Chapter Text
Giyuu and Sanemi | Age 21
The grand hall of the Ubuyashiki estate was unusually still, its usual serenity eclipsed by a weighty atmosphere. The Hashira were gathered for one of their most critical meetings to date. The upcoming battle against Muzan Kibutsuji; this was the final battle, the culmination of everything they had fought for.
Victory would mean liberation, not only for themselves but for generations to come. Failure… None of them dared to dwell on that thought.
Seated in their designated spots, the Hashira were silent, all were waiting.
Oyakata-sama had not yet entered, and the absence of two members—Muichiro and Tomioka—hung heavily in the air.
Muichiro being late wasn’t surprising; his aloof nature often led him to lose track of time. But Tomioka? The Water Hashira was known for his punctuality, often second to arrive after Gyomei.Giyuu’s tardiness gnawed at Mitsuri, her concern growing with each passing moment.
Why isn’t he here? she thought curiously, her fingers tightening slightly on her lap. What could have happened!? She tried to reassure herself. Giyuu was still a hashira even with a blunt attitude. If anyone could handle themselves, it was him. And yet, the seed of worry refused to be quelled.
Just as she was about to spiral, the sound of sliding doors interrupted the silence. The group turned as one to see Muichiro entering, his usual detached expression firmly in place as if unaware of the tension in the room. He gave a faint nod to the others before taking his seat without a word.
Not long after, the room stirred again as Kagaya Ubuyashiki entered, his presence as calm and composed as ever. The Hashira bowed deeply, their collective respect for their leader evident. His gentle smile and soothing aura filled the room, though it wasn’t enough to dispel the unease completely.
Kagaya moved to his place at the head of the room, his soft voice cutting through the silence. “Thank you all for gathering here today. This meeting is of great importance as we discuss the final steps toward our confrontation with Muzan.”
He paused, glancing briefly toward Giyuu’s still-vacant seat. Mitsuri’s eyes followed his gaze, her chest tightening. She knows nothing probably happened but it was still weird!
Before the Oyakata-sama could continue, the sound of hurried footsteps and sliding wood turned every head toward the entrance once more. The shoji door opened slowly, revealing a figure cloaked in familiar dark hues.
But what stood before them was not what anyone had expected.
Giyuu Tomioka entered the room, his face calm and composed as always, but his appearance was a contrast to his demeanor. The Water Hashira’s usually slim frame now carried a noticeable roundness—his midsection unmistakably swollen in a way that left no doubt.
He was pregnant .
Tomioka Giyuu was pregnant!
Gasps rippled through the room, Mitsuri’s gasp was the loudest as she quickly muffled it with both of her hands, sharp intakes of breath breaking the silence. Even the most stoic among them faltered. Shinazugawa’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in disbelief. Even Gyomei paused in his quiet prayer, tilting his head as if to assess the situation anew.
Mitsuri’s heart pounding as a mix of surprise, excitement, and confusion flooded her. She didn’t even know Tomioka was mated! Wait…was he mated? If he is, with who? How did he get pregnant? –wait, that sounded wrong—Was it an accident? Does he have an alpha? The questions raced through her mind faster than she could process them.
Despite the scandalized reactions, Giyuu remained utterly unfazed. His steady, deliberate steps carried him to his usual place behind Gyomei and to the right of Sanemi. He paused briefly to bow deeply to Ubuyashiki.
“Forgive my tardiness, Oyakata-sama,” he said, his tone as even and composed as ever, as if he hadn’t just upended the room with his appearance.
Ubuyashiki’s serene smile didn’t waver. “There is nothing to forgive, Tomioka. I understand. Please, take your seat. We have much to discuss.”
With that simple acknowledgment, the meeting resumed as though nothing had happened. Yet the tension in the room was palpable, the Hashira struggling to focus on the discussion at hand.
Mitsuri, for her part, was utterly distracted. She tried to keep her composure, but her thoughts were an untamable hurricane. Giyuu is pregnant. Oh my gosh. Was he in love with someone? Was someone in love with him? It would only make sense that he’s pregnant! Mitsuri is jealous that Tomioka was starting a family with someone he loves. She sighed dreamily internally, half paying attention, half not. Her gaze darted to him, watching as he sat quietly, his expression unreadable.
Her curiosity burned, but she didn’t dare ask, not now. Instead, she stole glances at her fellow Hashira. Sanemi looked as if he were biting back a growl, though Mitsuri didn’t know why rather than his usual distaste for the omega, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed it might crack.
Obanai’s sharp eyes flickered between Tomioka and Oyakata-sama, his usual mistrustful demeanor seemingly amplified. Gyomei, calm and collected as always, showed no outward reaction, though Mitsuri wondered what thoughts lay behind his serene expression.
As Kagaya outlined their plans for the battle, Mitsuri found herself unable to focus. Her mind kept returning to Giyuu, to the questions she desperately wanted answers to. For now, though, she sat quietly, her curiosity and excitement bubbling beneath the surface as the meeting wore on. One thing was certain: Giyuu’s pregnancy wasn’t just a surprise—it was a puzzle and Mitsuri wanted to solve it. Not just because she was a huge gossip.
The meeting continued as Ubuyashiki elaborated on the plan to confront Muzan, his voice calm and measured despite the weight of the topic. Every word carried significance, outlining the strategy that could potentially save the world or doom it. The Hashira listened intently, or at least most of them did. Mitsuri struggled to focus, her gaze drifting toward Giyuu, who sat silently, his expression impassive despite the curiosity and tension swirling around him.
After Amane explained crucial details and circumstances, a brief silence fell over the room, the weight of the plan settling on everyone’s shoulders. It was then that Giyuu stirred.
“Now that Amane-dono is done,” Giyuu said, his tone quiet but firm, “I’ll take my leave.”
The Hashira turned to him in unison, surprise rippling through the room. Giyuu rose slowly, his hands pressing against his thighs for support as he carefully stood. His rounded belly made the movement awkward, but he managed with grace, his expression betraying no discomfort. Before he could take another step, Ubuyashiki’s children moved quickly to his side, their small hands helping to steady him.
“You six can talk about it,” Giyuu continued, addressing the room. “It’s got nothing to do with me.”
The statement landed like a thunderclap. For a moment, there was stunned silence as his words sank in.
Iguro was the first to speak, his voice sharp and cutting. “What do you mean, ‘nothing to do with you’? You’re a pillar too, you understand your position, don’t you?” His golden eyes narrowed, a mixture of irritation and suspicion flashing in them.
Shinazugawa, ever the hothead, growled and slammed his hands on the floor as he rose to his feet. “Hold it, dammit!” he barked, his gruff voice echoing through the hall.
Even Kocho, typically composed, leaned forward slightly, her sharp gaze fixed on Giyuu. “Tomioka-san, please explain. Why? Why are you leaving out details?” Her voice was calm but edged with curiosity and concern.
Giyuu paused at the doorway. He didn’t turn to face them, his posture stiff. “I’m not like you guys,” he said simply, his voice soft but resolute.
Sanemi bristled instantly, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he snarled, already stepping forward. His fists clenched at his sides, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. “You think you’re better than us? You making fun of us, Tomioka?”
Giyuu didn’t respond, but his lack of reaction only seemed to ignite Sanemi further. The Wind Hashira looked ready to charge, his movements abrupt and filled with barely restrained fury.
Mitsuri was in between the both of them in an instant before Sinazugawa could injure an omega, much less a pregnant omega. Trust Shinazugawa to fight with a pregnant person though. She was frantically waving her arms around in an attempt to break them up “Shinazugawa-san! Calm down! You wouldn’t harm a pregnant omega right?!” Her long pink and green hair swirled as she spun around to face Sanemi, her tone pleading.
Sanemi faltered for a moment, his steps halting as if her words struck a nerve, though his glare didn’t soften.
The room froze as a sudden, loud sound reverberated through the hall. It was the heavy thud of Gyomei’s hand clapping together in prayer, the deep, resonant noise cutting through the tension like a blade.
“Enough,” Gyomei Himejima’s booming voice commanded, his tone calm yet authoritative. The Stone Hashira’s presence seemed to still the air itself, and all eyes turned to him. He rose slowly, his massive frame towering over everyone in the room.
He tilted his head slightly, his sightless eyes unseeing but his perception sharper than anyone’s. “…I have a proposition,” he said, his voice deep and measured, carrying the weight of wisdom and finality.
The room fell silent, the Hashira waiting with bated breath for what their wisest and strongest member would say. Even Sanemi seemed to hesitate, his aggression temporarily subdued. Mitsuri stepped back slowly, her gaze flickering between Gyomei and Giyuu, who still stood at the door, his hand resting lightly on the frame.
All eyes were now on Gyomei, his words hanging in the air as the next moment unfolded.
As the meeting adjourned, the Hashira dispersed quickly, each retreating to their respective estates to prepare for the rigorous training ahead. The air remained thick with unspoken questions and unresolved tensions, but none dared to linger. As they all filtered out of the room–
“Giyuu,” Kagaya called softly, his serene voice breaking the silence. “Please stay behind. I would like to have a word with you.”
Mitsuri snapped her head back, eager to know more about the implications of that statement. She makes eye contact with Kocho, the girls seemingly having a silent conversation with only one topic in mind. In her peripheral vision she sees Shinazugawa glance back and faintly scoff along with hurried heavy footsteps but she was too busy focusing on Giyuu to actually notice what it meant.
Giyuu paused mid-step, turning slightly before bowing his head. “Yes, Oyakata-sama.”
He waited patiently as the remaining Hashira filed out, their whispers fading into the distance until the estate was quiet once more. Ubuyashiki’s children remained at their father’s side, their presence a comforting constant as they awaited further instruction.
When the last echo of footsteps faded, Ubuyashiki gestured for Giyuu to approach. “Come closer, Tomioka.”
With measured steps, Giyuu moved forward, his hand instinctively resting on the curve of his belly. He stopped a respectful distance from Ubuyashiki, bowing low before straightening.
“How is the baby?” Ubuyashiki asked gently, his tone filled with genuine concern.
“They are well, Oyakata-sama,” Giyuu replied, his voice steady but soft, carrying a quiet reverence.
“And you?” Ubuyashiki continued, tilting his head slightly. “Have you been staying healthy?”
Giyuu nodded, his hand briefly tightening over his stomach. “Yes, I have been.”
Ubuyashiki gave a small, satisfied nod. “That is good to hear. I understand that your condition will deprive you of demonstrating your abilities in your best state. However, I still encourage you to participate in training the demon slayers. Your guidance and expertise are valuable.”
Giyuu lowered his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I respect you deeply, Oyakata-sama,” he said after a moment, “but I will not participate.”
Kagaya’s expression didn’t falter. Instead, a genuine smile graced his lips, a smile that carried understanding rather than reproach. “You will still spar with the other Hashira, yes?”
“Of course, Oyakata-sama,” Giyuu assured him. “That will be no problem at all.”
“Good,” Kagaya said, nodding. “Regarding your role in the battle, I understand that you still want to fight despite your condition, correct?”
“Yes,” Giyuu answered firmly, his voice carrying a rare conviction. “I refuse to back down from this war. Nothing will stop me.”
The room was quiet for a moment as Kagaya considered his words. Finally, he spoke, his tone soft yet resolute. “Well then, there is nothing I can do to stop you. I believe that all will be well for you and your pup. I have nothing to worry about. I trust you, Giyuu.”
The weight of those words settled heavily on Giyuu’s shoulders. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Ubuyashiki’s unwavering faith in him filled him with gratitude and a deep sense of responsibility. He was more than sure he'd say no but then again, the Oyakata-sama always had reliable insights. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Giyuu allowed a small smile to cross his lips.
“Thank you, Oyakata-sama,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sincerity.
“Before you leave,” Kagaya continued, his tone shifting slightly, “Your mate did not know about your current condition, did he?”
The mention of his mate made Giyuu wince visibly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face and a spike of unpleasant pheromones seeped to the air. He let out a quiet sigh before replying, “No, he does not.”
Ubuyashiki nodded knowingly, his voice gentle but probing. “He must have been surprised to see you then.”
Truthfully, Giyuu had avoided even glancing at his…mate throughout the meeting, even though he wanted to look at him. He wanted to see his reaction but at the same time he didn't. Giyuu could feel the weight of his mate’s gaze and it had felt like the calm before the storm, and Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to meet it. His emotions were a tangled knot of guilt and uncertainty though he suppressed his scent lest the room smelled rancid.
“I guess so,” he finally replied, his tone subdued.
Ubuyashiki smiled faintly, as though understanding far more than he let on. “Children,” he said, addressing the daughters at his side, “please help Giyuu get up and carefully escort him out. See that he will be comfortable.”
“Yes, Father,” the girls said in unison, their voices bright and eager. They moved swiftly to Giyuu’s side, their small hands gently but firmly supporting him as he rose to his feet.
Giyuu bowed deeply to Ubuyashiki and his wife, Amane, his gratitude evident despite his usual stoic demeanor. “Thank you, Oyakata-sama. Amane-dono.”
Ubuyashiki inclined his head, his serene smile never faltering. “Take care, Giyuu. And remember, you are not alone. You’ll work it out.”
With the children’s assistance, Giyuu made his way to the estate’s gate. Their presence was light and serene, settling his nerves a little after the tense meeting. He briefly wonders how his own pup will be like, would they also get his attitude? Or will it be from their other parent? He hopes not. He was a happy kid though, at least, that was what Tsutsako told him. He's going to make sure that they’ll have a cheery life, far away from his fears. What will their future look like with Giyuu’s current…non-existent? Blurry? Relationship with their other father.
Once they reached the gate, Giyuu stopped and bowed slightly to the girls.
“Thank you,” he said, his tone soft but genuine.
The girls beamed up at him, “Take care, Tomioka-san.”, before watching him leave. Giyuu walked away slowly, his hand resting on his stomach, his mind swirling with thoughts about the upcoming battle, his reluctant role in it, and the complicated emotions tied to his mate. For now, though, he allowed himself a moment of quiet, his steps deliberate as he returned to his own estate.
Once the Hashiras filed out of the room, leaving Giyuu alone with Oyakata-sama, Mitsuri couldn’t contain herself. She immediately pressed her ear against the wall, her pink and green hair falling forward as she tried to catch even the faintest hint of conversation. Normally, she would never stoop to something as inappropriate as eavesdropping on their leader, but this was a special case. Tomioka was pregnant! She couldn’t just ignore it. The love hashira’s curiosity burned too hot to resist. Surely they’d discuss something important, maybe even the identity of Giyuu’s alpha.
She could faintly hear them exchanging greetings—Oyakata-sama’s calm voice followed by Giyuu’s quiet and measured replies. It wasn’t enough. Mitsuri clenched her fists in frustration. Just get to the juicy part already! she thought. Her heart raced as she imagined the possibilities. Who could it be? Another slayer? Someone outside the Corps? She had to know!
Behind her, Kocho was watching with raised eyebrows. “Kanroji-san?” she called softly, only to be ignored. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, and then they widened as she realized what the love hashira was doing. Kocho’s mouth formed a small “o” in surprise. Mitsuri, eavesdropping? That was… a little unpredictable, but also very tempting. Why is she even surprised? This is exactly what she was planning to do too.
Before she could stop herself, Kocho joined her, leaning in delicately to press her ear against the wall next to Mitsuri’s. A small part of her reminded her that this was unprofessional and beneath her— but it wasn’t enough to deter her.
After all, this was Tomioka they were talking about—stoic, seemingly untouchable Tomioka, who had shown up pregnant . Pregnant, for goodness sake. Like it wasn’t an inch bit scandalous! She figured she could have sugar talked Amane-dono to slip up what was happening to Giyuu but that was probably going to be like talking to a rock. Maybe she’ll have to unfortunately ask Uzui if he’s heard some stuff about them. Maybe.
Admittedly, Shinobu is surprised that Tomioka is pregnant at all. Of course, Tomioka was always undeniably beautiful, though he hardly carried himself like someone who knew it. Tomioka probably didn’t know that he was definitely waaay above the average conventional omega beauty standards of society. Like way up there. Like really , really up there. He could probably rival the beauty of a cherry blossom tree during Spring when all of the blossoms bloom beautifully and drift delicately in the wind. Everyone knew that, though they don’t say it out loud because of the water hashiras dismissive demeanor. Which Shinobu thought to be quite unfortunate, he’d be an even more deadly hashira if he was more aware of just how blinding his beauty is.
She was surprised that he’d be careless enough to do this, had he even considered aborting the child? Surely it will only hinder him, she thought to herself. Kocho never worried about that stuff–because she was a beta–and it's not like they had time to dip their feet into romance. She thought it was the same for the other hashiras.
Except for Uzui, he’s a special case.
She still doesn’t know how to feel about seeing him pregnant though, it seemed almost like it was fake and she was actually hallucinating or something. She wonders briefly who Giyuus lover was, she genuinely has no idea, only sure that it's an alpha.
Mitsuri shifted beside her, her bright eyes darting as she tried to catch more of the conversation. “Can you hear anything yet?” Mitsuri whispered, her voice hushed but vibrating with excitement.
“Not clearly,” Shinobu whispered back, her tone clipped.
Mitsuri nodded, her face a mask of determination as she pressed her ear even harder against the wall. “I just know they’re talking about something important. What if they’re discussing who the alpha is? What if it’s someone we know?”
Kocho gave her a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re curious because…?”
Mitsuri blushed slightly but didn’t pull away from the wall. “Because it’s Tomioka-san, Shinobu! He’s so quiet and serious all the time. I never thought he’d end up in a situation like this. It’s kind of romantic, isn’t it? Like a mystery waiting to be solved.”
Kocho playfully rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t entirely disagree. It was intriguing. Despite her usual sharp tongue, she found herself genuinely baffled by the situation. Giyuu didn’t seem like the type to form romantic attachments—or any attachments, for that matter.
“I doubt it’s anyone we know,” Kocho murmured, half to herself. “Tomioka-san keeps to himself too much. Though I suppose it could be someone outside the Corps. Or…” Her eyes narrowed as a sudden thought struck her. “Could it be someone within the Corps? Another slayer?”
Mitsuri gasped softly, her imagination running wild. “Do you think it’s one of the Hashiras?” she whispered, her voice tinged with scandal.
Kocho didn’t reply, but her mind raced through the possibilities. None of the other Hashiras seemed likely candidates—except, perhaps, for one. But she dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came.
Surely not , she thought. I mean, maybe? —No, probably not. Right? Like–yeah, no way.
“Do you think it’s—”
“No way, it can’t be.”
“But like, that one time—”
“I know but that wasn’t for sure—”
“Are we supposed to wait until he gives birth then—”
“Kanroji-san, that’s way too long of a wait—”
“Are we sure it's not him ?”
“It was one time, I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Maybe not.”
The conversation in the room continued, muffled and indistinct, and the two women strained their ears to catch any hint of a revelation. The curiosity was essentially oozing through the walls, but so did the frustration of not knowing .
Meanwhile, down the hall, Gyomei stood silently with his hands clasped together. He sensed the two women with a blank expression, his head tilted slightly in confusion. “Why are you pressing your ears against the wall?” he finally asked, his deep voice startling both women.
Mitsuri jumped back, her face flaming red. “W-We weren’t doing anything!” she stammered.
Kocho straightened, smoothing her hair as though she hadn’t just been caught eavesdropping. “We were simply… ensuring the integrity of the walls,” she said smoothly, though there was a hint of irritation in her tone.
Gyomei blinked slowly, unconvinced. “The integrity of the walls?”
“Yes,” Shinobu replied, her smile saccharine. “After all, if the walls are compromised, it could affect the soundproofing, and we wouldn’t want to disturb Oyakata-sama’s conversation.”
Gyomei said nothing, but his brow furrowed slightly as he considered her words. “You could simply ask Oyakata-sama what was discussed afterward,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact.
Mitsuri looked as though she wanted to disappear into the floor, and even Shinobu’s composure faltered slightly. “W-We’ll take that under advisement,” Shinobu said quickly before grabbing Mitsuri’s arm and dragging her away from the wall.
As they retreated down the hall, Mitsuri whispered, “Do you think he bought it?”
“No,” Shinobu replied flatly, her tone as sharp as ever. “But at least he didn’t press the matter.”
Despite the interruption, neither woman could shake their curiosity about the conversation they’d tried so hard to overhear. And neither could stop wondering about the identity of Tomioka’s alpha.
Great . Sometime, they’ll know sooner or later.
Gyomei glanced over his shoulder, his usual calm demeanor masking the curiosity swirling within him. He pondered for a moment, debating whether it was appropriate to ask the question in his mind. No doubt, he had sensed something different about Tomioka—the faintest shift in his balance, his stance, and the air around him. It was subtle, but Gyomei’s finely tuned instincts rarely failed him. And there was Mitsuri's statement, it echoed in his head like a mantra. He must know if it's true.
