…” he whispers, his voice trembling. “You’re really awake!”

You step inside slowly, your gaze flicking between the siblings as your chest aches with a bittersweet warmth. The bond they share is so strong, so unshakable. How could you not feel moved?

“How long has she been awake?” you ask, turning to your grandpa, who stands quietly in the doorway.

“Not long,” he replies, his voice soft. “Just a few days.”

“Thank you,” Tanjiro says suddenly, turning to Urokodaki with gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you for watching over her.!”

Urokodaki bows his head slightly. “She’s part of the family. Of course I would.”

The words settle in your chest like a warm flame, flickering softly by steadily. For all his gruffness, your grandpa has always been someone who makes you feel safe- loved, even.

You step further inside as he shuts the door behind himself. “Grandpa,” you say, your tone lighter now, “you better make good on that ramen.”

He chuckles softly. “You have my word. Set up the table for me, will you?”

The caws of your kasugai crows echo through the air, the calls sharp. As soon as they deliver their message, you and Tanjiro prepare to depart.

The path Urokodaki directed you to take is unfamiliar, winding through thick forests and narrow trails that seem to stretch endlessly. The air grows warmer once you descend the mountain.

But then, in the distance, a commotion breaks the silence.

“Please, marry me!” a voice wails, desperate and high-pitched.

You and Tanjiro exchanged confused glances before hurrying toward the source of the noise.

Along the path, a boy with blond hair is kneeling dramatically before a girl who looks seconds away from bolting… if she could, that is. His hands are clasped together in pleading, his voice carrying through the wind.

“You’re the only one for me! Please!”

You lean closer to Tanjiro, your voice lowering to a whisper. “Does his look familiar to you?”

Tanjior tilts his head, squinting slightly. “Yeah… Wasn’t he at Final Selection?”

You snap your fingers, realization dawning. “Oh, yeah. That’s it!”

The girl finally breaks away, muttering something about needing to be anywhere else, but the boy doesn’t give up. He chases after her until you step in front of him, raising a hand.

“Hey!” you call out, stopping him in his tracks. “You can’t just go around forcing girls to marry you!”

“Whaaa!” he beams, looking up at you with stars in his eyes. “How ‘bout you, huh? Will you marry me?”

“No way,” Tanjiro answers. “Miss Y/N can do way better than someone like you!”

The boy spins to face Tanjiro, his wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto him. “That’s easy for you to say!” he cries, pointing a trembling finger at you. “You’ve already got a girlfriend!”

“What?!” you and Tanjiro exclaim in unison, your voices overlapping.

You throw your hands up, shaking your head. “No way! He’s not even eighteen!”

The boy blinks, his shift from devastated to intrigued. “Huh? Then how old are you?”

“Geez, don’t you know better than to ask a girl her age?” you scoff, crossing your arms and looking away in mock disproval. “But if you have to know, I’m twenty.”

Tanjiro freezes, his gaze snapping to you. “Wait. You just turned twenty?”

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at him curiously. “Didn’t you… know that?”

His eyebrows furrow. “When?”

You pause, feeling the fainted twinge of embarrassment. “During Final Seleciton.”

His jaw drops. “You didn’t tell me?!”

“It wasn’t exactly the right time!” you shoot back, your hands on your hips.

Before Tanjiro can respond, the blond boy’s face lights up. “That’s perfect! Happy Birthday!” he exclaims, his voice breaking into a tuneless rendition of a ‘Happy Birthday” song as he steps closer.

You blink, caught off guard, but his enthusiasm doesn’t diminish. “Marry me, please! Or wait for me, Miss Y/N!” he adds dramatically at the end, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.

You groan, placing a hand on his face and pushing him away. “Get off of me, idiot!”

Tanjior sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s your problem anyway?” he asks, his voice tinged with exasperation.

The boy doesn’t answer right away, instead pointing up toward a distant mountain. “I have to go up there, but I know if I do, I’ll die!”

You follow his gaze, squinting at the imposing peak in the distance. “Oh, that’s where we’re headed, too,” you say.

Tanjior hums in thought, nodding slightly. “We could stick together,” he suggests.

The boy hesitates for a moment, then nods as if realizing going together is better than alone. “Fine,” he sighs as his dramatic demeanor softens slightly. “But only because it’s safer with more people.”

You roll your eyes but offer a faint smile. “Sure. Why not?”

The journey up the mountain is grueling. Tanjiro remains cheerful for the three of you despite the difficulty of the terrain growing steeper with each step. Meanwhile, the blond boy- Zenitsu, he introduces himself- complains constantly.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he whines, clutching his knees during one of his frequent breaks.

“No,” you reply dryly, adjusting the strap of your sword. “But the mountain might!”

Despite the bickers and the challenges of your climb, the three of you manage to make steady progress. 

Yet- the next thing you know- you’re waking up in a hospital you don’t recognize, the sterile scent of medicine filling the air.

Your body aches, and as your vision clears, you glance to your side, spotting Tanjiro asleep in the bed next to you. His face is pale but peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily as he sleeps.

You exhale slowly, closing your eyes again.

So this is the life of a Demon Slayer you’ve heard so much about.

Chapter Text

The sun filters softly through the windows of the Butterfly mansion as you step out of your room, the cool handle of your sword brushing against your palm. Your legs still ache from the weeks of inactivity, but the rehab training is beginning to pay off. Slowly but surely, you’re regaining your strength.

Miss Aoi and Kanao are waiting for you outside, but first, you need to drop off your sword at the training hall. The hallway is quiet, the sound of your footsteps are soft against the wood.