Finally, he turned slightly toward Iguro, who walked silently nearby with Kaburamaru curled lazily around his shoulders. “Iguro,” Gyomei began in his deep, steady voice, “is it true that Tomioka is carrying a child?”
Iguro exhaled sharply, as if weary of the topic already. He stroked Kaburamaru’s head absentmindedly before answering, “Yes.” His response was simple, quiet, and almost reluctant, as though acknowledging it out loud was somehow burdensome.
Gyomei nodded, humming in acknowledgment. He let the answer settle in his mind, his expression remaining as serene as ever. It confirmed his suspicions, but it also raised more questions. Turning toward Sanemi, who was standing stiffly with an unreadable expression, Gyomei decided to probe further. “Shinazugawa,” he said, his tone calm yet probing, “did you know about this?”
Sanemi’s response was immediate and brimming with tension. “No,” he snapped, his teeth gritting audibly. His arms were stiff by his sides even as he walked out the estate, his entire posture screaming irritation—or perhaps something more—Gyomei could catch a hint of…betrayal? Coming off of the alpha.
Gyomei tilted his head slightly, sensing the storm brewing in Shinazugawa. There was an edge to his voice, a barely restrained anger—or was it frustration? Gyomei didn’t press him further, choosing instead to let the wind hashira swim in his emotions.
The stone hashira turned his thoughts inward, now that he was finally sure of Tomioka's condition. The confirmation of Tomioka’s pregnancy was significant, and Gyomei couldn’t help but feel a growing curiosity about the circumstances. Who was the alpha? How had this situation come to be? More importantly, was Tomioka receiving the care and support he needed during such a vulnerable time? More, more importantly—who was the alpha??
Gyomei briefly entertained the idea of asking him directly, but he dismissed it just as quickly. While he cared deeply for his fellow hashira, he recognized that Tomioka’s reserved nature made such a confrontation unlikely to yield answers. No, a more indirect approach would be better—one that wouldn’t risk weirding out the water hashira.
His thoughts turned to Kanroji and Kocho. If anyone would know more about Tomioka’s condition, it would likely be them. Kanroji often had her ear to the ground when it came to personal matters within the Corps. And Kocho, ever observant, might have picked up on details others had missed.
Gyomei also considered Uzui. The guy always had a way of uncovering information, whether intentionally or not, even in retirement. If anyone had caught wind of Giyuu’s pregnancy before now, it would likely be Uzui. However, Gyomei knew he would need to approach the topic carefully; Uzui’s penchant for theatrics could easily turn a simple inquiry into a spectacle.
As Gyomei contemplated his next steps, his attention briefly returned to Shinazugawa. The younger hashira was visibly agitated, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Gyomei couldn’t help but wonder—why did this news seem to affect Shinazugawa so deeply? It wasn’t like him to be this…unsettled.
Coincidentally, Mitsuri, Shinobu, and Gyomei all found themselves standing in front of the former sound hashira’s estate.
The sight of one another sparked mutual surprise, their expressions silently questioning what had brought each of them here. Shinobu was the first to break the silence, tilting her head slightly. “Are you two here—”
She was interrupted by Gyomei, who rumbled, “To ask about Tomioka’s pregnancy, yes.”
At the exact same moment, Mitsuri blurted out, “Tomioka-san’s pregnancy!”
There was a brief pause before they all nodded in unison, their faces set with a determination, as if preparing to face Muzan Kibutsuji himself. Without further delay, they turned and approached the gate.
Uzui’s wives greeted them at the entrance, their curiosity evident in their welcoming smiles. “Oh, what a surprise! What brings all of you here today?” Makio asked, her hands on her hips as she glanced from one guest to another.
Gyomei spoke first, his deep voice calm yet purposeful. “We’re here to speak with Uzui. It’s a matter of importance.”
“It’s very urgent,” Shinobu added, her lips curling into a polite smile.
“Very, VERY urgent!” Mitsuri chimed in, her enthusiasm unintentionally amplifying the gravity of their visit.
Uzui’s wives exchanged puzzled glances, silently trying to decipher what could possibly unite the love hashira, the stone hashira, and the insect hashira under the banner of urgency. However, they ultimately shrugged and gestured toward the main house. “All right, we’ll go get him—”
Their words were cut off by a booming voice from within the estate. “What’s all this commotion about?” Uzui’s unmistakable presence preceded him as he appeared, his dramatic flair as grand as ever. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing the trio, his brow lifting in surprise. “Kocho? Mitsuri? Gyomei!? All at once? To what do I owe the honor? Am I suddenly the most important hashira now?” he teased, grinning.
Kocho stifled a chuckle as they were ushered inside, muttering something about ‘former hashira’. Uzui’s wives quickly set about arranging a table, offering tea and treats with their usual efficiency. The three hashira took their seats, exchanging quiet looks as they waited for the right moment to broach the subject.
Finally, once everyone was settled, Uzui leaned back with a confident smirk. “All right, out with it. What brings you three to my humble estate? And with Gyomei , no less! This must be serious.”
Kocho didn’t waste any time. She clasped her hands together and leaned slightly forward. “Uzui-san, did you know that Tomioka-san is pregnant?”
The words hung in the air for a moment before chaos erupted. Uzui choked violently on the tea he had just sipped, sputtering and coughing as he struggled to recover. Hinatsuru, mid-pour, nearly spilled tea all over Mitsuri’s cup in her shock. Makio and Suma, carrying trays of sweets, almost stumbled into each other in a flurry of gasps and half-formed exclamations.
“WHAT?!” Uzui finally managed to croak out, pounding his chest as if that might help him process the revelation.
He leaned forward, his hands slamming onto the table. “Start from the beginning,” he demanded. “How do you even know this!”
Mitsuri clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement despite the serious atmosphere. “We just had our meeting with Oyakata-sama. He’s definitely pregnant! He was glowing! Round belly and everything!”
“We were hoping you might have some insight,Uzui-san. Surely you’ve heard something through your… extensive network.”
Uzui leaned back, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Despite the chaos, there was a gleam of intrigue in his eye. “I can’t believe this… Tomioka, of all people. He’s always so—”
“Distant? Cold? Mysterious?” Mitsuri supplied helpfully.
“Exactly!” Uzui said, snapping his fingers. “And now you’re telling me he’s pregnant?!”
Gyomei, who had remained silent thus far, finally spoke. His voice was calm but firm, cutting through the noise. “The question is not whether or not Tomioka is pregnant. The question is whether we know more about his condition.”
Uzui sobered slightly at the remark, nodding in agreement. “You’re right…Who's the father?”
The room fell into a momentary silence as the group exchanged speculative looks.
“That’s why I came here–perhaps you know something?”
“Hm, I can’t say I have any information about him.”
“But you hear everything!”
“Well—yes. But it doesn’t work like that. I’m not always an active listener—”
Kocho sighed exasperatedly and shook her head in disappointment.
Suddenly Uzui perked up, his eyes lighting up with sudden realization and almost spilled his tea. “Wait a second,” he said, leaning forward and snapping his fingers. “I do know something!”
Uzui even stands up to emphasize his realization. “Tomioka has a mating bite on his neck! I saw it once—just a tiny glimpse—back when he adjusted his low ponytail, one of those times he actually moved it.”
The room went dead silent for a moment, and then all three hashira sitting at the table erupted.
Mitsuri gasped, her hands slamming down on the table. “What?! Uzui-san, why didn’t you say this first?! That’s so important!”
Kocho, composing herself, crossed her arms and shot him a sharp look. “Exactly. You couldn’t have started with that piece of information? Really, Uzui-san?”
Uzui raised his hands in defense, leaning back slightly under their combined scrutiny. “Hey, I completely forgot, okay?! It was two years ago! And I’m pretty sure I told Kyojuro about it at some point.”
Kocho narrowed her eyes, skepticism practically radiating from her. “Are you absolutely certain it was a mating bite? You have a habit of exaggerating things, Uzui-san.”
He scoffed, visibly offended as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Oh, come on. Give me some credit. I know what a mating bite looks like! And, might I remind you, two years ago I still had both of my eyes. My vision was perfectly fine back then!”
“That is not what I meant—” Shinobu began, only for Uzui to cut her off.
“And out of the four of us, I think I’m the most qualified to recognize a mating bite. I mean, hello, I have three wives. I’ve seen it all.” He leaned back with a smug expression, clearly satisfied with his own logic.
Shinobu shook her head, exhaling sharply through her nose. “You can be so insufferable, Uzui-san.”
Mitsuri, ever the peacemaker, cut in. “Where was the bite mark, Uzui-san? Can you show us?”
Uzui tilted his head, tapping his fingers against his chin as he thought. “It was definitely strategically placed,” he finally said. He gestured to the side of his neck, but dragged his hand further back, almost to his nape. “Here. Almost hidden unless you’re really looking for it. Clever spot, honestly. It’s still within the mating glands obviously but just tucked away a little bit.”
Mitsuri’s eyes widened as she leaned forward, her voice full of curiosity. “Why is it in a hidden spot for a mating bite? Honestly, though, Tomioka-san has never smelled any different to me, even since I’ve known him.”
Gyomei, who had been silently listening, finally spoke, his deep voice carrying a tone of quiet authority. “Having known Tomioka longer than the three of you, I can confirm that his scent has not changed. Additionally, there could have been no way he mated with anyone at age 15. It’s possible but not likely.”
Shinobu nodded, her brows furrowed as she processed the information. “I agree with Gyomei-san. But there’s something odd… He also hasn’t been taking any suppressants, as far as I know. Most of the other slayers get their supply from me, but Tomioka-san has never requested any. I just assumed he had his own preferred source.”
Uzui frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “No suppressants? That’s strange. Wouldn’t his scent have been stronger without them, especially during missions? Doesn’t he use blockers though? Because I’m sure I haven’t smelled his full scent at all.”
“Oh! He smells really nice, it’s addicting honestly—”
“Uh, How do you know what he smells like, Kanroji-san?”
“Well, we…hangout? I guess? Sometimes.”
Gyomei added, “Perhaps he’s naturally adept at masking his scent. Tomioka has always been disciplined and meticulous, even from a young age.”
Mitsuri tapped her fingers against the table, her mind clearly racing. “But wouldn’t his alpha’s scent have mingled with his own, especially after mating? That’s usually how it works, right? It’s what makes a bonded pair’s scent so distinct.”
Shinobu tilted her head, clearly intrigued. “Unless they’ve been apart for a long time. That could explain why his scent hasn’t noticeably changed. Or they’re just extremely careful.”
Uzui suddenly leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he smirked. “You know, all of this just makes me more curious about who his alpha is. Someone powerful enough to claim Tomioka, but discreet enough to keep it a complete secret? That’s not easy to pull off.”
Mitsuri’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “And they must be so caring, too! Giyuu-san deserves someone who loves him deeply.”
Shinobu sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still don’t even know if Uzui’s so-called mating bite is legitimate.”
“Hey!” Uzui snapped, looking genuinely offended. “I know what I saw. Mark my words, that was most definitely a mating bite.”
Gyomei hummed thoughtfully, his expression unreadable as always. “If that’s true, then Tomioka’s situation is even more complicated than it seems.”
Still, despite their best efforts, none of them could shake the lingering question: who was Giyuu’s alpha? And why had he kept it a secret for so long?
As they sat around the table, the air thick with curiosity as they brainstormed ways to gather more information about Giyuu’s pregnancy—and now, apparently, his secret mating life. Uzui’s revelation about the mating bite had opened a floodgate of speculation, and they weren’t about to let it go easily.
Gyomei, ever the thoughtful one, stroked his chin and proposed, “Perhaps we could… observe him more closely. Discreetly, of course. It would allow us to gather more details without directly confronting him.”
Mitsuri’s eyes lit up. “Oh, like spying on him? That’s a great idea, Gyomei-san!”
Uzui nodded approvingly. “Not bad. We’re already trained for stealth, so it’s not like it’d be hard for us.”
Shinobu, however, sighed and shook her head. “As tempting as that sounds, it’s impractical. We’re all swamped with training for the upcoming battle, and keeping up with Tomioka-san on top of everything else would be nearly impossible.”
Gyomei hummed in agreement. “You’re right. Our duties must come first.”
Mitsuri pouted but quickly brightened again, clapping her hands together. “Oh! What if one of Oyakata-sama’s children knows? They’re always around Tomioka-san, and they’re so observant!”
Kocho gave her a patient smile, shaking her head once more. “They’re far too loyal to Oyakata-sama and the pillars’ secrets. Even if they did know something, it would be nearly impossible to persuade them to share it.”
Uzui leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Agreed. Those kids are like vaults. Respectable, but not helpful in this situation.”
Makio, who had been quietly listening from the side, finally chimed in, “Why don’t you guys just ask Tomioka-san yourselves? Sorry for interrupting.”
The Hashira collectively turned toward her, blinking in unison as if the thought had never occurred to them.
Kocho gave her a small, incredulous smile. “Well, it’s not exactly that easy to talk to him about this stuff, Makio-san.”
Uzui chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, thanks for the insight darling, but Tomioka is like a fortress. Getting him to open up is harder than cracking diamond. I mean, when was the last time anyone had a casual conversation with him?”
Mitsuri frowned thoughtfully. “We talk sometimes…but never about anything personal.”
Gyomei nodded solemnly. “Tomioka is private by nature. Pressuring him directly might only push him further away.”
They continued to toss around ideas, ranging from absurd to semi-practical. Uzui suggested something crazy like he always does—obviously those were a no go. Mitsuri proposed asking Aoi for insight since she often worked with Tomioka at the Butterfly Estate, but Kocho reminded them that Aoi valued patient confidentiality too much to gossip and that she would've known too if Aoi knew anything.
Eventually, their enthusiasm fizzled out as the reality of the situation set in.
“Well,” Mitsuri said with a defeated sigh, “it’s not like he can hide it forever, right? He’ll slip up eventually.”
Uzui shrugged, pouring himself another cup of tea. “Yeah, someone’s bound to catch him off guard one of these days. We just have to be patient.”
“Really, really, really patient.” Kocho sighed defeatedly for the nth time in a span of an hour.
The cool afternoon breeze brushed gently against Giyuu’s face, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly turned earth. It had been far too long since he’d taken the time to savor something as simple as nature. The world outside felt alive, vibrant, and untainted—a stark contrast to the inner turmoil that had been weighing on him.
His hand instinctively rested on his belly, a subconscious act of comfort as he replayed Ubuyashiki’s words in his mind. “I trust you, Tomioka.” The sentiment was still sinking in, and the weight of that trust filled him with equal parts gratitude and unease. He was ready to turn down Ubuyashiki's discouragements to participate in the battle. Why would he back out of an event that would renew the world just because he was pregnant? Regardless of what anyone said, Giyuu still would have fought, what was the point of beheading all those demons only to not be there when it ended? He knows he can carry himself just fine. He exhaled deeply, a quiet sigh that escaped into the wind.
He no longer wore his Demon Slayer uniform, finding it restrictive and uncomfortable. Despite efforts to adjust it with the tailor’s help, he couldn’t bring himself to wear it anymore. Instead, he now donned a custom kimono modeled after the uniform, the dark fabric flowing more freely around his form. His signature haori still hung over his shoulders, giving him the appearance of normalcy, even if everything about him felt far from it.
The path to his estate stretched ahead, quiet and peaceful, with the sun casting long shadows through the trees. He estimated it would take about ten more minutes to reach home—a place where he could finally rest his body and his mind.
But as he turned a corner, his moment of serenity was abruptly shattered.
Out of nowhere, he was pinned against the wall, the force almost causing him to stumble. A hand pressed firmly against his shoulder, and he found himself face-to-face with none other than Sanemi Shinazugawa. The very person he was trying to avoid. The Wind Hashira’s intense gaze bore into him, his expression a mix of disbelief and restrained anger.
“Why the hell are you pregnant?” Sanemi demanded, his voice low enough to keep their conversation private but laced with a sharp edge.
Giyuu’s eyes narrowed slightly, his stoic mask slipping into place as he turned his gaze away. “What’s it to you?” he replied, his voice calm yet tinged with defiance.
“The fuck you mean what’s it to me? Don’t act dumb with me, Tomioka,” Sanemi snapped, his grip tightening.
Giyuu sighed internally, already knowing where this was headed. He had, conveniently or not, neglected to tell Sanemi—his mate —about his pregnancy. But in Giyuu’s mind, it didn’t matter. Their relationship was far from romantic, despite the bond that tied them together. It was a practical arrangement, nothing more.
Or so he told himself.
Sanemi, however, wasn’t about to let it go. “Answer me,” he demanded, his voice growing more insistent.
Giyuu remained silent, refusing to meet the alpha’s gaze. Every question Sanemi asked was met with either deflection or quiet resistance.
Sanemi’s patience wore thin. His hold on Giyuu’s arms tightened, frustration bleeding into his actions. “Stop dodging, dammit!” he growled. “Tell me the truth!”
The omega winced, a sharp pain shooting through his arm. He finally spoke, his voice steady but tinged with a warning edge. “Sanemi, let go.”
But Sanemi didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. “Not until you answer me.”
Giyuu tried to pry himself free, his movements purposeful but careful not to strain himself further. The alpha, however, only pressed him harder against the wall, his larger frame looming over Giyuu’s delicate form. Giyuu is way too heartbroken to deal with this. Sanemi demanding answers from him only added salt to his bleeding wound.
It was too much. The physical pain and emotional pressure cracked Giyuu’s usual calm exterior. His voice trembled, thick with the threat of tears. “L-let go, Sanemi,” he said, his words faltering. “I-It hurts.”
The moment the words left Giyuu’s lips, Sanemi froze. His eyes widened in shock as he finally registered the pained expression on the omega’s face. The swirling scent of a distressed omega increased rapidly around them, Sanemi could smell a hint of sadness slipping past him. Giyuu, who was always so composed and unyielding, now looked vulnerable and fragile, something Sanemi wasn’t used to seeing and smelling.
He pulled his hands back abruptly, stepping away as if he’d been burned.
“I’m tired, okay?” Giyuu said, his tone firm despite the lingering quiver in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Straightening himself with a steadying breath, Giyuu turned away, his haori swaying with the motion. His voice was blunt and final as he added, “Either leave me alone, or we can talk in my estate.”
He didn’t wait for a response, setting off down the path toward his home. He could feel Sanemi's hesitation behind him, the alpha’s presence a heavyweight in the silence. Eventually, though, he heard the quiet sound of footsteps following him.
The walk was painfully quiet, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. Neither of them spoke, and Giyuu didn’t dare look back. Whatever conversation awaited them, it would have to wait until they reached the privacy of his estate. For now, he focused on the rhythm of his steps, the breeze brushing against his face, and the distant sound of cicadas filling the air.
The circumstances leading to Giyuu and Sanemi’s mating were a tale both of regret and necessity—a union born not of love or choice, but of survival. Unlike many mating bonds between alphas and omegas, it was a story they’d rather leave unspoken.
Why did it have to be this way? Why did his luck always run away from him when it came to love? He held back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. This is all because of some stupid alpha. A stupid alpha that he might have feelings for…
It didn't matter anyway, he'd never reciprocate the feelings Giyuu has for him. Sanemi made sure to let him know since the day he sunk his canine teeth in the side of his neck.
Giyuu marched away with the broken pieces of his heart making a trail at every step.
He never thought they’d come to this.
Notes:
I tried to make this Canon Compliant-ish, I don’t think the timeline is vague since I did state it already but just a precaution that I am leaning more towards the manga canon rather than the anime. Only because I’m much more familiar with it (and it’s totally not because I got signed out of Netflix for whatever reason, maybe because of my travelling? I don’t know yet.) and of course the a/b/o dynamics are added as well.
So…I only realized that the length of the Hashira training arc did not at all fit the way I structured the first chapter and the reveal. I was hesitant to actually make it align since I had everything set in stone already and changing it felt like it would flow more confusingly. Apparently the training duration was a little over 4-5 months but in my head it was exactly around 1 month(which is so unrealistically fast I know, idk how I thought that) and that is where I based the whole timeline on. It was more to show the length of Giyuu’s pregnancy at that point and I messed it up. I don’t really think it's that relevant to the actual plot but I think it's best to know beforehand that it was an error on my part. Still canon compliant-ish and that is pretty much the only vague jump of events.
happy reading!
Chapter 2: uncertainties
Summary:
“Your neck.” Giyuu immediately obeyed, frantically nodding his head and bearing his neck to the alpha in submission and pure desire to be mated. Sanemi stared at Giyuu’s bared neck, mating gland daunting him, his mouth hanging open in hesitation. Fuck why did it have to be this way?
He can tell Giyuu was just as tense as he is even if his face didn’t show it. Sanemi could feel that Giyuu’s muscles were tight with tension and anticipation. His eyes were closed, creasing slightly to show he was also tightly keeping them shut.
Sanemi let out a long drawn out sigh of defeat and finally broke skin and sank his teeth into the omega’s neck.