Just as you turn the corner, a heavy thud-thud of heavy footsteps against the floor echoes ahead.

Before you can react, someone storms past you, their shoulder slamming into yours with enough force to make you stumble.

“Hey, what the f-” you start, turning to glare at the culprit, but the words die in your throat when you see him.

It’s the boy from the Final Selection. The angry one.

He’s taller now than you realize, towering over you with broad shoulders and a scowl so sharp it could cut stone. He’s halfway past you before something shifts.

At the same time, you both stop.

He turns back, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding against your ribs. “Genya,” you whisper, the name falling from your lips without thought.

His expression hardens, his eyebrows knitting together as if your words physically struck him. For a moment, it seems like he might say something.

Instead, he grits his teeth, his jaw clenching as he turns sharply on his heel and storms away, his boots echoing down the hall.

You stand frozen, your hand clutching the hilt of your sword tightly. A dozen emotions churn in your chest, but none of them are strong enough to push you forward.

You don’t go after him.

You’re too scared.

As his figure disappears around the corner, you let out a shaky breath, your mind still racing. “Come back…”

It’s him. It’s really him.

But why didn’t he say anything? And why couldn’t you?

You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. There’s no time to focus on it now. You can’t let the past knock you off balance- not when you’re still struggling to find your footing in the present.

Gripping your sword, you turn back down the hallway, your steps slower this time. Hesitant. But even as you head toward the training grounds, the weight of his presence lingers in your chest, heavy and impossible to ignore.

The memory of Genya’s footsteps and sharp glare linger far longer than you expected. After that day, you couldn’t let it go. Something about the encounter- it was him, it had to be him.

You began asking around the Butterfly Mansion, subtly at first, dropping his description into conversations with Miss Aoi, the orderlies, and even a few of the slayers passing through. Nobody seemed to say much, though one mentioned seeing him leave the mansion the same day you saw him.

That can’t be it , you think, your frustration building with each passing day.

You’ve spent every spare moment looking for him, wandering the training grounds, peering around corners, hoping to catch another glimpse of him. But Genya didn’t return.

One afternoon, Tanjiro approaches you, his sword strapped securely to his side. His expression was soft but focused, a familiar look whenever he prepared for a mission.

“I’ve been assigned to another mission,” he says, his voice careful. “We’re leaving soon.”

You nod, though your chest tightens slightly at the thought of him leaving again. “You and Nezuko?”
He smiles warmly. “Of course.”

“Be careful,” you say, your voice firmer than you intended.

“I will.” He tilts his head slightly, his expression shifting. “What about you? Aren’t you ready to start taking missions again?”

You hesitate. “I think I’m going to stay here a bit longer,” you admit, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“But… why?” he asks, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. 

You glance away, unable to meet his gaze. “I just… have things I need to do here.”

He studies you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you in a quick hug.

“Okay,” he says softly. “But don’t push yourself too hard, alright?”

You nod, your throat tightening as you hug him back.

When Tanjiro steps away, he fixes the strap to the box on his back. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N!”

You wave as he disappears out of the room, your heart sinking slightly as the quiet of the mansion settles around you again.

With Tanjiro gone, you throw yourself into your training, sparring with Aoi and working on agility drills with Kanao. You focus on refining your techniques, pushing yourself harder each day. You’ve even allowed yourself to start using your preferred method of breathing since Grandpa wasn’t around to wonder why.

But even as you train, your thoughts wander. Every step, every swing of your sword, feels like another moment waiting for Genya to return.

Weeks pass, and still, he doesn’t come back.

You find yourself standing at the edge of the training yard one day, staring out at the horizon as if willing him to appear. The ache in your chest grows heavier with each passing day, but you can’t let it go.

And then, one afternoon, as you work through breathing exercises with Kanao in the yard, Miss Shinobu’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Y/N,” she calls to you, her tone unusually formal.

You turn, your gaze meeting hers as she stands nearby.

“What is it?” you ask, brushing the sweat from your forehead.

Shinobu smiles faintly, though there is a hint of something serious in her eyes. “You’ve been summoned to the Ubuyashiki Mansion.”

Your stomach drops, and you take an involuntary step forward. “W-Why?”
Shinobu shakes her head gently, her voice soft with apology. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know the details.”

Kanao’s eyes flicker to yours, her worry evident as she shifts her weight slightly. 

You straighten and take a slow breath to steady yourself. “Alright then.”

“Come with me,” Shinobu bows slightly. “I’ll escort you there.”

Sheathing your sword, you nod and step forward. Whatever is waiting for you at the Ubuyashiki mansion, it can’t be ignored. 

You step through the gates of the Ubuyashiki mansion, the sound of your sandals faint against the stone path below. Shinobu walks beside you, her calm presence steadying your worry, though the air feels heavier with each step closer to the building ahead.

The mansion looms ahead, and as you approach the main entrance, a faint rustling draws your attention. Most of the Hashira Kanao and Aoi have told you about are gathered, lined up neatly along the courtyard. You catch the curious gazes of a few of them as you pass, but you keep your eyes forward.

The weight of their attention only presses further on your back as you step into the center of the courtyard. Before you, Master Ubuyashiki waits, his expression so soft yet so unreadable. You bow deeply, the practiced movement hiding the unease pooling in your gut.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Y/N,” Ubuyashiki says.

You straighten slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you nod. “Of course, Master.”

From behind you, one of the Hashira mutters, their voice sharp with impatience. “What is this about? Why are we here for this?”

You don’t turn to look, but the words send a small ripple through the group. The tension shifts slightly, a few murmurs rising and falling like distant waves.

“Please, attention,” Ubuyashiki says, his calm voice cutting through the others. “Y/N has been summoned here today because-”

The sound of shuffling fabric interrupts him. You glance to your side as the late arrival steps forward.

Giyuu.

The world blurs as your gaze locks on him. He moves toward you quietly, his expression heavy with something you can’t quite name. As he steps into place beside you, his shoulder brushes yours.

Your chest tightens, and you want to pull away, to tell him to go fuck off and stop invading your space, but you can’t- not here, in front of Ubuyashiki. Giyuu’s gaze remains downcast, his eyes heavy with sadness, as if he already knows why you’re here.

“Y/N,” Ubuyashiki says, pulling your attention back to him. His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “I regret to inform you that Urokodaki Sakonji has passed away.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, and the strength drains from your legs. You drop to your knees, the sharp sting of gravel barely registering in your brain as your vision blurs with tears.

“No…” The word escapes your lips, barely a whisper, as you clutch your arms tightly around yourself. The grief crashes over you like a wave, the weight of it pressing you further into the ground. 

Giyuu doesn’t move.

Behind you, the silence from the Hashira is palpable. You can feel their gazes on you, though you can’t bring yourself to look up. Among them, one set of eyes lingers longer than the others. 

Sanemi.

He lets out a sharp breath, though he doesn’t say a word. Of course, he remembers you. From the moment Ubuyashiki first said your name, it clicked so easily. But what is he supposed to do about it now? He never knew where you went- let alone who your grandpa was- and the last time he spoke to you was a lifetime ago.

“Giyuu,” Ubuyashiki says gently. “Please take Y/N back to your home. She’ll need time to grieve as I’m sure you may, too.”

Giyuu steps forward, lowering himself slightly to offer you his hand. “Come on,” he says softly.

You slap his hand away, your movements shaky but defiant as you push yourself to your feet.

“Thank you, Master,” you say, your voice strained yet still respectful. “But I don’t need him to take me anywhere.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Giyuu mutters, his tone growing in frustration.

Your fists tighten at your sides and you stand to your feet to face him. However, the second your eyes meet his, the anger that had built up inside you, the anger that rose to your throat, ready to lash out- has completely dissipated.

There’s something in his gaze, something soft but broken, that stops you cold.

“Come on, Y/N,” he repeats, his voice quieter this time. “Let’s go.”

You watch him turn, your eyes catching on the haori draped over his shoulders. It’s only half red now, the other half replaced with a pattern you know all too well.

Sabito.

Your heart lurches, confusion swirling in your chest. What does that mean?

Your feet move before your mind catches up, following after him mindlessly. You’d rather be anywhere else, but the weight of grief and the memory of Urokodaki leave you too drained to argue.

Chapter Text

As you leave the mansion, your legs move like machinery, following Giyuu’s steady pace though your thoughts are far from the path ahead. The weight of Urokodaki’s loss presses down on you like that boulder, leaving little room for anything else.

Behind you, Sanemi’s sharp eyes track your every movement. His posture is stiff, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watches you disappear through the gates.

Once you and Giyuu are gone, he turns to Ubuyashiki, his jaw clenching as he speaks. “What’ll happen to that girl?” he asks.

Beside him, Obanai raises an eyebrow, his mismatched eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you care?” 

Sanemi stiffens, his teeth grinding audibly. Before he can snap back, Tokito mutters absently, “Shinazugawa probably thinks she’s cute or something.”

The comment is delivered in Tokito’s usual detached tone, but it earns him a glare so sharp that even he blinks in surprise.

“Shut it,” Sanemi growls, his fists tightening at his sides. “It was just a question!”

Ubuyashiki’s calm voice cuts through the tension, his tone measured as he speaks. “Giyuu will speak with her and determine when she is ready to continue her training.”

Sanemi narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he looks back toward the gate where you disappeared. Why didn’t Ubuyashiki ask him to see you off? He does know you, after all.

But, from what he remembers, it’s unlike you to slap a stranger’s hand for seemingly no reason.

Shinobu then steps forward, her polite smile tinged with curiosity. “Master,” she says softly, “you’ve been watching Y/N closely, haven’t you? Is there something we should know about her?”

Ubuyashiki lifts his head slightly. “She is not as she appears on the surface,” he says, his words slow and deliberate.

Obanai tilts his head, his snake curling around his neck as he exchanges a glance with Shinobu. “What does that mean?”

“She has… a unique case,” Ubuyashiki continues, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. “If you watch her closely, particularly when she fights, you will see what I mean.”

Shinobu’s polite smile fathers for just a moment as she thinks. “I’ve spent some time around her already,” she says. “But I haven’t noticed anything unusual.”

Ubuyashiki’s faint smile remains. “It’s subtle, my dear, but it is there. Her techniques are quite interesting.”

A quiet murmur ripples through the group, though none press any further. Sanemi’s lips press together, his frustration barely concealed as he casts another glance toward the empty gate.

“Keep an eye out, if you can,” Ubuyashiki finishes, his calm authority leaving no room for argument.

The Hashira exchange clances, some more curious than others. Sanemi says nothing as he turns his back toward the courtyard.

Obanai’s gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before he turns away, muttering under his breath, “Interesting, indeed.”

***

Giyuu’s house is as sparse and unwelcoming as the man himself- bare walls, minimal furniture, and not a single decoration to even remotely suggest someone actually lives here. You step inside, your footsteps echoing faintly against the wooden floor, and glance around.
It feels cold.

When the door slides shut behind you, you spin to face him, your eyes narrowing.

“Seven years,” your voice trembles, but the heat in it is unmistakable.