Notes:
Just to be clear, this is a FLASHBACK chapter, I will narrate it like it’s in the present though so it will not be in italics. So will be the next couple chapters after this one, it might take a while to go back to the present. It's all about the processes of their life leading up to the current events. By the time the battle against Muzan rolled around they would be mated for 3 years (They got mated at 18) so they would both be 21.
Also, I will be switching POVs between the both of them throughout the Chapters, let me know if it's a little awkward but I'll try my best to make it work.
I will segue hints that suggest a past timeline but I wanted to clarify so no one will get confused!
(Also, so sorry for the plot-holes in the last chapter!! Thank you to the people who informed me about it, I really appreciate it!! I love reading your guys' comments!!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
First Year
Giyuu and Sanemi | Age 18
Why did Giyuu and Sanemi get mated? It was a rather long story.
Sanemi and Giyuu were not in love, they did not get mated because of love just like the other omegas and alphas. They did not even consider it before, too caught up on what it meant to be hashiras in the corps despite being aware of its existence.
They just started their journey in adulthood, freshly eighteen, no longer naive to the world’s misgivings.They were forced to bond one day on a mission.
Oyakata-sama sent them in particular to face this demon because they were unfortunately by far the most compatible to combat the demon out of all the hashiras at the time. Which did not make sense because the Oyakata-sama could’ve easily asked for Uzui to do this particular mission since he handles most of the Entertainment District anyway. Giyuu guesses that Ubuyashiki was just being experimental or something like that, he didn’t think about it too deeply. Apparently Sanemi didn’t either because he didn’t verbalize his contradictions.
However, Giyuu still knew that Sanemi hated to partner up with him. Sanemi couldn’t deny the Oyakata-sama out of pure respect and he was to kill one of the twelve Kizuki which was enough reasons to silence him.
The demon was a complex aphrodisiac demon who did terrible things to their victims by forcing them to be in a state of faux heat through his mysterious ability and taking advantage of them. He wasn’t easy to catch because the demon was quite intelligent, he made it appear like his blood demon art was natural biology even though he actually manipulates it. He also constructs his plan in stages so that he is guaranteed a human body to feed on. Giyuu didn’t know the exact extent of it.
Giyuu was a bit nervous as they approached the Entertainment District because of the stories he’s heard of the demon. People say that he has been around for a long time with carefully chosen victims but the demon has been uncharacteristically active due to Muzan’s growing influence on his Kizuki. Not that he was scared or anything, just that there were a lot of people in the district. And they had to look for this guy, which meant plenty of information gathering.
Sanemi walked beside him, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the bustling streets. He looked irritated, but that was just Sanemi. Giyuu knew better than to mistake that for carelessness. If anything, Sanemi was at his most dangerous when he was agitated.
Unless the demon spares them the hunt and appears to them immediately, their questioning would prove to be a long time. Surely he would be enticed by the presence of two hashira’s, it probably helps that Giyuu was an omega. The demon chooses his victims regardless of secondary gender but it was still mostly inclined on devouring omegas—so. However, Giyuu thinks that Sanemi probably still has a good chance of getting victimized just like him.
Surprisingly, the demon does show up immediately. He and Sanemi were just turning to an alleyway to get to their ryokan after looking for the demon the whole evening but a pair of blinding gold eyes stared back at them.
Giyuu froze, instincts screaming at him before his rational mind could even catch up.
Sanemi tensed beside him, one hand instinctively reaching for his sword.
For a moment, the demon simply stood there, his golden gaze locking onto them with an eerie stillness. His form was obscured by the shadows of the alley, but Giyuu could make out the faint shimmer of silk—expensive, well-kept robes draping over an unnaturally tall frame.
The demon hadn’t caught on their senses.
That wasn’t normal.
Giyuu inhaled sharply, searching for a scent—any scent besides his and Sanemi’s. But there was nothing.
Sanemi’s voice was low, sharp. “Why couldn’t we smell it?”
“That’s probably how he got his victims to fall for his tricks quickly,” he murmured.
“Fucking demons.”
The demon finally stepped forward, a slow, deliberate movement. His lips curled into a smirk, sharp fangs glinting beneath the dim glow of a distant lantern.
“Two Hashira wandering my hunting grounds,” he mused, his voice smooth, almost amused. “And an omega among them? How fortunate of me.”
Giyuu’s grip tightened on his sword.
Sanemi had already drawn his, the air between them crackling with tension.
The demon moved first. He was fast. One moment he was standing a few paces away, the next he was lunging forward, claws swiping for Giyuu’s throat. Giyuu barely had time to react, his blade flashing as he parried, metal singing against the demon’s sharpened nails. The impact sent a sharp vibration up his arm, but he twisted his grip and slashed outward in a fluid motion.
The demon twisted unnaturally, avoiding the strike entirely.
Sanemi was already moving, closing the gap between them in a blur of motion. His sword came down in a brutal arc, aimed straight for the demon’s neck. The demon snarled and leapt back, evading the decapitating blow by a hair’s breadth. But Sanemi didn’t stop, didn’t give him a chance to recover. He pressed forward with relentless aggression, forcing the demon into a defensive stance.
Giyuu took the opening.
Water Breathing: Seventh Form – Drop Ripple Thrust
His blade pierced through the demon’s chest in a blink, driving deep before twisting. The demon let out a strangled hiss, body convulsing.
Sanemi didn’t hesitate.
Wind Breathing: Fifth Form – Cold Mountain Wind
A powerful gust followed the swing of his sword, the force behind it enough to tear through the demon’s neck in one clean stroke.The demon’s head hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling slightly before coming to a stop. His body crumpled in slow motion, and then—silence.
Giyuu braced himself, waiting for some sort of enchantment, some effect that would indicate the demon had more tricks up his sleeve. But nothing came. The body began to disintegrate, fading into ash. Just before it truly disappeared, the only thing the demon said was, “I have done my duty.”
Sanemi scoffed, flicking his blade to rid it of blood. “That was it?”
Giyuu exhaled slowly, lowering his sword. “I suppose so.” The omega thought it was a peculiar last line, what did the demon's words mean?
They stood in the dim alleyway for a moment longer, the sounds of the Entertainment District still echoing distantly around them. Sanemi huffed. “Well, that was a damn waste of time.” Giyuu didn’t argue. Instead, he sheathed his blade and turned back toward their ryokan.
A week had passed since their battle in the Entertainment District, and Giyuu thought nothing of it at first. His body had ached slightly from the fight, but that was normal. The exhaustion that followed, however, wasn’t. It started subtly—drowsiness creeping in during training, muscles feeling heavier than usual. By the fourth day, waves of heat began rolling over him in unpredictable bursts. His body felt feverish, skin too sensitive, his breath coming out in slow, labored pants.
It was wrong.
His heat wasn’t due for another month, and yet, it felt like it was about to crash down on him at any moment. Even though he didn’t even smell like it—if he did, people would have reacted to his scent, but they didn’t. And then, on the seventh day, he woke up drenched in sweat, barely able to sit up without his body trembling.
Something was very wrong.
Giyuu forced himself out of bed and made his way to the main estate to consult Ubuyashiki directly about what he was feeling. He has a feeling it was because of the recent demon they beheaded. every step sending sharp jolts of discomfort up his spine. The world around him felt off, like he was walking through a haze of warmth that clung to his skin. It was unbearable.
When he finally reached Ubuyashiki’s room, he wasn’t surprised to see Amane already seated beside him. What did surprise him, however, was Sanemi sitting cross-legged across from them.
And he looked just as awful.
Sanemi’s face was paler than usual, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His usual sharp glare was missing, replaced by something stormy—his body tense, jaw locked, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. His breathing was just a little too shallow, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly. Giyuu realized with a sinking feeling that Sanemi was going through the same thing.
“Giyuu, please take a seat.” Giyuu quickly muttered a greeting and an apology then took a seat at a safe distance away from Sanemi, just in case.
Ubuyashiki’s voice was calm, but his expression carried an uncharacteristic weight of concern. “I sent for an investigation,” he said softly. “Based on our findings, the blood of this demon does not merely infect or poison its victims—it has severe, lasting after effects. Those who come into contact with it experience excruciating pain, unlike anything we’ve encountered before. The pain doesn’t subside on its own, nor does traditional medicine or suppressants seem to have any effect.”
A ripple of unease spread through the room at his words, but before anyone could speak, Amane stepped forward, her voice composed yet urgent. “This demon manipulates the fundamental nature of an omega’s and alpha’s biology,” she explained. “He forces them into a false cycle—a state that mimics a true heat but is entirely artificial. This isn’t something we’ve seen before. The way he does it is calculated. He doesn’t just wait for an omega to enter heat or an alpha to enter rut naturally—he fabricates it. This manufactured cycle clouds their judgment, weakens their resistance, and heightens their susceptibility to outside influence as both of you know.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line before she continued. “That’s how he lures them in. By tricking their bodies into believing they need a mate, he exploits their instincts, ensuring that they are at their most vulnerable when he approaches them. And once he has them exactly where he wants them, he forces the bond—binding them to him against their will.” Giyuu fears what this might mean for him.
Her voice grew colder. “And when he’s done—when the bond is sealed—he feasts on them. That was how he was able to survive until recently.” She exhaled slowly before pressing on. “We have evidence that a mating bite can counteract this process. A couple recently stepped forward and shared their experience. The omega was one of the demon’s victims—she was intoxicated, dazed, and overwhelmed with the unmistakable symptoms of heat, even though she had just finished her cycle days before.” Amane’s gaze sharpened. “She knew her body. She had never once experienced irregular cycles, so there was no logical reason for her to suddenly enter a heat-like state. And yet, she did.”
Her expression darkened. “But before the demon could reach her, she acted on instinct. In her desperation, she turned to her significant other. And in the heat of the moment—they completed their bond. The second their mating was finalized, the unnatural symptoms disappeared. The false heat was gone. The pain vanished. And she returned to herself almost instantly.”
She let her words settle, the weight of their implications pressing down on those listening. “This isn’t speculation—it’s proof. The demon’s blood manipulates an individual’s physiology, forcing them into a vulnerable state so that he can control them. But a true, willing mating bond overrides this process. It counters the effects of his influence, stabilizing the individual's body and severing the hold he has on them.”
She straightened, her voice unwavering. “This means that for those already affected, there’s no alternative. If they don’t bond with someone they trust, the pain will persist, and they will remain trapped in this manipulated state until it’s too late. We have no time to waste.”
The room fell into silence, the truth of her words undeniable.
Amane’s words lingered in the air like a heavy cloud.
“Ideally, both of you can mate with each other out of confidentiality , but that is highly consequential to the both of you, and it is too much to ask for. I don’t consider it as an option you will be open to, and really, it’s not realistic.” Giyuu agreed. He barely knew Sanemi, and what little he did know didn’t exactly make the idea any more appealing. They had always been at odds—Sanemi’s short temper and brash words clashing against Giyuu’s quiet nature. They were anything but compatible.
But the reality was… he had no one else.
Oyakata-sama, ever patient and understanding, spoke again, his voice calm but firm. “I will not force either of you to make a decision right now. However, I must be honest with you both. If you do not find a solution soon, this will result in your deaths.”
Giyuu felt his stomach churn, he didn't know if it was delight or dread.
“I could order Kocho and our best medical experts to seek out a cure,” Ubuyashiki continued. “But we are dealing with a Blood Demon Art. This is not an ordinary affliction. I do not believe it will be curable by conventional means but it doesn’t mean that we can’t try.”
Silence stretched between them. Ubuyashiki’s voice softened, he looked genuinely empathetic though his face did not have any traces of regret, like he knew it had to be Sanemi and Giyuu. “I apologize for sending you both on that mission without knowing the full extent of the demon’s capabilities. We believe that this was a set-up by Muzan to kill two birds with one stone.”
Giyuu looked down at his lap, hands clenched into fists. It wasn’t his fault, and yet Oyakata-sama still carried the weight of responsibility. “At the end of the day,” he continued, “this decision rests with you both. I understand it is not easy, and I would not ask this of you if there were another way.”
A beat of silence passed before Amane finally spoke. “You have a maximum of one week to decide.”
Neither Giyuu nor Sanemi responded.
They had no words to offer.
Giyuu listened, his heartbeat thudding in his ears as Ubuyashiki explained.
The demon they had fought had after effects. He didn’t have a scent which made it easier for him to lure in his victims. It was a deliberate illusion, Giyuu and Sanemi were his final victims.
A week. He had one week.
It took less than three days for things to spiral completely out of control.
At first, Giyuu thought he could bear it. The dull, aching discomfort had been manageable. But by the fourth day, the pain intervals began crashing over him in relentless waves, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded. The fever came in strong, and the heat—the heat was unbearable.
It left him feeling hollow and desperate, his skin burning with the need to be touched. Every fiber of his being ached for relief, for something solid to cling to. And to his horror, the only thing that dulled the pain… was Sanemi.
It was humiliating.
Their bodies seemed to react instinctively—despite their mutual dislike, despite everything, being near Sanemi soothed the unbearable torment in his body. Even without touching, just being close to him was enough to ease the suffocating pressure.
Sanemi wasn’t doing any better.
They were both staying at the Butterfly Estate under constant monitoring, their conditions only worsening as the days passed. Kocho had done her best, trying every herbal remedy she could think of, but nothing seemed to work. Every treatment failed.
Worse than the pain itself was the gnawing, instinctual need—the overwhelming craving—to be touched, to be bitten and claimed . It wasn’t just a passing urge or discomfort; it was suffocating. A clawing, desperate hunger that twisted deep into their bones, demanding relief.
His presence. His scent.
Whenever Sanemi was near, the pain dulled just a little, the burning lessened just enough for Giyuu to think, to breathe. Their bodies reacted on their own, instincts guiding them to close the distance whenever they were apart for too long. It was humiliating, the way Giyuu’s body betrayed him, leaning toward Sanemi even when his mind screamed at him to resist.
The decision had already been made the moment he found himself sitting beside Sanemi on the engawa, both of them feverish and exhausted, neither willing to acknowledge the undeniable truth of their situation.
They were suffering. Giyuu remembered Amane-dono’s words ‘Ideally both of you can mate out of confidentiality.’ And they both knew exactly what would end it. Sanemi and Giyuu were sitting closely beside each other but not close enough to touch. Then, they both said it at the same time.
"Let's do it."
"Let's do it."
The weight of what they had just said settled between them, thick and undeniable. Neither of them backed down. Giyuu swallowed hard, throat dry. Sanemi’s expression was unreadable, his usual scowl replaced by something distant—something resigned.
They both knew there was no turning back now.
They left the Butterfly Estate, changing out of the loose, breathable robes they had been given and back into their uniforms. The familiar weight of their haoris settled over their shoulders, grounding them.
The walk to the Ubuyashiki estate felt like a fever dream to Giyuu. It felt like he was walking into a cure for this relentless pain but laced with the awareness of he's going to be mated.
To Shinazugawa.
That thought was more troublesome than telling the Oyakata-sama of their decision. Giyuu thought about taking it all back and just accepted death's hand but those thoughts floated away when he glanced at Sanemi's determined face. Giyuu doesn't think it's fair that Sanemi will die just because he welcomes death more openly. So he decided against it, hopefully, it'll go well.
And now, standing before Ubuyashiki and his wife, the weight of that decision settled over them like an unmovable stone. The only way forward was through this.
“You both have decided to mate each other?” Ubuyashiki’s voice was as gentle as ever, his sightless eyes fixed in their direction but both of them had a look of utter disbelief at what he and Sanemi just proposed. It took a while for Ubuyashiki to even say anything. Amane’s face was visible with shock and surprise and really anything synonymous to those words.
Sanemi and Giyuu stood rigid before him, tense, unyielding, but neither hesitated as they gave a single, resolute nod.
Ubuyashiki didn’t react immediately, his expression unreadable, but after a moment, he asked again, “Both of you agreed to this?”
Giyuu swallowed thickly.
“Yes, Oyakata-sama,” he confirmed. Sanemi’s agreement was just as firm. “We have.”
A long silence followed.
“I am not discouraging you in any way,” Ubuyashiki finally said, his voice quiet, measured, “however, you do understand that there are consequences and circumstances within a bond, correct?” A bond was more than just a solution to a problem. It was permanent. Unbreakable. It tied them together in ways the world and science has yet to fully comprehend. “Yes, it will save your lives but at what cost? Giyuu, Sanemi, you don’t need to feel obligated about this.”
This wasn’t a simple agreement. It wasn’t something they could undo once the pain subsided. They were binding their fates together—whether they wanted to or not.
“We understand,” Sanemi answered, his voice firm, unwavering.
Giyuu followed with a quiet but certain, “We do.”
For a moment, Ubuyashiki simply observed them, as though searching for any hesitation, any lingering doubt. But there was none.
At last, he exhaled softly.
Giyuu kept his gaze lowered, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. He could feel Sanemi’s presence beside him, solid and tense, but neither of them said anything more. They had already made their decision. There was nothing left to argue.
Ubuyashiki regarded them both with his usual calmness, though there was a trace of sorrow in his expression. “This is not the path either of you would have chosen under normal circumstances. But I am grateful that you have made this decision together and communicated.” His voice was gentle, yet firm, as if trying to ease the weight of what they were about to do. Communicated? Giyuu doesn’t think saying ‘Let’s do this.’ at the same time was communication but it's not like it matters now.
Amane, sitting beside him, folded her hands together. “I was merely verbalizing possibilities—I did not intend for it as a suggestion to be a legitimate cure for the poison. A mating bond is irreversible. It will tie you to each other for life, and even if love is not yet present, the effects of the bond will demand loyalty and care.”
Sanemi was the first to reply, “We wouldn’t be standing here if we weren’t sure,” he said gruffly.
Ubuyashiki smiled faintly, though there was sadness behind it. “Then you have my blessing.”
Giyuu finally lifted his gaze. “Thank you, Oyakata-sama.”
Ubuyashiki nodded. “I shall speak to your attendants and ensure that everything is arranged accordingly. I will also send word to Urokodaki-san.”
At that, something in Giyuu’s chest tightened. Urokodaki. His master, his father figure. Would he be disappointed? Would he be relieved? There was no way to know until he read that letter himself.
Amane lowered her head in quiet apology. “I am sorry that we could not find another way to neutralize the poison.”
Giyuu shook his head slightly. “It’s… not your fault.”
Sanemi let out a sharp exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what now?”
Amane exchanged a glance with her husband before answering. “You will need to complete the bond soon,” she said carefully. “The longer you wait, the worse the pain will become.”
Giyuu stiffened, feeling his ears heat up. He didn’t need to be reminded of what a mating actually entailed. Neither did Sanemi, judging by the way his jaw tightened.
Ubuyashiki nodded. “Traditionally, arranged mating bonds take place in the alpha’s quarters but it may be wherever you prefer. The attendants will make arrangements to ensure your privacy. Please… take care of each other.”
And just like that, it was final. No turning back.
As they left the room, walking side by side in tense silence, Giyuu found himself wondering—was this really the right choice? Would they ever be able to look at each other the same way again? But then another painful wave of heat pulsed through his body, and without thinking, he leaned slightly toward Sanemi. Immediately, the pain dulled just a little every time.
Sanemi didn’t say anything. But he didn’t move away either.
And so that week, Sanemi and Giyuu got mated. They didn’t ever talk about what it might mean for them.
Giyuu was pampered to be perfect for Sanemi, his attendants immediately fussed over him, like how an omega who is about to get mated traditionally is perfected to be ready for an arranged union. They bathed him and such, and combed through his thick dark hair after they almost scrubbed the skin off his bones. By the end of it, they sent him off with a loose yukata—looking like an absolute dream. On the outside, Giyuu exuded his usual calmness, his face unreadable as he padded through the halls towards the prepared room. But on the inside?
He felt like he was marching to his death. It was ridiculous, really. This was his decision, too.
He knew Sanemi wasn’t a bad person. If anything, they were similar—both of them forced into this because of a demon, both of them scared but too stubborn to admit it. Sanemi was just like him, trying to be brave in the face of something neither of them ever wanted.
As he stepped into the room, he caught sight of the small wooden table set close to the wall, a delicate porcelain teacup resting atop it. The tea had already been poured, its floral scent wafting faintly through the air.
Giyuu barely had to guess what it was.
Kocho had explained it to him earlier—it was a blend designed to induce his heat, accelerating the process so that it would align with the impending bond. It was harmless, she had assured him, its only purpose being to help things along and it would end the very next day or immediately after they are claimed. He didn’t know how he felt about that. With steady hands, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. It tasted pleasant enough—light and sweet, with a subtle herbal undertone. It was almost insulting how something so deceptively harmless could send him spiraling into heat.
One hour.
That was how long Kocho had said it would take for the effects to settle in, which leaves Sanemi more than enough time to collect himself as well and prepare for…their mating union. Giyuu set the empty cup back down on the table, his fingers pressing into the smooth wood. His hands felt clammy, his stomach twisting with nerves, he wondered how his life would be after this. Will it ever be the same?