Giyuu sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The dismissal in his words only add to the fire in your chest, and before you know it, you’re yelling.

“How could you?!” you snap, your voice cracking. “It’s been seven years, Tomioka! Seven years since I saw you! Since Grandpa saw you! Now you don’t even get the chance to…”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the floor.

You step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “Do you have any idea what that did to him? What it did to me?!” 

Your voice only rises, the weight of your grief and anger bubbling over. “He needed you, I needed you, and you just- just left! How could you turn your back on your family like that?!”

Your hands ball into fists, and before you can stop yourself, you weakly punch his chest. It doesn’t hurt him, but the motion makes tears spill from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you come back?” you cry, gripping the front of his uniform tightly. “Why, Giyuu?”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his body stiff under your touch. Then, slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze.

“I couldn’t,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and your grip on his shirt loosens slightly. “What do you mean, you ‘couldn’t’?”

“I couldn’t go back,” he continues, his eyes heavy with regret. “Not after what happened with…” His words trail off, but you don’t need him to finish anyway. Their names linger in the space between you like ghosts.

Your hands lower, though you remain close to him, your breath shaky as you search his face. “All I ever wanted was to know you were okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I knew how you’d… After all these years, it’s all I wanted.”

Giyuu’s hand moves tentatively, his fingers brushing against yours before settling in your palm. His touch is warm and you feel your chest tighten.

“There wasn’t a day I didn’t hate myself for my choice,” he says, his voice low and strained. “But I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t face you or him- not after everything.”

The weight of his words sinks into you, and for a moment, the anger in your chest gives way to something softer. The distance between you feels smaller, and before you know it, you’re leaning closer.

Giyuu doesn’t move away.

It happens briefly, your lips meeting in a fragile kiss that carries the weight of seven years’ worth of unsaid words.

But as quickly as it begins, it ends.

Giyuu pulls back, his expression hard to read as he steps away. “Y/N, I wanted to ask… What are you going to do about your training?” he asks, his tone suddenly distant.

Why the hell does he care about training right now?

The shift feels like a cold wind, but you decide to move past it. Instead, you sigh, walking further into the room and glancing out the window toward the small courtyard outside.

“Well, I can’t stop now,” you say quietly, though all you can think about is that stupid kiss.

He’s really going to ignore it?

“Grandpa would be so pissed if I stopped. So would…” You trail off, still unable to say his name aloud.

The silence stretches for a moment before you glance over your shoulder. “Do you remember Tanjiro?” you then ask instead. “The one you sent to me and Grandpa?”

Giyuu nods, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I do. Why?”

You turn back to the window, your fingers tracing the edge of the sill. “Somehow, he knows Sabito. Like, I think they talked or something.”

When you look back at Giyuu, his expression is flat. “Are you implying that Tanjiro can talk to the dead?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “But… Tanjiro told me that Sabito is watching over us. And I feel compelled to believe him.”

Giyuu’s eyes darken slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He doesn’t respond, but the weight of your words seems to settle heavily on him.

After a moment, he sighs, moving toward the door. “Maybe we should get some fresh air.”

You nod, pushing away from the window. “Yeah. Good idea.”

He slides the door open, stepping aside to let you pass. As you enter the yard, the cool night air brushes against your skin. 

The quiet between you is still thick, but not suffocating. For now, you’ll be able to manage.

After dark, you had gone out for a short walk with Giyuu to get to know the area a bit better, though, he didn’t say anything more than the names of buildings and streets along the way.

But it wasn’t an awkward or tense kind of silence that filled most of your time, more like the heavy quiet of two people weighed down by too many unspoken thoughts. And because of it, you focus solely on the sound of your footsteps to keep you present as your thoughts swirl relentlessly.

When you reach his home, he stops just before the door. You glance at him curiously, your own steps slowing just behind him.

“There’s a beach north of here,” he says suddenly, his voice low and even. “You should go there in the morning. Maybe spend the day.”

You blink, caught off guard. “A beach?”

“It’s a good place to clear your head,” he continues, his gaze fixed somewhere just past you. “If you need some time alone.”

You hesitate, the weight of his words settling in your chest. What does he ever need to clear his head about?

“Tomioka, you know I’ve never been to a beach,” you say softly.

“Well then that’s why you should go,” he replies, his tone firm but not unkind.

You shift your weight as you try to think of how to respond. “Can’t you just show it to me?”

He shakes his head. “It’s best if I didn’t. I have a feeling Master Ubuyashiki is going to try to test you in some way,” he says, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t want to interfere.”

Your stomach twists at the implication, and you straighten slightly. “What kind of test? I already passed the-”

“I don’t know,” he interrupts, his expression now looking irritated after hearing your words. “Just be careful.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unsure where this is coming from. “Why are you just telling me this now?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks at you directly with a gaze piercing in intensity. “Do you want to keep fighting?”

You sigh at the question he’s already asked you at least twice today. “I already told you….”

“Do you?” he presses.

“Yes,” you answer firmly, stepping closer to him. “Of course I do.”

He nods, the faintest bit of approval flickering across his face. “Then be careful,” he says again, his voice softer this time.

“Seriously, you’re so odd sometimes Tomioka,” you grumble. But before you can say more, the sharp caw of your crow echoes in your ear.

“Y/N!” it calls, its voice annoyingly insistent. “Report to Tsumihama Beach immediately!”

You freeze, your gaze snapping to the bird now perched on a nearby post. “Were you listening to our conver-”

“Now!” it repeats, cutting you off while flapping its wings impatiently.

“Fine, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you mutter, your stomach knotting as you grab the hilt of the sword on your waist.

Giyuu turns away, his hand resting on the door as if to turn back into the silence of his own home.

“Giyuu,” you then call out, your voice breaking slightly.

He pauses and turns to look back at you over his shoulder. His face is calm, but his eyes seem filled with something you can’t quite name- regret, maybe, or something deeper.

You want to say something, anything to bridge the widening gap between you, but the words don’t come.

After a moment, he turns fully and walks inside, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft thud.

Your heart sinks, and you feel the ache of his absence even though he’s only a few steps away.

Why did I have to bring up Sabito before? You think bitterly as you grip your sword tighter. God, all I ever do is hurt him by being around.

Your feet start moving, carrying you away from the house and toward the path north. Your mind races, each step feeling heavier than the last.

You’re not friends with Giyuu anymore. He isn’t family. You haven’t seen him in a good seven years. Why would you think things could ever go back to the way they were?

You loved him.

The thought cuts through the noise in your head like a blade. You swallow hard, pushing it down, burying it deep where it won’t surface again.

You walk away, the weight of his gaze and your own feelings pressing heavily on your shoulders. 

But the truth remains whether you like it or not.

Chapter Text

The sound of waves greets you as you step onto the beach, the horizon stretching wide and endless in front of you. The sea shines under the light of the moon, the gentle waves lapping at the shore with a soft hum.

You glance around cautiously, your hand resting lightly on the hilt of your sword. Giyuu’s warning lingers in the back of your mind, but right now, the beach seems quiet, almost peaceful.

You take off your shoes and step into the cool water, letting it rush over your feet. It’s not as cold as you expected- refreshing, but not freezing. Your toes sink slightly into the wet sand, the sensation grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you watch the water pull away, leaving tiny bubbles around your ankles. You wiggle your toes, burying them deeper into the warm sand.

This isn’t so bad, you think, your shoulder relaxing for the first time in days.

But then, a sound.

A low, rumbling click like stones grinding together.

Your head snaps up, and you instinctively step back, your feet shifting into the dry sand. Your eyes scan the beach, searching for the source of the noise.

And then you see it.

At the edge of the trees, just where the sand gives way to thick grass, a figure emerges. Its body is hunched and muscular, its skin slick and gleaming like the surface of a fish. Long, webbed claws shine in the light as it move forward, its mouth splitting into a grotesque grin with needle-sharp teeth.

Your breath catches. The demon.

Not just any demon, either. Its eye holds the Kanji for a lower-ranked Twelve Kizuki.

It tilts its head at you, its black eyes unblinking as it steps closer. “Ah,” it hisses, its voice uncomfortably wet and gurgling, “a snack delivered straight to me.”

You grit your teeth and draw your sword. “Not today,” you mutter, shifting into your stance.

The demon lunges, fast and low, and you barely dodge in time. Your feet dig into the sand as you pivot, swinging your blade toward its side. The edge connects and the demon screeches, but it twists its body unnaturally, using its claws to slash at your shoulder.

The pain is immediately sharp, but you grit your teeth and press forward. Each swing of your sword feels heavier, the demon’s movements unnervingly graceful as it counters your attacks.
“You’re not bad,” the demon sneers, voice curling with amusement. “But not good enough.”

It’s too fast. Every time you think you have an opening, it’s already moved, its claws slicing dangerously close.

One of its strikes lands just above your left breast, a sharp pain radiating through your chest. You stumble back, your hand instinctively pressing against the wound. Blood seeps through your fingers.

The demon doesn’t stop. It lunges again, its claws raking against your right leg now. The force sends you crashing to your knees, your sword slipping slightly in your grip.

Your vision blurs, and you blink rapidly, trying to stay focused. But your body feels sluggish, the pain and blood loss slowing your movements.

“What a waste,” the demon teases, its grin widening as it towers over you.

Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. Blood trickles down your face, staining your vision red. You feel like you can’t move, your limbs growing heavier by the second.

Is this it?

And then-

BOOM.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot cuts through the chaos, followed by the demon’s pained screech.

You blink, your head snapping toward the source of the noise. A familiar figure stands at the edge of the clearing, a shotgun aimed right at the demon.

“Get up!” Genya growls, his voice sharp and directed at you.

The demon lunges at him this time, but Genya fires again, the blast ripping through its side and sending it tumbling back. Genya strides right up to you and pulls you to your feet with one hand.

The sudden motion makes your head spin, and you clutch his arm to steady yourself.

“Genya…?” you whisper, your voice faint.

His hand grips yours tightly, and your eyes drop to his fingers. His nails are painted black.

The sight makes something soft and familiar grow in your chest. “Are you okay?” you ask weakly, tilting your head as you look up at him. He always asked you to do his nails when his parents were fighting or when something was bothering him.

His eyes narrow, and he pulls his hand away sharply. “Get your head out of your ass and wake up!” he snaps. “This isn’t the time for that.”

You blink at him, his words cutting through the clouds in your mind. You nod slowly, gripping your sword tighter. “Yeah,” you mumble.

The demon shrieks as it stands back up, already fully regenerated. Genya raises his shotgun, firing shot after shot, each one hitting is mark.

“I’ll finish this,” he says, his voice steady.

“No,” you say, stepping forward despite the burning pain throughout your body. “It’s strong. We’ll finish it together.”

The demon lunges again, but this time, you’re ready. Genya fires, his shot slowing it just enough for you to dart forward. Your blade glints in the light as you swing with the perfect arc.

The demon’s head flies from its body, rolling into the sand as its form begins to disintegrate.

“Thought you said it was strong,” Genya scoffs.