His thoughts blurred together, time slipping from his grasp. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at nothing.
But it certainly wasn’t an hour.
The effects were already creeping in, slow but undeniable. His body felt warmer, a faint hum spreading beneath his skin. But then the heat sharpened—pain is starting to return to him in knots and scalding flames again, licking up his spine, setting every nerve ablaze.
A choked noise left him as he abruptly pushed himself up, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. He barely made it across the room before collapsing into the plush futon.
And then—
Sanemi’s scent hit him like a crashing wave. It was everywhere.
Crisp mountain air and mint tinged with the usual musk of an alpha—rough, grounding, comforting.
His body responded instantly, every sharp edge of his pain dulling as the scent wrapped around him, easing the unbearable need clawing through his core. He curled into it without thinking, his fingers gripping at the fabric as if it were a lifeline. His breaths came in uneven pants, his entire being thrumming with heat and want and helpless relief.
Sanemi wasn’t even here yet, but just being surrounded by his scent was helping.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
Nothing would be enough.
Not until Sanemi was here.
He stared up at the ceiling, there was no use in being nervous now—not when the familiar hum of his heat flowing through his veins. He brought his legs up so that his knees were staring up at the ceiling. Giyuu could already feel slick dripping down from him. Probably soaking up his lower half already. His vision is getting a little hazy, he wonders if Sanemi will take more time. As far as the alpha knew, he still had an hour to do…whatever it is that he had to do. Giyuu couldn’t remember. He thinks he can hold out but really all he can do now is wait and hope that Sanemi appears sooner or later. He’s hoping it’s sooner.
He took off the yukata, it was too hot. His body felt way too hot and it was rubbing on his skin in all the wrong places. He turns his head to smell the alphas pillow, eager to take satisfying inhales of his scent. As expected, a gush of slick follows soon after.
He doesn’t think he can survive for much longer.
Sanemi sees Giyuu laying on his futon, naked , not even looking shy, just really nervous. The room was filled with Giyuu’s sweet and mind numbing smell of an omega in heat but Sanemi could catch a hint of nervousness spilling from his as well.
Sanemi didn't exactly think too much about inducing Giyuu’s heat and mating him besides saving both of their lives. But upon seeing him right now he’s a little stunned—because seriously, this is so messed up.
Sanemi shoved it all down just like he always does. He walks right up to the omega, the room seemed to amplify Giyuu’s intoxicating smell, overripe peaches and flowers in the summer but balanced with the the cool salt air of autumn, almost magnetic like it was pulling him towards the source.
So Sanemi let himself be pulled.
“They said it’d take an hour for that shit.”
“I thought so too.”
“You shared a heat with anyone before?”
Giyuu answered without missing a beat despite letting out labored pants “Yes, a couple of times.”
“Good.” That put Sanemi’s mind at ease a little bit. At least they both knew what to expect and what they’re supposed to do.
“Have you?”
“Yeah, nothing I can’t handle.”
“Okay.” Sanemi tried to keep a clear head from the way Giyuu was letting out short puffs of hair, face flushed until his collarbones, it was probably only a matter of time before he was in full-blown heat.
As expected, it didn’t take that long because while Sanemi took off his clothes Giyuu started to wail and clutch at his stomach although he didn’t move at his spot on his futon. Sanemi reflexively let out calming pheromones and it served its effects but it only heightened Giyuu’s mouth watering scent and the potency of floral smell mixing with salt air.
Sanemi quickly positioned himself in front of Giyuu’s tightly closed legs that were bare. Fuck, they were gorgeous and fucking smooth.
“Tomioka.” Giyuu only whined in response. Before they were going to do anything, Sanemi needed to make one thing clear and he wanted Giyuu to listen and give him an answer. In a demanding voice, almost sounding like a command, he says “Tomioka, look at me.” That seemed to awaken Giyuu because he paused from his whining and his attention was directed at the alpha.
“Can I touch you?” The omega only nodded but Sanemi wanted to hear it. He wasn’t mannerless—Of course he’d ask for consent.“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, yes, you can. Touch me already.” Sanemi placed his calloused hands on top of Giyuu’s knees and the omega almost looked drunk at the contact already. But when Sanemi pried his legs open, Giyuu forced his legs to remain closed.
Sanemi looked at him but before he could say anything, Giyuu opened his legs and the tea worked wonders because he was already gaping and glistening. Really eager to take a knot already. His inner thighs were fully slicked, even staining his futon. There was a noticeable damp puddle under Giyuu’s ass that told him everything he needed to know.
And don’t even get him started on the omega’s fucking scent. Gosh it was definitely hypnotizing. He has never felt so enraptured at an omega’s pussy before, he’s seen plenty ever since he got his first rut but Giyuu’s might just be the best—yeah no he’s getting off track.
He shakes his head and returns back to reality when he hears Giyuu squirm and mewl at him to move and do something . He immediately dives in and bites and licks up the omega’s inner thighs and when he gets that first contact of slick in his tongue—it was even better than the scent—he chases after it. He sucks on both of Giyuu’s thigh too. The omega seems to like it because every time he leaves a mark, Giyuu moans a little louder.
Sanemi didn’t resist pressing two fingers in Giyuu’s hole after deciding that he’s had enough of playing with the omega’s thighs and as he expected it slipped right in with no resistance at all. He hears Giyuu groan out a satisfied moan, nudging Sanemi with his knee, uttering only a single word—“More.”
Sanemi obeys and moves his fingers up and down slowly, fascinated by Giyuu’s cunt sucking him in, eventually he gets greedy too because he adds a third finger with no warning and fucks Giyuu with them to the knuckles every single thrust. Giyuu screams but it was more a sound of surprise and pleasure than anything.
Once Giyuu started sounding like he’s one second away from an orgasm and started thrusting himself back on Sanemis fingers, he pulled out his fingers. Giyuu whined at the loss but he quickly quieted when he realized what was about to happen next. The alpha positioned himself in front of the omegas hole, not acknowledging the fact that he was already hard from responding to the omega’s scent and noises alone.
“I’m putting it in. You ready?” Giyuu only frantically nods. That answer was good enough, all things considered.
Sanemi sinks in and fuck it feels so fucking good . Giyuu’s warm walls enable the alpha to get more of it, to mark it, to stake his claim . When he bottoms out it feels even better, he so badly wants to move and fuck that heat more but he takes a quick glance at Giyuu who was now squeezing his eyes closed.
He doesn’t look to be in pain, squeezing impossibly tight around him as well. “You okay?”
“You’re big.” Sanemi takes a different approach and decides on a gentler way no matter how much his inner alpha is screaming at him to be nothing but rough and demanding. After a while of slowly sliding in and out, Giyuu gives him a more relaxed look “You can move.”
Sanemi wasted no time and all but fucking slammed back into Giyuu over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of Giyuu’s cunt echoed throughout the room. He can only hold out for so long when the delicious glide of the omegas walls was making him chase it more.
Giyuu was full on moaning at every thrust sent his way “Faster, faster, harder, Shinazugawa.” Sanemi gripped Giyuu’s waist and forced him to meet each and every hard thrust. Giyuu seemed to enjoy it because he was desperately trying to suppress the noises that he was making.
At that, Sanemi grabbed the back of Giyuu’s thighs and placed them over his shoulders, never relenting in his pace, bending him in half into a classic mating press. He feels a knot starting to form and Giyuu immediately reacts upon feeling it too because he says between a moan
“Alpha, knot!” The omega’s hands fly up to land on Sanemi’s shoulder. He fucked his knot in and out of Giyuu’s sopping pussy until he couldn’’t anymore and they were finally locked in together.
It was time.
“Your neck.” Giyuu immediately obeyed, frantically nodding his head and bearing his neck to the alpha in submission and pure desire to be mated. Sanemi stared at Giyuu’s bared neck, mating gland daunting him, his mouth hanging open in hesitation. Fuck why did it have to be this way?
He can tell Giyuu was just as tense as he is even if his face didn’t show it. Sanemi could feel that Giyuu’s muscles were tight with tension and anticipation. His eyes were closed, creasing slightly to show he was also tightly keeping them shut.
Sanemi let out a long drawn out sigh of defeat and finally broke skin and sank his teeth into the omega’s neck. Giyuu’s body jolted in surprise and slowly came down from the high of being knotted—almost not registering Sanemi blowing his load in him, his body grew soft and pliant in the alpha’s hold, unable to support himself. His back collided with the futon, chest heaving as Sanemi lapped up the blood and tried his best not to do a shit job at cleaning the wound.
Sanemi didn’t feel an instant change within himself, he figures that Giyuu must’ve been feeling the same as him right now. Scared, nervous as fuck, and fucking worried about everything.
And then it was Giyuu’s turn.
Sanemi bared his neck and nudged Giyuu to claim his mark. The omega looked contemplative for a moment before he leaned in and bit. Sanemi hissed in pain but overall it wasn't actually that bad. He could feel Giyuu’s tongue licking at the blood dripping from his bite. Sanemi almost feels like Giyuu was caressing the wound but that must just be the heat acting.
Once Giyuu was done, he moved them into a more comfortable position, slightly jostling the area where they were connected so he muttered an apology. Giyuu’s back was to his chest in a respectable distance, figuring that it would be better that way.
“Are you on birth–”
“I’m on birth control.”
Honestly, Sanemi didn’t even notice that he came inside Giyuu until he saw some of it leaking out of the omega’s pussy. He kind of felt sorry for not giving a heads up, he was gonna have to clean them up later.
For now, sleep was calling out to him.
They don’t ever talk about it at all when Giyuu stayed at the wind hashiras estate when they were newly bonded and they needed to be in close proximity for the bite to heal and the bond solidify.
The next morning, Giyuu felt this odd sense of completion from his omega for some reason that he doesn’t understand and he doesn’t care to acknowledge the feeling. He woke up alone, the space beside him somewhat still warm and he’s honestly grateful for that. It’s weird waking up to someone you barely know.
Giyuu exhaled slowly, rolling onto his side. That was when he noticed it.
The scent.
He never got a sure confirmation but last night he remembers the intertwining scents of him and Sanemi. He had caught faint traces of it last night, dulled by exhaustion and the haze of the bond settling. But now, in the quiet of the morning, he could smell it clearly. His own scent—was intertwined seamlessly with Sanemi’s.
He blinked up at the ceiling, mind slow to wake, body still sore and heavy from the lingering effects of the bonding process. It wasn’t painful, but he could feel it—an odd warmth at the base of his neck where the bite rested, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Oddly enough they mixed together perfectly. Now that he was more conscious, he could smell it clearly, his floral and subtle peach scent mingled with Sanemi’s typical alpha musk with mint undertones calmed his body reflexively. Giyuu frowned at that realization, fingers curling into the sheets. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It wasn’t something he had ever considered before, and now that he knew, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The bond was still settling, still new, still something he hadn’t fully come to terms with.
But his body had. That much was clear from the way his breathing evened out, the way his muscles lost some of their tension just from the scent alone. And from the way his omega was warm and fuzzy inside. Instinct over rational thought.
He realizes that there weren't any dried residuals of their previous…sexual intercourse, he was absolutely clean. He suspects the attendants did it but there was a higher chance that Sanemi was the one who took responsibility—instincts or something like that. Giyuu doesn’t know how to feel about that. He looks for his yukata that he threw around the room somewhere last night and finds it neatly folded beside him.
Okay. This is–really odd. It could be the attendants but Giyuu decides not to dwell on that thought too much.
When he gets up there’s an immediate soreness that he feels in his hips and waist and surely there are bruises from Sanemi’s grip on him. The same with his thighs but only in the inner parts, they weren’t sore but there were several purple blots on his porcelain skin and vague teeth lines indented along them. His cheeks flush a little from what the marks imply.
The rumble of his stomach is what snaps him out of his trance.
He sighed, then slowly pushed himself up from the futon. His body still felt sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion he couldn’t quite shake off. The bond settling, most likely.
Whatever it was, he didn’t want to think about it. Padding quietly into the kitchen, he paused in the doorway when he spotted Sanemi already there, eating something.
The second he stepped in, he saw the way Sanemi stiffened, chopsticks pausing briefly before resuming their movements. Giyuu debated turning back and returning to the futon, but then his stomach grumbled again—loudly this time—and he realized there was no point in avoiding him.
They had to stay close anyway. That was the whole point of this arrangement.
Still, the air in the kitchen was thick. Not quite awkward, but… odd. Unsettling. The kind of tension that felt like a blade hovering between them, like either one of them could snap and drive it into the other’s heart at any moment.
With slight awkwardness.
A lot of awkwardness.
Before he could even resume walking, the attendants noticed him and immediately moved to seat him, fussing over him as they placed a meal in front of him. He muttered a quiet thanks and started eating, forcing himself to take deliberate, measured bites even though his body was screaming at him to devour everything in front of him.
He could still feel Sanemi there, even without looking. Every movement, every shift, the presence of another person in the room that his instincts wouldn’t let him ignore.
After a while, Sanemi stood up. Giyuu didn’t react at first, too focused on finishing his meal, but then—A sharp, searing throb pulsed through his mating mark, sudden enough to make him wince. Across the room, Sanemi cursed, the sound gritted out through his teeth. Giyuu saw his shoulders go rigid, saw his fingers twitch like he wanted to grab at his own mark.
By the look on the elderly attendant’s face, Giyuu was right in assuming what that meant. Her expression was somewhere between horror and exasperation, as if she was already dreading the consequences of Sanemi pulling away too soon.
Giyuu didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. With clear reluctance, Sanemi slowly sat back down. The attendant’s face visibly relaxed. Giyuu was sure he even heard a quiet sigh of relief.
He resisted the urge to sigh himself. So this was how it was going to be.
Giyuu ended up eating three servings before finally deciding he was done. His body demanded the extra sustenance, and he figured he might as well indulge it. His appetite had never been particularly large before, but now? Now, it was like his body was working on overdrive, replenishing something he hadn’t realized he was missing. He can’t really remember if he ate last night either.
During his time at the estate, Sanemi’s attendants gradually grew fond of him—not that they openly showed it when Sanemi was around. They were subtle, in their own way, treating him with a quiet kindness that he wasn’t really used to.
Sanemi, on the other hand, kept his distance.
Giyuu rarely saw him up close. He caught glimpses of him at a distance when he left his chambers, only ever seeing him as a passing figure in the estate, following his routine with the same rigid discipline as always.
He left Giyuu completely in the care of his attendants, which, if he was being honest, wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He spent time with them, having simple but oddly comforting conversations.
Like this one—
“Are you mated?”
“Oh yes, about seventeen years ago now.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Well, wouldn’t you know, Tomioka-sama?”
“I… didn’t really pay attention that much.”
“Oh. I apologize, that was rude of me—”
“It’s okay.”
And this conversation—
“Are you in love with your mate?”
“I am terribly so. Especially when he doesn't leave his dirty clothes on the floor.” She huffed a laugh.
“That must be nice.”
The attendant winced, she was the elderly attendant from before, “I am sorry, Tomioka-sama. Rest assured that Shinazugawa-sama is a fine young man.”
“No need to be sorry. I’m not worried about him, just that… I guess I wanted to look for mine is all.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t look for mine. She has been my best friend since childhood.”
The attendants, however, seemed determined to keep him entertained. At some point, they even tried teaching him how to cook.
It was a lost cause.
His sister had taught him how to do all sorts of things properly—cleaning, taking care of the house, even looking after babies—but cooking was something he had never been good at. It didn’t matter how much he paid attention; somehow, things always went wrong.
His first attempt at making rice ended up with a burnt bottom and a half-raw top. The second time, he added too much water, turning it into some sort of inedible porridge.
By the third attempt, the attendants had to physically stop him before he could waste another batch. They were mostly amused by his failures, but Giyuu still insisted on cleaning up the mess he made and washing all the dishes afterward.
It was the least he could do.
Unlike the usual suffocating tension that often accompanied their master’s presence, there was a strange sort of calm that came with the Water Hashira’s quiet existence. He wasn’t demanding, wasn’t particularly talkative, but his presence alone seemed to soften the air around them. It was strange, yet oddly welcome. Aside from Ubuyashiki, only Sanemi’s attendants and Giyuu’s single attendant back at his own estate knew about their mating bond. The secret was well-kept, spoken about only in hushed voices when they were certain neither Sanemi nor Giyuu was within earshot. They didn’t fully understand the circumstances of the bonding—only that it had been necessary. Forced, even.
But despite not knowing the full truth, they were utterly shocked.
Sanemi—rough, brash, and untamed—had been gifted such a beautiful, soft-hearted omega. Or at least that's what Sanemi’s attendants say.
It wasn’t that they thought their master didn’t deserve him. It was just… surprising. Both of them were so young. And with the kind of work they did, mating wasn’t something that typically came easily, much less something that could be considered safe.
But what shocked them even more was how quickly Giyuu recovered.
The usual healing process after a mating bond took time—weeks, sometimes months for others. And yet, Giyuu’s recovery had been almost miraculous. Some whispered that it was because they were true mates, that their souls had recognized each other and allowed the process to move faster. Others speculated that perhaps it was simply because Giyuu was a Hashira, his body stronger and more resilient than most.
Regardless of the reason, there was one thing the attendants agreed on—Giyuu was stunning.
They often reminded him of his beauty, never missing a chance to shower him with compliments. Very, very often.
“Your beauty is truly untouchable and blinding, Tomioka-sama,” they would sigh in admiration.
“Such an alluring omega… The gods must have taken their time crafting you.”
“Your hips, perfectly wide—so ideal for carrying children.”
He never quite knew how to respond to those particular comments. He would often blink at them, unsure whether to be embarrassed or indifferent. He mostly just nodded, was he supposed to say thank you?
“And your hair… so long, so healthy, so beautiful. You must use something special.”
“I don’t use anything.”
They swooned.
The attendants adored his hair, often running their fingers through the silky strands and taking every chance they could to comb it, as if it was some sort of rare treasure. They would sigh wistfully, murmuring about how it was fitting that a magnificent omega would obviously have such luscious locks without even trying.
And his skin—oh, they absolutely fawned over it.
Soft, smooth, porcelain-like. Giyuu was breathtaking in a way that left them speechless.
“Comparing you to the beauty of the finest oiran would be an understatement, Tomioka-sama.”
He never quite knew how to respond to that, either. But he let them fuss over him anyway. It made them happy.
The next few days go like that—an endless cycle of proximity, distance, and cautious experimentation.
They had to be close for their bond to settle properly, but neither of them was particularly thrilled about it. Every day, they tested the limits, pulling away just a little farther to see if the pain would return. At first, even a few steps apart sent sharp aches through their chests, the bond resisting their separation with an almost physical force. But as the days passed, the pain lessened.
By the fifth day, they could stand on opposite sides of the room without discomfort.
By the sixth, they could leave the chambers briefly without feeling the dull throb of their bond tugging them back together.
And on the seventh day, they could be apart entirely.
Giyuu only ever saw glimpses of Sanemi during this time. They shared the same space, but they hardly interacted unless it was necessary. They still slept in Sanemi’s chambers, but on separate futons. Again, it was… awkward.
Sanemi avoided looking at him entirely, and when he did—when his gaze flickered to Giyuu for the briefest of moments—it was always accompanied by a furrowed brow, a scowl barely concealing the uncertainty beneath it.
Giyuu never said anything about it. Oh well. Just a few more days and they would be fully healed.
And then, on that very seventh day, something else changed.
Giyuu sat still as his attendants combed through his hair, their touch gentle and methodical. He let them work in silence, but there was an irritation prickling at the edge of his senses, an uncomfortable sensation that had been bothering him since that morning.
His scent glands itched.
Worse than that—they felt swollen–No, they were definitely swollen.
He had no idea why. “Your expression is troubled, Tomioka-sama,” one of the attendants murmured, carefully running her fingers through the strands of his hair.
Giyuu hesitated, then reached up to rub at the sensitive spot on his neck, frowning slightly. “My scent glands are bothering me,” he admitted quietly. “They’re swollen and… itchy.”
The attendants exchanged knowing glances.
“That just means you should be scented by your mate, dear,” one of them explained gently, as if speaking to a child who didn’t quite understand how the world worked.
Giyuu’s frown deepened.
Scented?
He hadn’t even considered that possibility. But now that they mentioned it…
He had been avoiding thinking about the bond as anything other than a cure for the demon’s influence. But the truth was, bonds were meant to function in a certain way. Scenting was natural between mates, an instinctive form of reassurance and comfort. And if his scent glands were reacting like this, it meant they were actively seeking that reassurance from Sanemi.
The realization was frustrating. But it explained things. Later that evening, when the attendants had left and the two of them were once again left alone in their shared space, Giyuu finally brought it up. He sat on his futon, absently rubbing at the side of his neck, the itch persisting no matter how much pressure he applied. He debated just ignoring it.