You exhale shakily, your knees buckling as the adrenaline fades.

“Y/N?” Genya turns to you, looking concerned just as you collapse forward, the cool grains of sand meeting your face.

Genya’s voice is faint, his hand gripping your arm as he rushes to your side and kneels next to you. “Y/N! Hey, stay awake!”

But his voice feels far away, the sound of the waves pulling you to unconsciousness.

The sun beats down on you mercilessly, bright light piercing through your closed eyelids. Your body feels heavy, every muscle aching like it’s being held down by lead. You try to move, just a slight shift, but a rough hand pushes against your shoulder, forcing you back down.

“Don’t even think about it,” Genya’s voice cuts through the haze sharply.

Your eyes flutter open, the world blurring into focus. He’s above you, his face tight with annoyance and streaked with sand and sweat. His hands are moving over your chest, dabbing at the wound there with a piece of cloth that’s soaked with blood.

“What…” you mumble, trying to sit up.

His hand pushes you back firmly, and this time, he doesn’t hold back. “I said don’t move,” he snaps, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

You tighten your jaw, your head pounding as you settle back against the sand. “You’re awfully bossy for someone I didn’t ask to save me.”

He glares down at you, his eyes focused as he adjusts the cloth over your chest wound. “And you’re awfully impossible for someone who’d be dead without me.”

The sting of the salt water rag against your skin makes you hiss, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a complaint. “God, you got stubborn,” you mutter.

“Yeah, well,” he grumbles, not looking at you as he dabs around the edges of your gash, his hands careful to avoid any unnecessary contact, “look who’s talking.”

Ignoring him, you push yourself up despite the ache radiating through your body. The movement sends a sharp pain up your side, and you wince, your breath catching.

Genya clicks his tongue in frustration. “I told you not to move, dammit!”

“And I told you you’re stubborn, so too fucking bad!” you shoot back, leaning against your elbows.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue further. Instead, he picks up a damp cloth and tosses it onto your head, the fabric cool against your overheated skin.

“At least keep this on,” he mutters. “Not that you’ll listen.”

You reach up instinctively, fingers brushing against the makeshift compress. The material feels rough, familiar, and your heart sinks as you realize what it is. “Is this… my uniform?”

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly. “Had to tear part of it off to get to your leg.”

Your gaze drops to your right leg, the fabric around it shredded and bloodstained. The wound is hastily bandaged, his makeshift wrappings tight enough to slow your bleeding but not enough to help dull the pain.

You groan, leaning back slightly. “Shit, didn’t anyone ever teach you how to bandage properly?”

“Would you rather have me walk away without helping you instead?” he retorts.

You glare at him, but the frustration fades quickly. He’s right, and you both know it. “Sorry,” you mumble, pressing the cloth back against your forehead. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, his voice softer now, though his hands remain busy cleaning the mess of injuries you had accumulated.

“Hey, by the way,” you sit up a little straighter, the ache in your body still sharp. “How did you find me?”

Genya pauses for a moment, his jaw working as if deciding whether of not to answer. “Overheard Sanemi talking to Obanai,” he says finally, slightly frustrated. “Something about you and some test. Thought if I came, maybe I’d… get his attention too.”

You blink at him, your brows furrowing. “Get his attention?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from you.

“Genya, why don’t you just talk to him?” you ask, genuinely confused.

His head snaps back to you, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “You don’t get it.”

He’s right- you don’t. But the raw frustration in his voice stops you from pressing any further.

Instead, you look down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the bloodied cloth in your hands. The silence stretches out between you uncomfortably.

Genya’s voice breaks it before you can figure out what to say. “I’m sorry about your grandpa,” he says, his tone a bit awkward but sincere. “I didn’t know him, but… I’m sorry.”

Your throat tightens, and you nod faintly. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Thanks.”

Your own words feel hollow in your ears, but it’s all you can manage. You don’t want to think about Grandpa right now- not here, not like this.

“I heard Ubuyashiki’s handling the arrangements,” Genya adds, his voice careful. “For the funeral.”

Your head snaps up, your heart pounding. “What? Why is he doing that?”

He hesitates, caught off guard by your confusion. “I heard Giyuu Tomioka requested it.”

The name sends a fresh wave of anger through your chest, though it’s dulled by the exhaustion washing over you. “Giyuu…” you mutter, his name bitter on your tongue.

Genya’s eyes narrow slightly. “You knew him, didn’t you? How?”

You glance away, your fingers attempting to curl into fists. “I did,” you admit, your voice quiet. “After I moved away.”

The flicker of hurt in Genya’s expression is quick, but not quick enough for you to miss.

“Look, Gen-” you start, your voice faltering as you try to explain.

But he cuts you off, standing abruptly and brushing the sand from his uniform. “Save it,” he says sharply.

The weight of his words settles heavily in your chest, but you don’t press further. 

He glances down at you, his eyebrows knitting together. “You’re sitting up and talking just fine, so you should be good to walk. Let’s go.”

You press your lips together at you look up at him, watching as he turns his back to you. “Yeah, okay,” you mutter as you shift to sit more properly, though your tone is far from agreeable.

Genya picks up his shotgun and checks to make sure it’s still loaded. “Ubuyashiki will probably want to see you. I’ll take you there.”

You nod faintly, pushing yourself to your feet despite the screaming protest of your muscles. Every step feels like fire, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

“Gen-”

“Seriously, Y/N,” he says, his tone cutting deep as he looks back at you. “Let’s just get out of here before whatever next version of the number Twelve shows up.”

You sigh heavily, your frustration mixing with the pain radiating through your body. “Fine.”