But the discomfort was quickly growing unbearable.
“…Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi, who had already laid down with his back to the omega, barely acknowledged him at first. “What?”
Giyuu shifted slightly. “My scent glands are swollen.” Sanemi raised a brow, still not looking at him. “Okay?”
“And they’re itchy.”
Sanemi gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “What the fuck does that shit have to do with me?”
Giyuu exhaled, patience thinning. “You need to scent me.”
Sanemi blinked, his entire body tensing for a moment before his expression turned into something unreadable. “...you shitting me?”
“No.”
Sanemi stared at him for a long moment, like he was debating whether or not to argue. And then, with a grumble, he exhaled sharply through his nose and uncrossed his arms.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Come here.”
Giyuu hurriedly moved to sit in front of the alpha, his legs folded under him. Frankly, he was sick of his scent glands constantly bothering him when the simple remedy to it was being scented by his mate.
Oh my gosh, Sanemi was his mate , his alpha .
They just stared at each other for a few seconds, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Sanemi looked like he wanted to say something—his mouth parted slightly, brows furrowing—but no words came. Instead, he hesitantly raised a hand, pausing midair like he was still debating whether this was a good idea.
Then, with a quiet exhale, he committed.
His rough fingertips brushed against Giyuu’s jaw first, a fleeting, barely-there touch before he shifted lower. He pressed his wrist against the scent gland at the curve of Giyuu’s neck, rubbing carefully. Warmth flooded Giyuu’s body at the sensation, relief washing over him like a cooling wave. The itch, the dull ache—it all faded instantly, soothed by the presence of Sanemi’s scent.
Giyuu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Sanemi was stiff at first, but after seeing the way Giyuu’s body relaxed, something in him seemed to ease as well. His movements became smoother, more fluid, as he swiped his wrist across the other scent gland. Then, hesitating only briefly, Sanemi leaned in and brushed his nose against the same spots.
It sent a shiver down Giyuu’s spine. It was instinctive, this act—something alphas and omegas did without thinking. And yet, here they were, treating it like a mission that had to be endured.
Sanemi’s scent—wild, sharp, distinctly him—clung to Giyuu now, wrapping around him like a second skin.
And it wasn’t done yet.
Sanemi wordlessly took Giyuu’s wrists in his hands, his grip firm but careful. He lifted them to his own scent glands, just below his jaw, and pressed. Giyuu’s hands twitched slightly against the warmth of Sanemi’s skin, but he didn’t pull away. He let himself be guided, rubbing slow, thorough circles. The scent transfer was complete in seconds, but they both lingered just a little longer.
The room immediately filled with the intertwined mix of their scents. Familiar, grounding, unmistakable.
Giyuu only snapped out of the haze when Sanemi abruptly let go, dropping his hands like he had just realized how close they were.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Giyuu muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”
Sanemi just grunted, looking anywhere but at him. Without another word, Giyuu pushed himself up and padded towards his futon, slipping under the blankets and closing his eyes.
Even as he tried to sleep, the scent of Sanemi clung to him, curling into his lungs and settling in his bones.
The next day, Giyuu’s inner omega was almost purring in what seemed like contentment. He and Sanemi could be apart in great distances now, there was no reason for him to stick around. So when he brought it up to Sanemi, he only agreed with a nod. Nothing else needed to be spoken. The attendants were absolutely heartbroken that he was leaving so soon—they didn’t voice it out but Giyuu was sure that was how they felt.
Their eyes filled with unshed tears gave it away.
The first year of their mated life passed in an almost indifferent silence. It wasn’t as if they suddenly blossomed into something more, something meaningful. It wasn’t like they had any deep connection to each other beyond the forced bond that had been established between them.
Sanemi and Giyuu, though technically mated, obviously acted as if nothing had changed between them, as if the world hadn’t shifted the moment they had been forced to claim each other in such an intimate way.
They kept their distance, both physically and emotionally. The bond was never acknowledged, and neither one of them spoke about it. They both hid their marks—Sanemi with the high collar of his uniform, Giyuu with the carefully arranged strands of his hair that shielded his neck. Neither of them wanted anyone to know. The idea of anyone recognizing their scent—of Sanemi’s wild, minty alpha musk mingling with Giyuu’s cooler sweet omega scent—was something they both worked hard to avoid. They didn’t want to bring attention to something that, in their minds, didn’t even exist.
Despite their best efforts, the faint traces of their shared scent lingered, the aroma impossible to erase entirely. But over time, it faded, the sharpness of their bond dulling as they spent more time apart. They relied on blockers to dull the scent and to ensure no one noticed the change in their presence. And when it finally faded away, Giyuu breathed a little easier, relieved that the scent of each other would no longer be so noticeable.
Sanemi didn’t care to think much about it. The bond, the mating, it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. His mind was always elsewhere, focused on missions, demons, and the tasks that required his attention. Sanemi treated Giyuu the same as always, he didn’t even think about him that much but when he did it would just end a mild irritation over his mind. He wasn’t certain how to feel about Giyuu because he couldn’t understand him, that was all that he knew about Tomioka because that was all he showed. He always tried to shake off the memories he had of Giyuu when they bonded, he couldn’t even look at him during it really, he’s sure that the omega felt the same way about this agreement.
The only thing they did agree on was that they weren’t about to give their lives to the circumstances a demon put them in that will hold them back from diminishing the world of demons. And Giyuu didn’t bother thinking about it either because why should he? He wasn’t even supposed to be slaying demons at all, he still thinks that Sabito should have gotten this title and that he is unworthy of it.
At first they swore to not lay a finger on each other after that unless it was for their cycles, which wasn’t a big deal it wasn’t that hard. And they both agreed that seeing other people was just morally wrong even if they weren’t romantically involved. Sanemi didn’t like Giyuu like that and never will, same goes for Giyuu he doesn't care enough to actually think about it.
Giyuu obviously thinks of it only as convenience, he still has his life and he can still slay demons for a better place to live in and give justice. He never really thought about mating or marriage a lot, the previous water hashira did teach him the basics of it of course and to protect him from dangers. His sister also prepared him for stuff like this though he was too young to truly understand what she meant. Sabito briefly mentioned stuff like this, Giyuu recalled that he thought it was wonderful to be mated to someone that wants to coexist with you willingly enough to bond with you. Giyuu thought that it was a fascinating idea, and that he’d like to have that some day.
Maybe he thought Sabito would have been that person. Just his luck that he ends up with a forced bond, with a brash person.
The only catch in their arrangement was that he ended up with a rather…hateful and unpredictable person as a mate. Back then, Giyuu thought that maybe it would have been just someone that treated him the way his sister and Sabito did, someone who cared . Someone that didn’t treat him like he was someone to be insulted and criticized, someone who liked him because of his true personality, someone he didn’t have to change for because they matched each other perfectly.
He goes as far as thinking about courting rituals, Tsutako’s soon to be mate was absolutely sweet to his sister, he did romance classics like getting her flowers, taking her out on dates, getting a stable job, helping Tsutako with finances even if she insisted it was fine. The guy was also nice to Giyuu, like his sister was. He gave him meaningful mating gifts he would make himself and promised his sister a lifetime filled with love and happiness.
That was until the demon killed them before their wedding day so that she could protect Giyuu and then they were gone and Giyuu was alone.
He complained that he was still alive because truthfully, Giyuu was kind of glad when he heard that his life was declining rapidly because of the poison, he didn’t deserve to be here right? And his master won’t have to commit seppuku because Giyuu would have died of a natural cause because of the demon, it was a win-win.
Then Sanemi spoiled it all by being courageous and whatnot for the sake of humanity and decided to mate with someone he barely knew to keep doing his duty.
So here he was, with a permanent bite mark on his neck. He's grateful to be alive, really but either way he would’ve been fine.
Giyuu ran his fingers over his mating bite while looking at the mirror. His fingers carefully traced the edges shaped in the alpha’s canines and teeth, gently caressing the sides of it in circles, like it would disappear if he touched it long enough. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and it's already healed but it still looks as fresh and prominent as ever.
Everyday, Giyuu feels like it grows more and more carved onto his skin, making its presence known with a radiance that can only come from a newly claimed omega. There’s that pit of uncertainty that he feels whenever he’s reminded of its existence, like dark entities that haunt him by looming over him with the threat that they will expose his mating bite like a sharp katana to his neck.
But theres also that deeply satisfied and thrilled feelings that his inner omega radiate within him, like there’s no place he’d rather be but in this exact predicament, almost purring at the mere thought of it. Bonded to a strong and capable alpha—He truthfully does not understand how he should deal with it.
After Sanemi bit his neck, he knew there was no going back, no true love or whatever, like Sabito and his sister had said.
It was no longer battling for dominance, instead it swirled around his mind and heart like it was swayed by romance, tangled up in a delicate eternal dance without a care if anyone saw or if any one else knew. He didn't care because he had this, and he was settled. What more could he want? Nothing else. Simply this.
Only an eternal battle of darkness and sunshine colliding in his heart and mind.
They still don’t talk about it until they both realize separately that from now on, they would have to spend Giyuus heat cycles and Sanemis ruts together. Like they will forever be spending it with each other.
And that problem erupted conveniently when their…mating union almost sunk deep down from their consciousness.
Reality sunk in when Giyuu was reminded by his attendant one day. Since they're mated, they couldn't spend it with other people because their bond restricted them from that. Giyuu had enough knowledge about how bonds and matings between omegas and alphas work. His sister made sure of that, Giyuu guesses that she always knew that he won’t always have her to rely on. Tsutako would always educate him about it to prepare Giyuu, since he was an omega and all. He obviously didn’t understand the extent of how that would apply to him since he was young.
He never really thought it would happen this early in his life. Urokodaki obviously taught him about that stuff too along with Sabito, the concept of mating and bonding wasn’t foreign to him. He assumes it was the same with Sanemi, sure he couldn’t write but he’s pretty resourceful.
His preheat had crept up on him slowly—first, the usual restlessness, the sensitivity, then the faint cramping that he had long since learned to ignore. He had gone through the motions like always, preparing small remedies for himself, adjusting his schedule to accommodate the fatigue, and staying mindful of his scent.
But this time, the cramps were sharper, rolling through him in relentless waves, stealing the breath from his lungs.
That’s when his attendant had spoken up.
“Will you be departing soon for the Wind Estate, Tomioka-sama?”
Giyuu blinked, momentarily disoriented. “Depart for the Wind Estate?”
The attendant, unbothered by his clear confusion, simply nodded. “Yes, for your heat?”
For his heat? Why would he be—Oh. Right.
They had an arrangement now.
The realization settled over him like a heavy weight. How had he forgotten something so important? He’d been so used to handling everything alone that it hadn’t even occurred to him that he didn’t have to anymore.
Still, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
“Yes, I think I will, soon,” he answered, though it felt strange to say out loud. The attendant only gave a polite nod, as if this was nothing more than routine. “In that case, I already prepared a bag for you. I will leave it at the door.”
Right. Because this is supposed to be routine now.
Giyuu swallowed, eyes flickering toward the doorway where he knew his bag would be. It was strange—having someone prepare for him like this, anticipating his needs before he even realized them himself. It felt foreign.
Before he could process it further, he tried his best to run to the Wind Estate where hopefully Sanemi is before his pain worsens even more.
An attendant greets him at the door and he asks her, “Sorry for the intrusion, is Shinazugawa here?”
“He is currently on a mission, Tomioka-sama, however, he will most likely return at dusk.”
That was…good, he supposed. At least that gave him a few hours to settle in before facing Sanemi. “Thank you,” Giyuu murmured, his voice quieter now.
The servant hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping forward slightly. “Do you need help with anything, Tomioka-sama? We anticipated your arrival. The master’s chambers are prepared for anything that both of you might need.”
Giyuu felt heat creeping up his neck at that.
He wasn’t used to people openly discussing his heats, let alone preparing for them. He had spent years keeping to himself, dealing with it in solitude.His throat felt dry. “Uh, I think I’ll be alright, but—” he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to ask, but his curiosity won in the end. “How did you know I was coming?”
The attendant gave him a knowing look. “Shinazugawa-sama seems to be in pre-rut for the past week. We assumed you would be spending your synced up cycle together.”
Oh.
Giyuu nodded slowly, absorbing that information. That did explain why his body felt so hypersensitive lately.
“…Right.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you again.”
“Of course, Tomioka-sama.”
As the attendants excused themselves, Giyuu remained seated for a long moment, staring at the packed bag by the door. His body ached. His scent glands tingled. And now, there was no avoiding what came next. No avoiding Sanemi.
No avoiding the reality of their situation.
With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, stepping toward the bag. The weight of it in his hand felt heavier than it should have. Even though this was his decision, it still felt like he was walking toward something irreversible.
The second time (and the many more times soon after) they had sex was definitely less... awkward? It was more less tense because they weren't under the circumstances of a mating union.
But they didn't exactly communicate... they were both under the haze of their cycles. It's not even necessarily a quick fuck, cause it can't be, obviously. Giyuu can't deny that it was good , it felt good ever since the first time but that was probably just because they were bonded or whatever. Ubuyashiki warned them that it would only be natural that their cycles synced up because they were newly mated, after that period, they would return to their normal cycles.
Which they'd forgotten because they tried so hard to forget about it.
“We need to have a better arrangement.”
“Fuck yeah we do.”
“Sorry for not letting you know.”
“Nah, I forgot too.”
So after their cycles finally subsided they came up with an arrangement. Giyuu’s heats and Sanemi’s ruts would always be spent at the Wind Estate. If they experience symptoms of their cycles, the other must be informed immediately to avoid conflicts. If they are on a mission that day—they agree that they can hold out for a maximum of 2 days before they become really desperate. Their cycles will probably be synced up for a few more times and this time they’d be more prepared.
And that was pretty much it. Simple and precise, if anything were to happen they can just adjust it accordingly so nothing extreme will happen. Atleast, that’s what they hope that’ll happen
Sanemi was utterly disoriented by the entire arrangement. Mating had never been something he considered, never something he wanted. Not after his childhood, not after what he had seen, what he had lived through.
To him, being mated—being bonded—was nothing more than a trap. A cage disguised as devotion. It was a shackle that forced two people together, stripping away their freedom under the guise of duty and love. And in that kind of bond, the omega was always the one controlled. Always the one who had to submit, to follow, to ensure that their every move and word wouldn’t set off the alpha they were tied to. He had seen it before—seen how a bond could take away someone’s happiness, how it could turn something that should be warm and safe into something suffocating and cruel.
And so, he did the only thing he could do—he avoided Giyuu.
If he stayed away, if he kept his distance, then he wouldn’t fall into the same patterns. If he never let himself get close, then he wouldn’t become that. Wouldn’t become him.
Because no matter how much time passed, no matter how much he told himself that he wasn’t like that fucking bastard , he couldn’t shake the fear that he could be. That deep down, something in him was the same. That, just like his sorry excuse of a father , he would turn out to be a monster.
And he refused. He refused to let that happen.
The best way to ensure that? To keep as much space between himself and Giyuu as possible.
It wasn’t like he had a choice in this. He hadn’t chosen Giyuu. He hadn’t woken up one day and decided that this was the omega he would bond with for life. No—just like everything else in his miserable existence, this was forced upon him, a decision made not by his own will but by cruel, twisted fate. He had always thought that if he had to be bonded, it would be his decision. That he would get to choose. That, if nothing else, he would at least have that much control over his own damn life.
When he looked at Giyuu, he saw that same uncertainty reflected back at him. The same unease, the same quiet hesitation. He could tell Giyuu didn’t know what to do either. Didn’t know how to act, how to move forward, how to be in this situation.
Sanemi didn’t know what he expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. His mother taught him about different human biologies, mating between an alpha and an omega, and how to deal with their instincts because he was the oldest.
He had always believed that a mating bond was supposed to be something sacred. Something shared between two people who chose to be together. But the love he had seen from his parents—if he could even call it that—surely wasn’t what it meant to be mated, right? That couldn’t be what it was supposed to be.
And yet, if that wasn’t it, then what was? Sanemi didn’t know. And maybe that was why he was so hesitant to even try to figure it out.
And yet—here he was.
Every glance that Giyuu gave him was equally uncertain, mirroring his own doubts. It made Sanemi uneasy. How the fuck were they supposed to do this? How did any of this fucking work? The love he had seen growing up—the fucked up, cruel, wrong version of it—surely wasn’t what it actually meant to be mated to someone. Right?
Still, he couldn’t shake his hesitation.
And the scenting—holy fucking shit. That was something else entirely.
He had done it, sure, but barely. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing. He only relied on what he had seen from other people—the ones he had saved on missions, the couples who had been reunited. He had watched them closely but subtly, stored away whatever he could in his mind so that he could at least pretend to know what he was doing when he scented Giyuu.
But the truth was, he didn’t know. Not really.
He hadn’t had anyone to teach him. His parents—should have been the ones to show him, to set an example, but obviously they weren’t exactly the best role models. His mother had scented him and his siblings before. That much he remembered. But that was different, right?
That wasn’t the same as scenting your mate. Right?
Sanemi let out a slow breath, staring at his hands as if they held the answers he needed. He hated feeling this unsure. Hated the gnawing feeling in his gut that told him he was doing something wrong—even though, logically, he knew that wasn’t the case.
But it still felt like he was stepping into something he didn’t understand. The mark in the shape of Giyuu’s teeth didn’t help his overthinking.
And that terrified him more than anything.
Notes:
I will most likely try my best to update once a week but no promises:((
Thanks for reading!!!
Chapter 3: just take my hand and
Summary:
The people swivelling all around them didn’t help either. Lively music played and people were whooping excitedly as they began to dance to the music. Giyuu barely had time to register what had happened before he felt the weight of Sanemi’s hands on his waist. His own hands—found their way to Sanemi’s shoulders.
They could only stand there frozen. His breath hitched.
Giyuu’s stomach dropped. His face felt unbearably warm. Around them, people whooped louder and clapped, the energy infectious as the music picked up in rhythm.
Of course it was a partner dance.
Notes:
As I said, the next few chapters will be structured like this as we unravel sngy’s ‘love’ story.
Disclaimer!! There is no exact pinpoint month in these timelines, just that they’re 18, etc. and that’s kind of my basis for the events for the flashback chapters or sometimes I might reference the seasons but, again, it’s not like it's that important plot wise or anything, just for clarity.
Also, it’s easier to understand events with their age as time markers so I will be putting those on top like the previous chapter. I just wanted to let you guys know just in case there will be confusion as to where and when they are because personally I like knowing those kinds of stuff too. The main thing is their ages will tell you that and that’s probably it.
There isn’t a lot of canon material about sngy during these years so most of them will probably be built around general events in the manga. It’s not like I’ll say everything that happened too, just stuff that I think is sorta relevant to this fic.
Happy readinggg!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Giyuu and Sanemi | Age 18
A week later, the air was lighter than before—less suffocating, less tense—but only just. They were called by Ubuyashiki, as expected, most likely following up from their bonding.
Giyuu wouldn’t go as far as saying that things had settled between them. There was no settling when it came to something like this. But at the very least, Giyuu no longer felt suffocated by the silence that engulfed them–only because nothing can quite exceed the tension he felt during the night he got mated to Sanemi.
He could tell that the alpha felt the same, he can feel Sanemi’s subdued nature through the bond, involuntarily communicating that he was unfazed by the meeting, his emotions carefully tucked away, as if unwilling to acknowledge the situation unless forced to.
It would be easy to keep it a secret. Sanemi wasn’t one to share personal information. Giyuu was even less talkative. The hardest part wasn’t keeping it a secret.
It was the pull.
That invisible thread that constantly, relentlessly pulled them toward each other. It was the way they became hyper-aware of each other’s presence.The way it was impossible not to notice.
Before, Giyuu had been nothing more than a speck in Sanemi’s peripheral vision—something distant, ignorable.
Now, Giyuu was the only thing he could pay attention to. The omega became a singular lively radiant flower that emits intoxicating fragrances in a field of dead weeds, intentionally blowing his scent towards his direction.
It was all that he could see, feel, smell, and it was utterly enchanting. He doesn’t know how Giyuu captured his attention without even doing anything but looking pretty .
Giyuu could be standing completely still, expression unreadable, and yet, Sanemi would still notice the way the light caught the angles of his face.The way his hair fell over his shoulders.
He feels like he can catch Giyuu’s scent in a crowd of a billion people--he could recognize him with presence alone.
And it’s only been 2 weeks .
Two weeks is barely enough time to just—admit that to himself.
They knelt before Oyakata-sama, offering their bows in deep respect.
“Has the bond healed thoroughly?”
“Are you both not in pain anymore?” Ubuyashiki’s words were careful, but the concern behind them was unmistakable.
“We have been doing well, Oyakata-sama.”
“That’s good to hear. If anything changes, please do not hesitate to let us know as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Oyakata-sama.”
“I apologize once more,” he said, tone full of quiet remorse. “I would undo it if I could.”
Sanemi kept his head bowed. He didn’t say anything. Neither did Giyuu. There was nothing to say.
Whatever apology Ubuyashiki and Amane gave wouldn’t undo what had already been done. Wouldn’t unbind their souls. Wouldn’t change the mark on Giyuu’s neck, or the way their bond thrummed beneath their skin, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Wouldn’t change the fact that they were tied together now—whether they wanted to be or not.
Ubuyashiki didn’t linger on it long. They both knew it was beyond his control and knowledge.
Another reason they had been called here was to receive a new mission.
The two of them, assigned to a mission together only a week after their forced mating? It was deliberate. Sanemi thought that Ubuyashiki was either playing matchmaker or genuinely concerned for their bond. He had heard stories before—of bonds severed too soon, of wounds left to fester and eat away at both alpha and omega, tearing them apart from the inside out. Although in most cases, the omega suffers the most.
Maybe that’s why they were being sent together. Maybe Ubuyashiki was making sure that didn’t happen to them. Sanemi exhaled sharply, pushing the thought aside as Ubuyashiki continued.
“There have been reports of a demon lurking in a town’s festival and terrorizing civilians there,” he explained. “Your mission is to infiltrate and eliminate the threat before any more casualties arise, there should be minimal difficulty, all things considered.”
A festival. Sanemi’s lips curled. That didn’t sound too bad. No endless trekking through the mountains, no sleepless nights in the freezing cold—just a festival, filled with people, food, and lanterns.
And one demon. Easy enough to execute.
If only he didn’t have to do it with his mate .
The train finally slowed to a halt, the station bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. As they stepped onto the platform, the air was already thick with the scent of festival food—grilled skewers, sweet dango, and the faintest trace of sake wafting through the town streets. Laughter and music echoed between the lantern-lit stalls, and the entire town seemed to be alive with celebration.
Sanemi adjusted the sleeves of his yukata, clearly uncomfortable in casual clothes. “This is fucking stupid,” he muttered.
Giyuu, dressed in a simple dark blue yukata with subtle wave patterns, didn’t respond. He merely scanned the festival grounds, noting the clusters of people moving between stalls, the excited chatter of couples, and the distant shimmer of fireworks being prepared for later.
“We need to blend in,” Giyuu finally said.
Sanemi scoffed but said nothing more, reluctantly following as they entered the heart of the festival.
It didn’t take long for them to notice that the festival was centered around the celebration of mates . Out of everything they were celebrating, it just had to be this. The universe must be plotting against them. Everywhere they looked, bonded pairs were present—holding hands, exchanging gifts, some even writing their names together on wooden plaques to hang at the town’s shrine. Soft murmurs of “Oh, you two should join in!” occasionally reached their ears, and more than once, elderly vendors mistook them for a couple and attempted to usher them toward romantic activities.
I mean sure, they’re mated but they are not a couple. At all. So far from it.
Sanemi was as stiff as a board each time it happened.
At one point, a group of older women giggled as they passed by, nudging each other before one of them—boldly—called out, “You both look lovely together! Newly bonded?”
Sanemi nearly choked on air, and Giyuu, as usual, gave no reaction other than a small blink.
“Uh, actually—” Sanemi started, but the women had already wandered off, completely oblivious to his flustered expression.
“…You’re too obvious,” Giyuu murmured as he wrapped his arms around Sanemi’s once more.
“Tch. Shut up.”
To avoid drawing any more attention to themselves, they tried to keep by the edges of the festival, pretending to browse food stalls while keeping an eye out for anything unusual. They knew the demon was lurking somewhere, and if they weren’t careful, it would slip past them unnoticed.
The crowd around them was thick, bodies pressed together in a tangle of movement and laughter. The sound of clapping and cheering echoed through the air as couples twirled and spun to the beat of the festival music.
Sanemi and Giyuu hadn’t meant to end up here—they’d only been trying to maneuver through the crowd after they were swept away by the stalls. But before they knew it, the space around them shifted, twisted, and suddenly they were standing face to face.
In the middle of a makeshift dance floor with decorated lamp posts and vibrant fabrics, all following the theme of romance .
The people swivelling all around them didn’t help either. Lively music played and people were whooping excitedly as they began to dance to the music. Giyuu barely had time to register what had happened before he felt the weight of Sanemi’s hands on his waist. His own hands—found their way to Sanemi’s shoulders.
They could only stand there frozen. His breath hitched.
Giyuu’s stomach dropped. His face felt unbearably warm. Around them, people whooped louder and clapped, the energy infectious as the music picked up in rhythm.
Of course it was a partner dance.
They should move. They should step away. They tried—but the crowd was too tightly packed. Each time they shifted, someone bumped into them, nudging them back together, urging them closer .
“Go on!” someone encouraged from the side. “Dance!”
Giyuu stiffened. He didn’t know how to dance. Oh gosh, they were going to humiliate themselves. But before he could spiral further into his thoughts, Sanemi moved.
A small, careful step to the side.
Then another.
“Just follow my lead,” Sanemi murmured, his voice quiet enough that only Giyuu could hear. Giyuu swallowed thickly, his heart pounding. He hesitated, but then Sanemi’s grip adjusted, steady and sure, and Giyuu let himself be guided.
There was no way whatever they were doing right now would not end up in a disaster–how do these things even work again? Shit, he might step on Sanemi’s toes—
Then, Sanemi tilted his head toward Giyuu, his breath warm against his ear. “Relax,” he murmured. “You’re thinking too much.” Giyuu opened his mouth to argue—but before he could, Sanemi led him into a slow spin.
Giyuu can feel his hands tremble even more. The movement was smooth, practiced. Sanemi spun him out just enough that their hands barely separated before pulling him back in, guiding him effortlessly back into place.
A couple beside them cheered, clapping at the display. Giyuu’s cheeks felt warm enough that he’s afraid he’ll be burned if his hands touch them.
Sanemi smirked. “See? Not so bad.” Somehow, they were moving. Somehow, they weren’t out of place anymore. They were dancing, like every other couple caught in the rush of festival lights and music, they swayed and turned, shifting seamlessly together. The discomfort, the initial awkwardness, it melted away—replaced by the simple rhythm of their steps.
Sanemi twisted at the waist, leading Giyuu into a quick two-step. Their feet brushed against the festival floor in perfect sync, the rhythmic stomp of their steps blending into the music.
Then, without warning, Sanemi dipped him.
Giyuu suppressed a gasp and instead let out a startled breath, his heart hammering as he found himself arched backward, Sanemi’s arm steady at his back.
It was smooth. Too smooth.
Sanemi pulled him back up, seamlessly transitioning into another spin before Giyuu could process what had just happened. “You—” Giyuu started, still slightly breathless.
Sanemi grinned. “What? I told you to follow my lead.” Giyuu didn’t know whether to be impressed or flustered out of his mind. Was this some sort of hashira requirement he wasn’t aware of? Not that he’d bother to actually know but still.
Giyuu found himself watching their feet, their movements in sync, his pulse still racing but for an entirely different reason. How did he know how to dance when he didn’t even know how to dance? Sanemi was also suspiciously good at this. Maybe a little too good.
The music sped up.
Sanemi grinned.
Suddenly Sanemi’s hand shifted from his waist to his wrist, guiding him into a series of slow but intricate twirls. Giyuu barely had time to react—Sanemi spun him twice, catching him effortlessly each time.
A surprised laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Sanemi spun him again, the crowd around them cheering at the display, and Giyuu couldn’t help but giggle. His feet followed Sanemi’s, caught in the complex steps, the tangle of hands and quick movements, but somehow—somehow—it all felt natural.
It was actually kind of…fun and when the music finally came to an abrupt stop, he found himself right back where he had started.
Back in Sanemi’s arms.
Giyuu was breathless, his fingers still curled slightly against Sanemi’s shoulders, his chest rising and falling quickly. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Sanemi’s face was close, his hands still firm at Giyuu’s waist, and there was—there was something in his expression.
The smallest, barely-there smile tugged at Sanemi’s lips. Giyuu’s stomach fluttered in a way he wasn’t ready to name. It felt like a heartbeat before Giyuu finally broke the silence. “How,” he started, still trying to catch his breath, “are you so good at this?” For a moment, he wondered what the alpha's pheromones would smell like right now. Would it smell excited and happy like him? Would he smell like he was feeling the same unnamed feelings Giyuu had right now?
Sanemi’s fingers flexed slightly at his waist before he shrugged, voice oddly soft. “My mom.”
Giyuu blinked.
Sanemi said it so simply, so casually, as if it wasn’t an entire revelation—as if he hadn’t just danced like it was second nature. And before Giyuu could ask anything else, before he could think too deeply about the warmth lingering between them, the soft, lilting melody drifted through the air, wrapping around them like a gentle embrace.
The music had changed.
His body went stiff as he registered the transforming atmosphere. Around them, people instinctively moved closer, hands finding familiar places, eyes meeting with warmth. Couples swayed together effortlessly, bodies pressed close, completely lost in each other.
Giyuu’s throat went dry. He wanted to pull away so badly but he also didn't want to, this is exactly the kind of time and place the demon would be lurking around, he tried to reason with himself. But mainly because—he’s never felt anything quite like this before. An electrifying excitement that’s flowing through his blood, thrumming like the music drifting in their surroundings—and he doesn’t want it to stop.
Sanemi must have felt it too because instead of letting go, he pulled Giyuu in closer. His movements were different this time—
One hand slipped into Giyuu’s, calloused fingers brushing against his palm. The other rested lightly at the small of his back, warm and steady, drawing him into a familiar but intimate closeness. Giyuu didn’t know when his arms had moved on their own, but suddenly, one was wrapped loosely around Sanemi’s shoulder, while the other was still captured in the alpha’s grip. He could hear his omega’s satisfactions whispering into his ear.
Their bodies pressed together, not quite touching, but close enough that Giyuu could feel the heat radiating from him.
They swayed gently, as if they had done this a hundred times before. Or maybe this was what newly mated pairs usually felt. No fancy footwork. No complicated spins. Just a simple rhythm. A slow, grounding pull that neither of them fought against.
He looked around the other couples and observed that they had their eyes closed, savoring the moment probably. Giyuu let his eyes flutter shut, just for a second. Just for a moment, he let himself sink into it.
They stayed in that position in what felt like an eternity but when the band gave out the final notes of the song it felt all too short of a time for Giyuu. Sanemi shifted slightly, Giyuu could feel his inhales and exhales just at the shell of Giyuu’s ear.
“You learn that from your mom too?” Giyuu asked, voice quieter than he intended.
Sanemi let out a soft huff, something close to a laugh. “Nah,” he said, tone almost teasing. “Don’t need to.”
Giyuu barely had time to process it before a blood-curdling scream ripped through the night and the atmosphere shattered instantly. Giyuu’s body snapped rigidly. Sanemi’s head whipped toward the sound, his entire posture shifting in an instant.
Reality came crashing back. The mission. The demon. The reason they were here.
Sanemi’s hands were gone in a second, reaching for his weapon.
Giyuu didn’t hesitate. He did the same.
A flicker of movement—a shadow too quick to belong to an ordinary festival-goer. Both their eyes snapped toward the disturbance at the same time, their instincts kicking in as they abandoned their— casual act and gave chase.
The fight itself was unlike any Giyuu had experienced before.
It was the first time he paid attention to him and Sanemi fighting side by side, how could he not pay attention when he just experienced the most bizarre slow dance in his life? It quickly became apparent how naturally their breathing styles flowed together. Wind and Water, two forces that seemed opposite yet complemented each other in perfect harmony.
Sanemi’s sharp, aggressive strikes forced the demon to retreat in erratic movements, which, in turn, pushed it right into Giyuu’s precise, flowing techniques. Where Wind was destructive and forceful, Water was adaptive and patient, striking only at the most opportune moments.
The more they fought, the more Giyuu realize how their breathing styles felt like a destructive intertwined force but it also had the possibility to be gentle and nurturing. It wasn’t just compatibility—it was something deeper, something instinctive. It was as if their breathing styles had been crafted to work together, designed to amplify each other’s strengths while covering each other’s weaknesses.
With every slash, every step, every perfectly timed movement, a veil of trust settled between them—one that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. Of course, Giyuu trusted Sanemi. And he was sure the alpha trusted him, too. But maybe it was only because they were Hashira—because they were trained to exceed expectations.
Once the demon was finally disintegrating and they were walking out of the alley where the demon spent her final moments in, Giyuu had the time to look around and actually appreciate the buzz of the festival still going on around them. It was still beautiful and captivating and it seemed twice as lively after they finally slayed the demon they were looking for. When he finally didn’t have any more worries.
And the more he looks around and lets the feeling sink in, he realizes that the atmosphere is really romantic even though there were children scattered about and running and having fun. Giyuu looks over to Sanemi who looks equally amazed at the sight, he feels a spark from their bond.
Sanemi turns his head to look at him and says a mildly irritated “What?” Giyuu immediately looks away and says “Nothing” he didn’t need to know anything else, their bond was communicating for them.
Giyuu eventually says “It's been a long time since I went to a festival.” He didn’t expect a reply from the alpha and yet—
“Me and my siblings weren’t allowed to go.” Giyuu sends Sanemi a curious look “Really? Why not?”
Sanemi shrugged, his eyes flickering away from Giyuu’s gaze as if debating whether or not to answer. The festival lights reflected in his pale irises, making them seem softer than usual, but his fingers clenched at his sides. “My old man didn’t like it,” he finally muttered. “Said it was a waste of time and money. Thought it was fucking stupid.”
Giyuu frowned, watching the way Sanemi’s jaw tightened at the mention of his father. He had never spoken about his family before—not in detail. Giyuu only knew bits and pieces, and even those were mostly things he had heard in passing from others.
Sanemi continued, his tone casual, but there was something beneath it—something heavy. “My mom always wanted to take us, though. She’d tell us about the fireworks, the food, all the games they had.” A small, humorless chuckle left him.
“She sounds nice.”
“She was. She used to say she’d take us when we were older. When things got better.”
“But that never happened, I’m guessing…” he murmured. Shinazugawa most likely lost his family to a demon, Giyuu didn’t need to ask.
Sanemi shook his head. “No. It never did.”
For a moment, the sounds of the festival faded into the background. The weight of what that meant lingered between them, thick and unshakable. This was probably the first time Sanemi heard Giyuu say more than a few words. Or anything about his life at all.
Then, as if realizing how much he had said, Sanemi scoffed and turned back toward the path. “Tch. Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”
But it was.
Giyuu knew that kind of loss. He understood the feeling of waiting for something that would never come, of clinging to memories of a family that no longer existed.
“How many siblings did you have?” It took a moment for the alpha to answer.
“Five.”
“I had a sister…she took me to one once,” Giyuu found himself saying, voice quiet. Sanemi stopped mid-step, glancing at him. “It was before—before everything happened. She snuck me out after our parents died. Said I needed something to look forward to.” Sanemi didn’t say anything, but Giyuu didn’t need him to. The bond between them pulsed—steady, grounding.
His inner omega not failing to point out that there was no rejection.
“Then a demon got to her.”
“Yeah.”
One way or another, Giyuu thought of how his life would’ve been different if the demon didn’t take his sister away. Maybe he wouldn’t have been mated to Shinazugawa. Or maybe he wouldn’t have met him at all.
“Your dad sounds like an asshole though.”
Giyuu was startled by the boisterous laughter Sanemi breathed out. “Damn right he is. We were barely getting by and he didn’t even care.” Sanemi exhales sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. He doesn’t know why he’s saying all this, why the words are leaving his mouth when he’s spent years forcing them down. Maybe it’s the festival, maybe it’s the way Giyuu listens, maybe it’s because for once, someone else would understand.
“He was a bastard. A real piece of shit.” Sanemi’s voice is bitter. “Beat us senseless over the smallest things. If my mom didn’t take the hits first, he would’ve killed one of us before we even had a chance to grow up.”
Giyuu’s fingers curl slightly at his sides. He doesn’t look at Sanemi, just keeps his gaze on the lantern-lit sky. “Your mother protected you.”
Sanemi lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “More than she should have. She did everything. Took the beatings, worked herself to the bone to keep us fed, tried to shield us from everything.” His voice wavers for a split second. “And I… I hated that she had to.”Giyuu finally looks at him then, something unreadable in his expression.
Sanemi’s jaw clenches. “I hated that I was too weak to do anything. That she had to suffer for us. And even after all that, after that bastard was gone, I still—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply, “—I still lost her anyway.”
The weight of it presses down on them.
Giyuu finally says, “I think she did it because she wanted to. Because she loved all of you.”
Sanemi scoffs. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t supposed to end like that.”
A pause.
Then Giyuu murmurs, “I thought the same thing.”
Sanemi glances at him, frowning slightly. “About what?”
Giyuu exhales softly, looking down at his hands. His voice is quiet, distant—a confession that barely has the strength to leave his lips. “About my sister.”
The air around them shifts.
Giyuu finds the courage to ask, “How did she–”
“She became a demon.”
Oh.
Giyuu didn’t need to ask more questions, it was easy to realize that she was probably the same demon that terrorized him and his siblings. He turned his head to look at Sanemi, as expected, there was that tinge of sadness coloring his irises that Giyuu is very familiar with.
“That wasn’t your fault.”
Sanemi knows.
And that’s the worst part, that he couldn’t do anything to change it at all. There were plenty of things in his life that he wished he could change, like his circumstance with Giyuu, but nothing can quite numb the pain of survivor’s guilt laced with the knowledge that you put your own loving mother out of misery.
For the first time, Sanemi realizes that even though Giyuu might act like a cold hearted nonchalant person—Giyuu carries the same weight. The same powerlessness, the same regret, the same ache that never really goes away. Sanemi doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. But when he looks back at the festival, the lights don’t seem as harsh anymore. The laughter doesn’t grate on him as much.
“I don’t want to be like him.”
Giyuu glanced at him one more time, the sadness that swirled in his face morphed into something more vulnerable and true. Another emotion Giyuu is familiar with.
“I know you won’t be.”
Their first year was more or less very experimental, they learned how to adjust to each other without communicating properly and that was enough for Sanemi.
But he also faced a dilemma concerning Giyuu.
He almost can't hold himself back from letting out a growl whenever Uzui or fucking Gyomei would get too close with Giyuu and have easy conversations with him. Giyuu wasn't exactly “his omega” but he still gets the urge to snap all the bones in their body if they're friendly with Giyuu.
Yeah Sanemi didn't exactly like Giyuu and the fucking distant attitude he puts up when it's not just the both of them. He really doesn't understand why Giyuu chooses to distance himself like that, did he think Sanemi and the others weren’t fit to stand with him or something? Was it because he thought so highly of himself? Sanemi doesn’t know.
However, he wasn't blind either, he knows that Giyuu is beautiful.
He embodies the image of a perfect omega with looks and figure alone, despite it all being hidden away under his uniform and haori. His image was enough to blow anyone away, if he wasn’t so stoic Sanemi thinks he’s almost a little too perfect.
The omegas' beauty was enough to captivate alphas, betas, and even omegas, Sanemi is way too aware of that fact from the words he overheard. Like he was way too aware of what other people said about the omega. Sure, all of the Hashiras get plenty of compliments from their looks but they could only hear hushed compliments directed towards the water hashira because they couldn’t really say it to him. He never really took a good look at Giyuu, why would he? He thought that his face wasn’t that spectacular anyway.
Unwillingly, he imagines a smiley Giyuu, his face painted with soft and free emotions, something like the one during the festival. Sanemi could only scoff at the thought and shake it away, why would he feel that way when Giyuu acts so differently with the others?
Sanemi did not like self-centered people who don't know how to be a team player and prefers to isolate themselves, especially when he can't read them due to the lack of facial expressions. Sanemi would never ever tell that to anyone ever though. Why is he even feeling this way? It's not like he cared right?
During their second meeting of the year, he figured it out for himself if Giyuu was actually attractive, sure he was an omega but that didn’t guarantee anything.
He looked in front of him subtly, it took him a few moments to analyze Giyuu’s face and that's when he almost jolted back in surprise. Giyuu had sharp but at the same time soft curves on his face, complimenting the siren-like shape of his eyes that look like they’re made for seduction and flattery.
He traces the line of his nose and feasts his eyes on Giyuu’s effortless pretty pink lips that are also shaped perfectly in a cupid’s bow. His eyes were another story, Sanemi might get lost in it if he stared too long, might just want to stay below the surfaces of his eyes because of how beautiful it was, might stay long enough until he couldn’t breath just to bask in its beauty.
He mentally shook his head. What was he even thinking? Out of everyone, Giyuu? Really?
Unwillingly, Sanemi starts comparing Giyuus features to other omegas that he happens to pass by during missions, and the people he’s been with, no one could seem to compare—they can’t even come close. Even the people in the entertainment district, no matter how delicate and charming they looked, didn't quite meet Sanemi’s tastes anymore. The scarier part is, his alpha valiantly agrees with him which he only does when Sanemi is fixated on something so intensely.