The two of you begin the long trek back, the soft sound of waves fading behind you. Your leg throbs with each step, but at least you’re not climbing a mountain this time.

Even with the ache and the tension between the two of you, it’s hard to not feel the faint flicker of gratitude.

At least I’m not alone.

Chapter Text

You kneel on the tatami mats, your forehead nearly touching the floor in front of Ubuyashiki. Besides you, Genya does the same, though his posture is far stiffer, his frustration practically radiating off of him.

The room is filled with the Hashira, their presence a tangible weight in the air. You can feel their eyes on you, some curious but mostly bordering on judgemental.

Genya clears his throat before speaking, his voice a bit rough but still respectful. “Apologies for interrupting, Master,” he says, his head still bowed.

Ubuyashiki raises a hand gently, his calm smile easing a bit of the tension in the room. “There’s no need to apologize,” he says kindly. “In fact, your timing is perfect. I’d been expecting you both.”

Genya’s head lifts slightly, his confusion evident in the slight shift of his shoulders. You, however, keep your head down, your fingers clutching the fabric of your partially torn uniform tightly.

“Sanemi,” Ubuyashiki says, his voice calm as he addresses the Wind Hashira.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes flicker upward from the corner of your vision.

Sanemi stands to the left of the room, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as he looks at the Master. His white hair shines from the light streaming through the open door, and his expression is unreadable- until he scoffs loudly and knits his eyebrows together.

“I have a request for you,” Ubuyashiki continues, his voice unshaken by Sanemi’s reaction. “Would you consider taking your brother as your tsugoku?”

Sanemi’s scoff deepens into an evil laugh, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. You glance at him fully now, unable to hide your shock.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, Master,” Sanemi says sharply, his tone colder than the winter wind. His arms tighten over his chest, his knuckles white. “I have no brother.”

Your head snaps back toward the floor, your eyes wide as the words sink in. “What-” you start to say, but Ubuyashiki interrupts.

“I believe it is time,” Ubuyashiki says, his voice carrying a bit of firmness beneath his usual gentleness. “He must learn his breathing…”

Sanemi shakes his head, his glare unchanging. “I am the strongest in my family,” he spits. “That is why I’m a Hashira. There is nobody else worth training to carry that title.”

The air in the room shifts the moment Genya rises quickly to his feet. His fists are clenched tightly, his entire body trembling with anger.

“Sanemi!” he shouts, his voice breaking slightly.

Sanemi’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step forward, his jaw tight.

The tension is suffocating, and you glance between them, your heart pounding. Genya looks ready to snap, his hands trembling with barely contained rage. What the hell happened to these two?

Ubuyashiki clears his throat softly, the sound breaking through their hostility like a wave. “Enough,” he says calmly. “This is not the place for such conflict.”

Sanemi huffs but doesn’t move, his eyes still glaring into Genya’s.

“Genya,” Ubuyashiki continues, his tone gentle but firm. “You are dismissed for now.”

Genya’s fists tighten even further, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns sharply and storms toward the door, his footsteps heavy against the floor.

You start to rise, your instinct to follow him kicking in, but Ubuyashiki’s voice once again stops you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone still somehow warm. “Please stay.”

You freeze mid-motion, your hands resting back in your lap as you sit down. Your gaze lingers on the door Genya disappeared through, but you don’t disobey.

The silence is thick, and when you glance over, your eyes catch on Sanemi. He’s still standing near the wall with his glare fixed forward. His gaze flickers to you for a brief moment, but it’s gone just as quickly.

When your attention shifts, it lands on Giyuu. He stands further down the Hashira line, his eyes darker than usual. When your eyes meet, something heavy passes through, unspoken but deeply felt.

Your chest tightens as you tear your eyes away, focusing back on Ubuyashiki.

“I would like to extend an invitation to the Hashira,” he begins, his voice steady. “One of you will take Y/N as your tsugoku.”

Your heart stops for a moment, the words not registering at first.

He continues, “This cannot be someone who already has a tsugoku currently. Nor can it be Giyuu or Sanemi, due to their prior history with her.”

The room goes silent.

Tengen Uzui’s voice is the first to break through. “Her breathing style- what is it?” he asks, his tone curious yet laced with amusement. “It must be flashy, yeah?”

You feel your cheeks burn, embarrassment creeping up your neck. Your fingers twist the fabric of your uniform, your gaze dropping to the floor. How can you say in front of Giyuu?

“It’s water breathing,” Giyuu says suddenly, his voice quiet but certain. “She’s practiced since she was young, I’ve seen her.”

The statement feels like a blow.

How can you admit the truth after that? After all these years?

But Ubuyashiki doesn’t let that slide.

“No,” he says softly. “Her style is wind breathing.”

The room goes still, the silence so loud it’s deafening. 

“So,” Uzui eventually breaks the silence after letting you suffer through it for what feels like ages. “That’s an interesting turn of events.”

You keep your head down, your face burning as the silence turns to murmurs from the other Hashira.

“Wind breathing, huh?” Uzui continues, leaning forward slightly with a sly grin. “That does make things a lot more interesting.”

He tilts his head toward Giyuu, his headpiece catching in the light as his grin widens. “And here I thought you said she’s been practicing water breathing all her life, Giyuu.”

Giyuu stiffens slightly, his pace impassive, though the tightening of his jaw doesn’t escape your glance.

“What happened there?” Uzui asks, feigning curiosity as he rests his chin on his hand. “Got your wires crossed, or just didn’t realize?”

You stare down at the floor harder, wishing it to open up and swallow you whole.

“I…” Giyuu starts, his voice quieter than usual, but Uzui doesn’t let him finish.