He doesn’t think about it too much. He figures that maybe it was just the mating bond talking though.
Before Giyuu could catch his eye, he looked away and tuned back into the matter being discussed–which was probably more important than his gawking.
And if he catches himself daydreaming and imagining the omegas scent late at night where his thoughts are engulfed by him and his sugar coated scent of peaches and summer, he indulges in that fantasy a little sometimes.
When he thinks that he’s finally got his fill, he acts like he never did it in the first place. He acts like Giyuu’s scent wasn’t the smell Sanemi wished his estate smelled like when he walked through the gate and the hallways.
He acts like imagining Giyuu’s scent isn’t something that grounds him during intense situations. He acts like he definitely does not want the omegas scent on him at all times. He acts like Giyuu’s floral and peach scent tinged with the perfect amount of sea doesn’t captivate him the moment they spent the omegas first heat as a mated pair.
Sanemi thinks it's just the first year mating things that's making him feel like this. Surely, it would go away over time. He thought that everyone who mated probably felt like this the first year too.
He did not dare ask anyone about the feelings starting to emerge from him ever since his mating with Giyuu. It was just that, a convenient mating. Nothing else was going to happen. Nothing more will happen. Especially this close to his rut. It’s probably just his untamed alpha in rut whispering nonsense in his mind–and heart.
Another memory he can’t quite shake is that one time they were still recovering from the mating bond.
He was walking down the hall to the kitchen when he caught a glimpse of Giyuu. More specifically, Giyuu getting his hair brushed by his attendants.
He had never seen Giyuu with his hair down before, so he stopped in his tracks. Pausing momentarily by the slightly ajar door. Giyuu was looking sideways away from the door which gave Sanemi the view of his long obsidian hair. Before he could linger any further he walked away—lest he get caught staring.
This memory was ingrained in his mind because there was that distinct feeling of wanting to reach out and touch Giyuu’s hair. To let it slide between his fingers—he imagines that they’d be perfect and soft, like every part of the omega.
He doesn’t even know how or why that memory lingered in his head. The alpha in him insists that he must touch the omega’s hair, that he must show his appreciation of how perfect our omega is —Sanemi internally groans in annoyance. He doesn’t understand why he even needs to do it at all and yet—
He can’t stop thinking about it.
Inevitably, Giyuu feels a little bit of jealousy too at times. Especially when Sanemi interacts with other omegas, he knows that some of them aren't flirting with him but he also knows that some of them are . And the way they flirted was just so–invasive! It was utterly ridiculous really, their suggestive touches, charming smiles, and offers, it just irritated Giyuu so much—
It goes something like this:
After the mission, while cleaning up and discussing their next move, a group of omegas gathered around Sanemi, making playful comments about how he’s the ‘dangerously attractive’ type of alpha they’d love to spend time with. He knows Sanemi’s the kind of person who won’t engage with flirtation, but it still bothers Giyuu that they keep teasing him, as if they expect a reaction.
And this:
Giyuu watches quietly as Sanemi gets caught in a conversation with one of the more enthusiastic omega who’s been praising his fighting skills all evening. At one point, they get bold and compliment Sanemi’s appearance, joking that he must be taken already by someone lucky.
Sanemi just chuckles awkwardly and doesn’t give any further response, but Giyuu sees how the omega still lingers around him, trying to catch his attention.
They laugh, and then the omega says with a wink, “I bet you’d be even more fun to be around if you let your guard down.” Sanemi doesn’t seem to catch the underlying meaning of the words and merely shrugs them off or he chooses not to acknowledge it. She goes as far as making a comment about how someone as strong as Sanemi must be hard to keep up with, but “they’re up for the challenge.” and that he was always welcome to “come visit her estate some time”
Giyuu stiffens, glancing at Sanemi who smiles faintly, not understanding the undercurrent of the comment.
He’s aware he has no claim to Sanemi, but something deep inside him flares with discomfort as he watches the omega linger just a little too close to Sanemi. He could feel the omega inside him snarling, like he’s preparing Giyuu to slash the woman with his nails.
But—
He reminds himself that he has no right to feel that way. Sanemi was only his mate because it was a necessity, he did not need to feel jealous over them, he had no right. It’s not like Sanemi was outwardly showing interest in them either which kind of healed Giyuu’s severely wounded pride as an omega.
Giyuu knew better–those omegas were looking for a good time and he didn’t like that. He knows they’re intentional with everything they do even if it looks like an accident. He wanted to pull their hair so they could get their filthy hands off his alpha. They were all so fucking annoying. His instincts tell him to mark what’s his so they could back off—but again, he doesn't have that right.
So he lets it go, doesn't see the point in being so worked up when they weren't even in an actual relationship. Sanemi could charm whoever he wanted, Giyuu acted like he didn't care, it was fine.
He wasn’t oblivious as to why they’re attracted to him either, Sanemi was an impressive alpha, though his brash attitude repelled other people often, one can’t deny his attractiveness. Sure, Giyuu didn’t really have a scale for how attractive people can be but based on what he hears about the wind hashira, it's all he needs to deduce that Sanemi is quite popular among people.
Sanemi was every bit the kind of alpha that commanded attention.
Not just because of his presence—though that alone was enough to make people tense, to make omegas avert their eyes, to make betas instinctively stand straighter. It wasn’t just the scars either, though they were impossible to ignore. They only added to the raw, untamed look of him, it served as a trophy to battles survived, proof of an alpha who had fought and won, again and again.
His strength wasn’t subtle. It was in the sharpness of his jaw, the corded muscles lining his arms, the way even the most casual of movements carried power enough to make Giyuu’s knees weak if Sanemi really tried. And then there was his scent but Giyuu liked his eyes the most (even though his scars take second place in his freak of a mind, he’s thinking about asking Sanemi about it at some point.) because he’s never seen anything quite like it before—just like his beautifully unkempt hair.
The crazed look he always had only seemed to deepen the lavender of his irises. Is it normal to think about someone’s eyes so deeply? Giyuu thought to himself.
Alphas were meant to lead, meant to be protectors, meant to be the unshakable force that others could rely on. Sanemi was an ideal alpha through and through.
And it was infuriating that Giyuu noticed any of this at all. Still, wanted to know more—he wanted to know if Sanemi truly checked all the boxes.
And he didn’t want to hear the things other omegas say about him .
Especially that one particular incident with that enthusiastic omega—The incident that made his blood run cold and boil aggressively. Giyuu wanted to forget how Sanemi’s face scrunched up in confusion and subtly looked over to Giyuu’s direction. Shit. He probably felt that flare of emotions twinging in their bond.
He looked away in a hurry and tried to calm himself before he made a fool out of himself in front of other people.
All of that mess happened literally months ago and he couldn’t erase it from his mind.
Sometimes, when his omega is really desperate for attention, Giyuu would secretly come over to the Wind Estate to steal some of Sanemi’s used shirts for his nest because whether he liked it or not, he longed for the alphas smell unfortunately.
They were more or less pieces of clothing Sanemi threw around or whatever, most of them were sleep wear since they wore their uniforms most of the time and he can’t quite steal those sadly.
When he gets back to his estate, he would rub the alpha’s scent on his glands and bite mark and cherish it until the alphas scent isn't there anymore.
He never really bothered making a nest before and he definitely has minimal skills in making one, he mostly tries to refresh everything Tsutako had taught him—but for whatever reason, this felt natural to him.
He doesn’t feel comfortable asking although it's expected from him. He was too…scared? To ask the alpha for stuff that will accommodate him in his nest because it's not like it's mandatory. And it seemed like a selfish reason instead of a necessity for both sides, even though his omega protested heavily with Giyuu’s decision.
Giyuu isn’t even half-aware of what he’s doing most times, purely acting out of instinct. He thinks that his yearning for the alpha’s scent is purely just biology and nothing more. He feels guilty in a good way when he manages to steal it from Sanemi without him knowing because he doesn’t have to face the consequences.
He doesn't go out in public with Sanemi’s scent though, he always makes sure to scrub it off until only his scent remains, always precise and careful with his movements. If the attendants notice, they never say anything. In fact he knows that when Sanemi asks if his shirts have lessened, the attendants only wave it off, making excuses of how “they must not have dried yet” or “we haven’t finished folding yet” really anything that could point away from Giyuu.
Giyuu knows that Sanemi trusts his attendants, and everytime, he takes their word for it, never once suspecting Giyuus hidden agendas.
One day though, they finally ask him the dreaded question when Giyuu returns the clothing he ‘borrowed’ to exchange them for fresher ones.
“Why don’t you just ask him, Tomioka-sama? We don’t think Shinazugawa-sama would mind, I mean you’re his mate after all. So you wouldn’t have to sneak around like this.”
Giyuu winced at his words. Well, yeah he could just do that but it was more exciting doing it this way. It’s totally not because he thinks he can’t handle rejection. Not at all. Giyuu just shrugs in reply, hoping that the other man wouldn’t press more questions.
Giyuu knows he meant well, he’s probably just tired of fixing up the trampled bushes the omega always trips into for absolutely no reason at all. He swears he apologies every time to the caretaker but he can never keep the promise to not trip into it again.
That makes him think about how he hasn’t seen Sanemi in rut before. Like sure they spent their cycles together throughout the year but he hasn't really seen the alpha in pure rut without his heat fogging his mind. All that occupied his mind was how good it all felt. He could feel his face warm up suddenly. `
His thoughts came to life when he received a letter from the Wind Estate, not in Sanemi’s handwriting. His crow seemed to be extra on edge when he landed on Giyuu’s arm, twitching wildly as he dropped the slip of paper to his waiting hand.
He read the small contents on it and headed straight to the Wind Estate.
When Giyuu arrived, Sanemi was in the middle of his raging rut, the attendants pleaded with Giyuu because their master was going feral. His estate smelled so strong of an alpha in a clear rut, stinking up every crevice, the air thick with the musk of an alpha in rut. The scent was overpowering, a primal call that sent a shiver down his spine.
Giyuu walked into his chambers, the shoji slid open to reveal a scene of chaos. Furniture lay in splinters, walls were clawed, and the scent of Sanemi's arousal was enough to blow Giyuu away.
Sanemi looked at him with an even more intense crazed look that he usually had.
Sanemi, his white hair disheveled and purple eyes wild, turned to Giyuu with a growl that sent a thrill through the omega. He knew what was coming, and despite his preserved nature, he felt a rush of excitement. He wanted to remember the rough treatment, he wanted to remember how he got bruises and bite marks all over him, the primal need that an alpha in rut had for his omega. But he would never admit that to Sanemi. Or to himself.
The alpha’s glowing eyes locked onto Giyuu, and for a moment, he seemed to lose all control and unleash his rage. He lunged forward, a snarl on his lips, but stopped just short of Giyuu, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, likely recognizing his omega.
"Mine," he growled, the word a possessive claim.
Giyuu felt a thrilling shiver of anticipation run down his spine as Sanemi's hands gripped his shoulders, turning him around and pressing his cheek against the cool wood of the wall. He could feel Sanemi's hard dick pressing against his ass, the heat of it searing through his clothes. He felt a gush of slick escape him, slicking enough that he could dampen his pants, his body responding to Sanemi's lust.
Sanemi's hands were rough as they shoved down the collar of Giyuu's uniform, exposing his pale skin and throbbing glands. He inhaled deeply at the nape of Giyuu's neck, his breath hot and heavy. "Mine, mine, mine,” he repeated while he licked and sucked at the omega’s neck, voice an even lower growl.
Giyuu's breath hitched as Sanemi's hands roamed his body, tracing the curves of his figure before grabbing handfuls of his ass and parting them through his pants.
Giyuu’s jaw dropped in pleasure, he let out a soft gasp as he felt Sanemi's dick, hard and insistent, trying to fuck him through both of their clothing. He bit his lip to stifle a moan. He definitely should have done more mental preparing for this, he feels like he might just sink to the floor.
He could feel the slickness coating his thighs, his body ready and willing for Sanemi's dick. It was so uncharacteristic of him to slick up unusually fast like this—until he reminds himself that he’s in the presence of an alpha in rut.
He could hear the rustle of fabric as Sanemi quickly undid his pants, the sound of his uniform dropping to the ground.
Suddenly, all he could feel was the head of Sanemi's dick, hot and hard, pressing against his sopping entrance. When did his pants even come off? Giyuu’s eyes widened in shock and he jolted away from the wall to hastily grab Sanemi’s wrists on either side of his hips, “S-Shinazugawa!” Isn’t this a little to fast or–
“Be good for me, omega.” It was nowhere near the sound of a growl but Giyuu still couldn’t help but nod his head at the alpha because—Well. He does want to be good for him. What was he even worried about?
Sanemi's hands gripped his hips tighter, holding him in place as he pushed into him, leaving no room for the omega to adjust. Giyuu gasped, the sensation of being filled so completely overwhelming. He could finally feel every inch of Sanemi's dick, the veins, the ridges, the way it pulsed inside him. Sanemi's fingers digging into his flesh as he began to move in a pace that made Giyuu hear the fast squelching sounds of his soaking pussy taking Sanemi in.
The rhythm was rough and demanding, each thrust pushing Giyuu against the wall harder, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the room. He didn't even remember feeling pain from the first push of Sanemi's dick into him.
He could only feel the pleasure building up, the sensation of being filled over taking his mind overwhelmingly. It didn’t matter that his face was getting smashed on the wall because all he could care about was the alpha’s throbbing dick inside him.
Sanemi’s grip on his hips loosened only because he yanked off the rest of Giyuu’s clothes to join with his own discarded ones on the floor. It was a tangle of clothing for a moment and Giyuu is pretty sure that he popped a few buttons and ripped some of the seams. The gruff sounds the alpha made only heightened Giyuu’s desire for him, especially because it was directed at him .
The alpha grabbed a fistful of hair and used it to yank Giyuu’s upper body to line up with his chest to continue his licking and biting on the omega’s neck. Giyuu loudly gasped, Sanemi never done that before. The alpha doesn't seem to realize it because his mouth never stopped from making sure it was thoroughly covered in the alpha’s scent.
Giyuu felt drunk from it, there was another feeling that told him how he should smell like his alpha all the time.
“You smell so fucking good.”
The stimulation he felt from Sanemi’s tongue on his glands was so good that he’s sure his eyes rolled to the back of his head. It didn't even matter to him that his scalp was burning a little from Sanemi’s grip on his hair. It didn’t matter, not when the alpha’s dick was hitting him in all the right places.
It dawned on him that this was the first time he was conscious enough to feel everything Sanemi had to give and he was missing out big time. No wonder he couldn’t remember, he probably got caught up on the pleasure so much, just like how he is now.
He could feel the slickness coating his thighs, his body not struggling to accommodate his alpha, like he was waiting for it.
He could hear Sanemi's own feral groans, the sound of his breath, the way he said "mine" over and over again. Giyuu found himself responding to it, his inner omega supplying him thoughts about how much their mate wants them. His body arched back against Sanemi's, his hand found its way to the back of the alpha’s head, gripping his hair for support.
Sanemi's thrusts became more erratic and so did the pitch of Giyuu’s moans as he felt Sanemi’s inflating knot taking form at the base of his dick. But all the alpha could focus on was chasing his release—never slowing down as his knot slipped in and out of Giyuu’s cunt, each thrust made Giyuu feel the increasing size of it.
“So good for me, omega. Taking me so well.”
He could feel his omega melt at the praise.
Giyuu could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed, becoming pliant from taking everything all at once in minimal time—and all he could say was it just felt so good.
He was spiraling so much in pleasure that he wasn’t even coherent anymore, his mouth settled on eliciting breathy sighs and high pitched moans in tandem with Sanemi’s.
Beads of sweat were now dripping down his forehead, mixing in with his drool and tears.
Sanemi wasn’t a typical heartless alpha in bed, sure he was quite intense but you could tell that he still had decency. Usually.
Now? Giyuu doesn’t know where all that went. He doesn’t need to know anyway. Not when the heat of Sanemi’s come coated his inner walls and his own orgasm washed over him —and even then, the alpha didn’t stop thrusting.
Giyuu was on the brink of overstimulation but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back, he even pushed himself down on the alpha’s dick. The best he can with his knot plugging him up and trapping all those fluids right in him, where it should be.
Giyuu would’ve taken the chance to run away if Sanemi ended up being abusive and controlling, and would probably go as far as complaining relentlessly to Oyakata-sama.
Not that he thought he’d be that way, with today's day and age and him being an omega, caution was important. Sanemi left loads of marks and bruises on every part of Giyuu's body but hey, at least Giyuu didn’t get them through injury and he didn't have to complain to Oyakata-sama.
Sanemi let go of his hair and his head instantly collided with the wall again. Drool was drooping from his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted by it because he was too busy basking in the afterglow and catching his breath.
Not even a few minutes passed when Sanemi started to get impatient. Giyuu found himself sprawled on the floor while Sanemi plowed into him, the smacking of their hips the dominating sound bouncing around the room. This time, his thighs were the object of Sanemi's affection and full attention.
Then Giyuu was on his back against the wall again, Sanemi’s hands were placed under his knees where the alpha was set in a brutal pace enough to meld Giyuu into the wall. He did it all while paying so much attention to his neck again . Giyuu was sure that he looked like an absolute wreck right now and they were just getting started.
At some point, his mouth was full from two of Sanemi's fingers. Two of the alpha’s fingers were enough to stretch out his mouth and occupy every space. The digits in his mouth moved in sync with Sanemi's thrust. Giyuu could only whimper in delight. His throat was raspy from all his screaming and moaning but it didn't matter to him.
Sanemi even spit at his wet cunt at some point, as if his slick wasn’t enough to glide in and out easily. Giyuu thinks that it was probably just some alpha thing to stake their claim or whatever.
Eventually, he convinced Sanemi to drag them to his futon where they could be more comfortable because Giyuu’s back was getting sore from being repeatedly rubbed against the rough surfaces. Sanemi was just as hard and rough as he had been the previous rounds. Sanemi became just as incoherent as him but he still managed to praise the omega, communicating things like how he “felt so fucking tight” and about how he was “made just for me” ang being a “perfect omega”
Giyuu preened at the compliments every single time. Gosh, he’s never even sought validation before. How was this any different?
It’s not like Giyuu was new to seeing an alpha in rut and the crazy amount of sex they’d have but this? Sanemi was something else. Maybe because his stamina is that of a hashira and not just an alpha?
When Giyuu thought that Sanemi was finally taking a break, that was when the alpha would decide to manhandle Giyuu into another position, this time bent over, another orgasm, equally thrusting into his tight hole with the same eagerness he had…like…3 hours ago? 5 hours ago?
And when Giyuu thought it was finally safe to assume that Sanemi was passed out because it had been a while since he moved and his breathing became even. He pulled out Sanemi’s cock out of his hole, he crawled to the side a little bit to grab whatever clothing his hand manages to reach and stuck it between his legs because it was gross to just let it drip out of him.
Especially because the Wind Estate attendants were probably the people who would clean up their mess and that would just be embarrassing.
He thinks about bringing in the basket of food and water and whatever supplies that were left at the front of the door that Giyuu couldn’t bring in because he was rather abruptly shoved to the wall. Since he was here to accompany and take care of his mate rather than whatever fantasies Giyuu has been having coming to life.
He tries his best to walk towards the door with wobbly legs and a cloth stuck between his thighs, it didn’t feel the best but it did the job.
He managed to cross the room halfway before the sound of fast and heavy footsteps behind him stopped him from waddling towards the door.
Before he knew it, Sanemi was carrying him over his shoulder. Giyuu yelped in surprise, he expected a protest but he didn’t expect this. “Oh my gosh! Shinazugawa! Put me down!”
Sanemi just growled at him then he yanked him back to the futon. Giyuu tried to crawl away to just get the supplies, Sanemi’s hands were trying to grab him and stop him from crawling away. “I’ll be back okay? I just need to grab the–”
The omega couldn’t even finish his sentence because he felt strong hands wrapping around either sides of his hips, pushing him back into the futon and lifting him up then Sanemi immediately impaled Giyuu on his dick again. The invasion wasn’t unwelcome but it only meant that it was going to take a while before he could move away from the alpha or if he could even move without Sanemi’s dick in him.
Giyuu doesn’t even know anymore. Just that Sanemi's hand was pressing against his shoulder to keep him from getting up from the flat surface of a nearby table where he was getting fucked from behind. Giyuu was basically bloated with the alpha's spend but he didn't stop and Giyuu liked that he never faltered in his pace.
He tries his best to match Sanemi’s pace but when he thinks he finally caught his rhythm, Sanemi catches him off guard again. So he doesn’t. All he does is take and take anything that Sanemi will give.
And he’ll take as much as he can take because it seems like he can’t get enough of everything that Sanemi can give.