“And you-” Uzui turns his gaze to you, his sharp eyes shimmering with mischief. “Not flashy, but cute enough.” His eyes sweep over your tattered uniform, the ripped fabric on your leg and shoulder drawing his attention.

“Although…” he muses, tapping his chin. “The I-just-survived-a-battle look? Definitely makes a statement. Maybe not flashy , but it suits you.”

“Enough,” Ubuyashiki interjects gently, cutting through Uzui’s remarks.

Uzui chuckles, leaning back with a satisfied grin as he waves a hand. “Alright, alright. Just saying- she’s got potential. Does anyone else agree?”

You risk a glance upward, your eyes darting briefly to Giyuu. His face is as stoic as ever, but it seems darker now, the tension in his posture is unmistakable. He’s got to be pissed.

Ubuyashiki’s voice draws your attention back. “Y/N’s breathing style creates certain challenges. She needs a Hashira who can guide her, especially given the unique circumstances of her training, as you now understand.”

You swallow hard as a buzzing in your ears takes over your hearing. That is, until…

“I will take her,” Obanai says suddenly, stepping forward. His voice is as sharp as his gaze, and his words are spoken with a finality that leaves no room for argument.

Your breath catches as your gaze flicks up to meet his.

“I know enough about wind breathing,” he continues, his snake coiling lazily around his neck, its flickering tongue in your direction. “Sanemi and I have trained together long enough for me to guide her.”

Beside him, Sanemi scoffs, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. He nudges Obanai roughly in the shoulder, earning a faint glare from the smaller man.

“What’s your problem?” Obanai mutters, his voice low but audible enough for the rest of the room to hear.

Sanemi doesn’t respond, his jaw clenching as his eyes glare at you briefly before shifting back to Ubuyashiki.

“Very well,” Ubuyashiki says, his smile unchanged. “Obanai, you will take Y/N as your tsugoku. Guide her well.”

“Yes, Master,” Obanai replies, bowing his head slightly.

The words settle heavily on your chest as Ubuyashiki turns his gaze to you. “Y/N, you will follow Master Iguro’s guidance from this point forward.”

You bow deeply before standing, your voice steady despite the storm swirling in your mind. “Thank you, Master. I will do my best.”

Obanai then steps closer, his snake slithering from his shoulder to yours. The cool sensation of its scales sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze, your breath catching as the snake’s head hovers near your cheek.

Sanemi chuckles darkly, the sound mocking.

Obanai leans forward slightly, his eyes bearing into yours as he speaks. “You made your bed,” he says, his voice edged with something sharp, “now you have to lie in it. Let’s go.”

You nod and follow without a word. But before you go, your eyes flicker briefly to Sanemi, his expression still hard as he watches you leave.

But it’s Giyuu’s gaze that lingers the longest. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world feels impossibly still. The unspoken tension still between the two of you tightens, and then, just as quickly, it’s gone as you look away.

The sunlight outside is harsh as you step through the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Obanai doesn’t wait, his pace steady as he leads you away from the mansion.

The snake on your shoulder shifts slightly, and you can feel its cold, smooth scales brushing against your neck.

You made your bed. Now lie in it.

You follow Obanai in silence until the two of you approach his estate. The walk feels longer than it should, the tension stretching thin but never snapping. His snake shifts on his shoulder occasionally, its movements drawing your eyes and making your skin crawl.

The estate eventually comes into view- simple with dark wood panels and a few small lanterns glowing faintly near the entrance. Just as you’re about to step inside, Obanai stops abruptly.

You nearly crash into him, stumbling slightly as your sandals skid against the path.

“Watch it,” he says coldly, turning to face you. His sharp eyes glow in the light as he crosses his arms. “Now listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once.”

You nod, swallowing hard as you straighten yourself.

“You will do as I say, when I say it, and without question,” he begins, his tone leaving no room for argument. “From this moment forward, you will address me as Master Iguro.”

You part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture.

“No interrupting,” he snaps. “You are here to work, not to interrupt me.”

You clamp your mouth shut, your teeth pressing into the side of your cheek.

“You will train when I tell you to train and not attempt techniques you don’t fully understand,” he continues, his voice even but still coated in an edge that makes your blood run cold. “My training is different from whatever Giyuu or Sanemi are interested in.”

Your brow furrows slightly at the mention of their names, but you don’t dare say a word.

“I am also completely uninterested in whatever… sexual tension you seem to have with the Water or Wind Hashira,” he adds bluntly, his snake flicking its tongue as if echoing his disdain.

Your eyes widen, wishing to protest, but he holds up his hand again. “No interjecting,” he repeats firmly.

You clench your fists but keep quiet.

“You are here to train, to work hard,” he continues, his gaze never leaving yours. “Not to mess around with others. You will not leave this estate unless I specifically permit it or your Kusugai crow summons you.”

He steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “You will have breaks to eat, sleep, and- on rare occasions- if I am called to an important meeting. Otherwise, you will be training or assisting me.”

You nod slightly, but he isn’t done.

“And,” he says, his tone darkening, “you will accompany me on all missions without exception. If you refuse, I’ll drag you right back to Ubuyashiki myself and let Shinazugawa and Uzui tear you apart for being incompetent and, as he’d say, ‘not flashy’.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over you like a dark cloud. “Yes, Master Iguro,” you say quietly. “I understand.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding quickly. “Good,” he says. “Now, let me show you to your room.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns sharply on his heel and starts toward the house. You follow silently, the sting of his words still lingering in the air.

Hard to believe the Sanemi you used to know would be friends with this guy.