By the end of his rut, after 3 days of continuous sex and the occasional coaxing from Giyuu to take a break and eat or drink and whatever he needed which the alpha in rut thought was obviously stupid.
Sanemi awoke in cold sweat.
He abruptly detached his back from the futon–which was a bad idea because Giyuu was laying on top of him and somehow, they were still connected. His body was sore in a way that could only come from finishing a good rut. His hands fly to steady Giyuu so he won’t topple over the sheets. The omega let out a brief noise of confusion and surprise but his composure remained still. Sanemi muttered an apology.
Sanemi knew that Giyuu arrived at some point at the start of his rut, truthfully, he was a little…scared? To spend his cycle with Giyuu since—he’s quite the aggressive person during it. And he didn’t want to hurt Giyuu pr something. A little afraid of what his alpha might do to Giyuu.
See, he trusts himself but his alpha? He was fucking wild and feral, every bit of primal as it can get. It scares him sometimes because it resembles his father. Sanemi knows that he’s not like him but it’s so hard to remove himself from that narrative when his alpha takes over. So he didn’t reach out for the omega. He decided that it was probably best to spend it alone.
Like everything about his life, it didn’t exactly go like how he planned it. Sanemi didn’t consider his attendants informing Giyuu about him, it’s the most logical reason as to why Giyuu was even here , with him, right now.
Instinctively, Giyuu let out calming pheromones because he detected Sanemi’s anxious one’s, never getting up from leaning on his chest. Giyuu was too sleepy to realize what was happening but he muttered a whisper of, “Are you okay?”
Sanemi was still panting heavily and rendered speechless, his grip on Giyuu’s waist only tightened as the dreams in his head seemed to appear right in front of him in mists of clouds. He knows that his face is pale and blown wide with shock but he didn’t feel like he could do or say anything.
“Shinazugawa?” The alpha couldn’t focus, Giyuu’s voice echoed into the void of his endless mind without really understanding the words he was saying.
Giyuu finally looks at him, his concern evident by the furrow of his eyebrows, he whispers another soft call of his name. He could feel the omega cradling his face and touching his neck as if to ground him back to reality—and it was working because the loud beating of his heart slowly decreased in volume from his ears. Giyuu started caressing his face in gentle circles and rubbed his wrists directly on Sanemi’s scent glands as if to comfort him.
His head fell into the crook of Giyuu’s neck and inhaled. There it was again—that distinct scent that could only come from Giyuu though his scent dominated over it right now. He noticed that it was covered in purple bruises and marks that replicated the shape of his mouth and teeth.
Giyuu fully embraces his frame because of the easier way the omega could wrap his hands around him. He could probably sense what Sanemi couldn’t say.
Sanemi hugged him back, finally loosening the grip he had on Giyuu’s waist. He doesn’t think about how intimate this feels even for them—it was nothing like they’d ever done before.
“Bad dream?” Sanemi only nods—Giyuu doesn’t say anything more, understanding that maybe what the alpha needed right now was just his presence. Giyuu shifts a little after a while of staying like that, he doesn’t ask for him to elaborate, Sanemi guesses that their bond did the talking for them.
Then suddenly a hand travelled from his neck to the back of his head and he was softly scratching at Sanemi’s scalp and he couldn’t help but lean into it, it was like Giyuu knew exactly what could make him feel better.
Once Sanemi regains semi-consciousness he realizes that he’s not really in rut anymore. And fuck—they were both still very much naked and knotted together which means it hasn’t been that long since they fell asleep.
“Sorry.”
Giyuu jolted a little at the sound of his voice, which was entirely valid because his voice sounded so hoarse that he couldn’t even recognize it.
“Don’t be. It happens.”
They stayed like that for a while until Sanemi grew a little uncomfortable with the crouching position they had so he moved them slowly and softly so as to not inflict pain on Giyuu again.
After a few quick shuffling they were both laying down on the futon, Sanemi and Giyuu were face to face and Sanemi wanted it to be that way.
It reminds him of the night at the festival just months ago but it felt like yesterday where Sanemi resisted thoughts that resembled something along the lines of beautiful upon seeing Giyuu's face—especially when the sky was painted with glimmering fireworks that were reflected by the omega’s eyes.
Sanemi never bothered to stare and admire fireworks because really why the fuck would he care about exploding lights that added to air pollution?
But through Giyuu’s eyes? Let’s just say that he had to force himself to look away. And the sound of his giggles when he twirled him around? Sanemi would gladly strain his arm just to twirl Giyuu around over and over again just to keep hearing that sound.
Giyuu lifted an eyebrow in suspicion, likely assuming that he was still very much under the influence of his raging rut, because they had never slept face to face before.
He scooted closer—as close as he can be without fucking the knot deeper—and grabbed Giyuu’s bare thigh (also covered in bruises) to settle over top of his own so that they can tangle their legs together.
Without a word, he grabbed Giyuu's hand and urged him to return to scratching his head.
Giyuu huffed a sleepy laugh, Sanemi thought it sounded cute.
Nevertheless, the omega did come closer and caressed Sanemi’s head right where he needed it, he settled his arm over Giyuu’s hip to keep him close. He doesn’t want to overthink anything that he just did, he’ll just blame it on his irrational alpha instincts anyway.
All he could feel as his breathing evened out and his sleepiness was getting to him was Giyuu’s soft touches on his head.
Notes:
I think that 18 Giyuu and Sanemi are more teenager-y and you know, kinda like the stereotypical sweet fluffy puppy love or something like that hence the festival. If you know what I mean. Their 21 year-old selves are a different story.
Anyway, drop a comment for me, a kudos, anything at all! I appreciate you guys and all that waiting you did:))!
Chapter 4: something so right
Summary:
Giyuu blinked, his brain scrambling to process what was happening. For a split second, he thought Sanemi might actually hit him.
But then, before he could respond, Sanemi closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Giyuu’s in a fierce, heated kiss.
Oh my gosh.
He was going to faint.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Giyuu and Sanemi | Age 19
The second year of their mated life, it was the first time Giyuu and Sanemi ever kissed.
They never kissed at all whenever they had heats and ruts together, nor subtle brushes of lips, Sanemi strictly kept his mouth below the omegas neck.
He never had to even try and keep it below the face, it was only natural that he chased for…a scent he is bonded to. And besides, he didn't need to say it outloud, nor did Giyuu. They subconsciously established that kissing was for people who were in love and had a romantic relationship.
People who didn't have to be held in close proximity or there would be dire consequences, people who simply existed in the moment with their eternal partner. People who didn't mate out of necessity because of some stupid demon.
No, kissing was for people who trust each other enough that they could share such an intimate moment without it being sexual in any way. As if it was some divine offering to their lover to show their devotion, to show their love .
Just because they were mates doesn't mean they need to do it.
However, on one unsuspecting day. That initial thought of kissing were for romance was changed when Sanemi overheard some Kakushi talking about their kisses with their mates. They had been talking about their own mates, sharing stories about their first kisses.
They said that they didn't believe the folk tale about bonds between omegas and alphas, they thought that it was an absolutely a fluke (though one of them also pointed out that the person speaking was a beta so he wouldn’t know anyway) , “I believe in mating bonds being beyond our understanding but come on, the tale seemed like it was leaning away from the usual fantasy.”
“I never believed in all that mate-bond folk tale nonsense,” one of them scoffed.
“Thought it was just another way to make us think we’re tied to someone by fate.”
Sanemi had almost tuned them out.
Until someone else spoke—
“Yeah, but you can’t deny what kissing your mate feels like. It’s…” The Kakushi trailed off, struggling for words.
“It’s like—like everything makes sense.”
Sanemi stilled in his movement.
“Like everything is just… right.”
“Like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
And the others—who had once laughed at the tales of bonds beyond human understanding—all nodded in agreement because of their experiences with their own mates.
Sanemi didn’t even realize how deeply those words had sunk into him until later.
He could not stop thinking about it, could not stop thinking about whether what he heard was real or not, could not stop thinking about the feel of Giyuus lips.
He briefly wondered if it would really make you feel complete. Maybe kissing Giyuu would fill the never ending void that has followed him everywhere since he lost his family. Maybe kissing Giyuu would finally convince him to believe that he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be and that he could finally give him the courage to face the past he so desperately wants to forget because he had someone that completed him.
If you were to ask him if he pictured Giyuu's face and predicted what it would feel like to actually kiss him without sexual intent, simply because he wanted to and because it felt right .
Because it felt like something he should do, something that they should have been doing, during his time traveling to his assigned mission?
He'll probably throw himself to the nearest cliff. He resists daydreaming about him further though, that would just open a can of worms and he doesn't think he's ready for that for the creepy crawling feeling of the many ways he’ll be able to handle that situation.
However, that unspoken promise was broken one day during Giyuu’s heat.
And really can you blame him? He’s only nineteen, a curious nineteen year old who wanted to know if the Kakushi were right or if it really was just some folktale bullshit.
It didn’t help that Sanemi was unusually enchanted by Giyuus scent, there was just something so very alluring about Giyuu that day. Not just his scent. Or the lingering memory of the Kakushis conversation. Or his luscious obsidian hair. Or his beautiful ocean blue eyes that glimmered under the sun like sapphires, never going back to that dull grey Sanemi thought the omega had.
Or the perfect slopes of his neck and body. Or the lewd noises that escape his mouth no matter how much Giyuu would try to keep it shut, desperately holding back the noises of how Sanemi makes him feel good . Sanemi almost reached out to grab his arm just so he could hear those wonderful moans more clearly.
But that was probably for the best because he would have probably finished faster than a newly presented alpha.
He wasn’t sure if it was the pheromones or his own spiraling thoughts, but something about the way Giyuu looked that day—flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips, and the faint glisten of sweat on his forehead—had him frozen. His instincts screamed at him to get closer, to touch, to claim in ways he’d never dared to consider before.
That day, Giyuu was singing his most seductive siren song without even opening his mouth, without even doing anything at all, not even intentionally batting his eyelashes or flicking his hair.
Sanemi was more than just drawn in. He was responding to Giyuu's siren song. He wanted to respond, he wanted to give in to that hallucination and let himself be drawn into his trap.
He couldn’t stop himself from letting his inner alpha make the decision for him, he leaned forward, more specifically his alpha urged him to kiss Tomioka fucking Giyuu .
Sanemi clenched his fists, trying to rein himself in, but when Giyuu turned to look at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, something inside him snapped. Before he could think twice about it he was already leaning into Giyuu's tightly pressed lips.
The omega gasped at the feel of Sanemi's lips, eye's flying open from the haziness of his heat. He stilled for a moment before giving in and responding to every tug and push Sanemi throws his way. The first contact of the slides of their tongue was enough to make Sanemi’s eyes roll to the back of his skull.
It felt so fucking good, so much fucking better than whatever the Kakushi said. This—this feeling was divine . It was something that was slowly making him lose his sanity.
Sanemi traced, licked, and made sure to claim every part of Giyuu’s mouth.
The omega’s arms were slowly detaching from the alpha’s nail scratched back and his fingers found its way to the back of Sanemi’s head where he lightly gripped his hair.
Sanemi stopped thrusting into him, the bruising grip he had on Giyuu's hips were now loosened, the hand motion turned into something more like a caress, one hand was gently running up and down his waist to his hips. The other hand was roaming the expanse of the omega's thighs and legs.
The room sounded like the smacking of wet mouths and low pleasured moans, Sanemi wasn't sure if it was him or Giyuu making those sounds, maybe both of them.
“S-Shinazugawa–”
Giyuu's moans were Sanemi's new favourite sound, even better if it's his name that the omega utters.
“Sanemi.”
“What?”
“Call me Sanemi.”
Giyuu's eyes widened for only a moment before the most beautiful verbalization of his name echoed in the space between them.
“Sanemi.” The way his name rolled off Giyuu's tongue was so different from the many ways people have said his given name. It felt and sounded so soft and just—perfect. Like Giyuu should be the only one allowed to say it because he's the only one who could say it the way Sanemi liked it.
They only part for a moment before they dive into each other again, this time more slow and sirupy, like the drags of their tongue and the feel of the other’s lips meant something more. It was just as hungry and searing as before but it had a tinge of softness that could only come from genuinely liking what they were doing.
After realizing what they did, they immediately pulled away and jumped away from each other.
Which—they couldn't do because they were stuck together.
Giyuu yelped and that made Sanemi realize he had knotted the omega, just from kissing him!
Giyuu's face momentarily contorted in pain from them abruptly pulling away from each other but it was quickly replaced by drowsiness as his back collided with the futon, he breathed rapidly, clearly trying to catch his breath. His chin was glistening with a mixture of both of their salivas.
Should Sanemi apologize for kissing him? But Giyuu responded…or he was probably still heat induced, just getting carried away. Sanemi doesn't know why that stings him a little.
But they couldn't just unring the bell that signaled another step in their relationship either, so Sanemi threw away his rational brain for a moment and reached for the omega’s mouth again, and Giyuu gasped once more, equally kissing back with vigour.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about how the Kakushi were underestimating this, it did feel good, it did feel like something he didn't know he wanted until he got a taste of it, he couldn't stop.
He doesn't think about how good of a kisser Giyuu actually is, an implication that means he's had experience kissing other people…he growled at that thought but quickly dismissed it.
At the end of Giyuu’s heat cycle, he apologized for not asking Giyuu if he could kiss him first. Right when he was about to go on a ramble about how he knows they’ve already established consent but—Giyuu just raised an eyebrow at him and said that he didn’t need to apologize and that he wasn’t mad or anything because he liked it anyway.
Sanemi…didn’t exactly know how to feel about that answer. He’s glad that he didn’t violate Giyuu’s autonomy but then again—that can of worms that he wanted to contain has exploded and it turned out to be a lot easier to handle.
“Sanemi?” There goes that familiar string of words from his favorite voice box again.
He turned to the sound of the voice. Giyuu was lying down on his side while watching Sanemi prepare their late dinner. Sanemi didn't linger his gaze too much. He was afraid that he couldn't look away and they'd have to postpone their dinner again .
“Yeah, baby?”
Giyuu blinked at the alpha, a blink that seemed like it happened in slow motion, like he was contemplating really hard about it. “You can…call me Giyuu.”
Sanemi froze up. It was one thing that he gave Giyuu permission to call him by his given name but it was entirely different when an omega allows an alpha to call them by their given name.
“Don’t want me calling you baby anymore?”
Giyuu startled immediately, his whole body jerking up slightly from his previously lazy position, his face already turning pink.
“N-No! T-That’s not what I meant—It’s just you know—!”
Sanemi’s smirk widened, thoroughly enjoying this. Ever since he had figured out that teasing Giyuu was far too easy, he had taken full advantage of it. Especially when it came to things that made Giyuu flustered. Things that made his neck flush, his voice go a pitch higher—
Things that Sanemi did that he knew Giyuu liked but would never admit to.
Like calling him baby .
Sanemi laughed outright at the genuinely mortified expression Giyuu was making, setting down the bowl or onigiri he was setting on the table as he turned toward him fully.
Slow, easy steps. His amused grin never fading, his overconfident alpha was essentially rolling off him in waves.
Giyuu, still flustered, opened his mouth to say something—probably some half-assed defense—but before he could, he abruptly turned his back to him with a huff.
“You’re so mean,” he mumbled. Sanemi’s grin only grew.
“Aw, don’t be like that, baby,” he drawled, his voice dipping slightly as he crouched beside the futon. Giyuu made no move to face him. Sanemi hummed thoughtfully before trying again, leaning in just a little closer.
“Come on, I’m sorry, turn around for me.”
Still, no response. Sanemi sighed dramatically.
“Please?” he tried, voice softer this time. “I said I’m sorry.”
That did it.
Slowly, Giyuu shifted, rolling onto his back, then finally turning to face him again.
Sanemi let himself look this time.
Really look.
The soft glow of the lamp above them made the omega’s face seem warmer, his already flushed cheeks looking even pinker than before. His lips were parted slightly, his dark blue eyes holding a mix of hesitation and something unspoken.
Something Sanemi wanted to understand but knew neither of them were ready to address.
So instead—
He reached out, fingers grazing against Giyuu’s face, gently tucking away a few stray strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes and stuck to his forehead from their...sexual activities earlier.
He felt Giyuu still beneath his touch, felt the way his breathing hitched slightly.
And then, just as easily—
He pressed a kiss to his forehead. Sanemi pulled back only enough to look him in the eyes, his smirk softening into something unreadable.
“Okay, Giyuu.”
And just like that—
Giyuu’s face lit up, a small smile threatening to color his face.The alpha swears the room smelling like a pleased omega doubled in strength when he said Giyuu's name.
Dinner was thankfully not just awkward silence. It didn't matter in the end because Giyuu relocated to Sanemi's lap because he wanted to make out again.
What was he supposed to say? No? There was no fucking way he was going to let this opportunity pass when he has a lapful of his omega in heat.
What was the worst that could happen if they continued to kiss all throughout Giyuu’s cycle? It's just a kiss, it's not that deep.
Or so he thought.
The bigger deal is,
It had been six months since Sanemi had last laid eyes on Giyuu.
Six months since their first kiss (making out?) . Six months of his alpha gnawing at him because they couldn't see their omega. Six months since they could call each other by their given names.
Not that he cared. Not one bit. He was just… Well, he just wanted to know if he was doing…good. Yeah, that was it. Maybe the demons have been troubling…for him lately.
Not because he missed him or anything. Absolutely not.
But that kiss.
It literally took his breath away. He's kissed a lot of people before and most of them were good experiences and moments but it couldn't quite come close to the electricity that came with kissing Giyuu.
There had been numerous sightings of aggressive demons ever since that— kid with the demon sister came into the picture. Sanemi wasn't mad about that, in fact, it made their job easier that demons were getting bolder and less stealthy.
The demon's flawed actions allowed for easier beheadings. Sanemi feels that the end of those creatures are coming far closer than he anticipated.
As he trudged toward Oyakata-sama’s estate, Sanemi’s mind wandered back to their last meeting. The memory was hazy, but the awkwardness between them wasn’t.
Their conversations—or rather, lack thereof—always left a bitter taste in his mouth, though he could never pinpoint exactly why.
He shoved the thought away as he reached the estate, sliding open the shoji door with his usual bluntness. But the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.
Sitting neatly on the mat, the glowing star of Sanemi’s thoughts just moments ago, was Giyuu Tomioka.
The omega sat with his usual quiet demeanor, his hands resting in his lap, gaze fixed on something indiscernible. Unwillingly, Sanemi felt his heart jolt, picking up a faster rhythm.
He schooled his features, refusing to let anything show. Instead, he said a polite greeting to Ubuyashiki, who smiled warmly in return. “Ah, Shinazugawa. Thank you for coming.”
Sanemi nodded sharply and took a seat across from Giyuu, deliberately avoiding eye contact. The air between them was thick with everything that happened during Giyuu’s last cycle, but neither of them acknowledged it. Ubuyashiki began explaining the mission—a demon sighted in the entertainment district. Normally, Uzui would handle cases like this, but he was unavailable, so the task had fallen to Sanemi. And, apparently, Giyuu.
As Ubuyashiki spoke, Sanemi stole a glance at Giyuu. The water hashira looked the same as ever—calm, distant, and infuriatingly unreadable but beautiful. Sanemi’s jaw tightened.
“Do you have any questions?” Kagaya’s gentle voice pulled him back to the present.
Sanemi shook his head. “No, Oyakata-sama.” Giyuu murmured a soft “No” as well, his voice so quiet that Sanemi almost missed it.
“Very well,” Kagaya said, his serene expression unchanging. “I trust you two will work well together.”
Sanemi almost snorted at that. Work well together? Sure. If silence and barely-contained awkwardness counted as teamwork.
Once the meeting concluded, they left the estate in silence, heading toward the entertainment district. The journey was just so awkward, to say the least. Neither of them spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.
Sanemi cast occasional glances at Giyuu, but the omega seemed entirely unbothered, his gaze fixed ahead. That calm, detached expression annoyed Sanemi more than he cared to admit.
The tension between them was palpable, but neither of them made an effort to break it. By the time they reached the district, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the streets in a warm, golden glow. The sounds of music and laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the heaviness between them.
“Let’s get this over with,” Sanemi muttered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
Giyuu nodded silently, his gaze scanning their surroundings.
As they began their patrol, Sanemi couldn’t help but steal another glance at Giyuu. He didn’t understand why his presence affected him so much, but he resolved to ignore it. They had a job to do, and that was all that mattered.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
The decision for Giyuu and Sanemi to handle the mission had been clear, though neither of them was particularly thrilled about it. After meeting with Oyakata-sama and understanding the importance of their bond in concealing their presence, they devised a plan.
It wasn’t a straightforward fight; it couldn’t be. Facing one of the Twelve Kizuki meant they needed to minimize risk and maximize precision. The strategy revolved around stealth, provocation, and striking the demon down in its moment of confusion.
To ensure success, it was necessary to amplify the blending of their scents—something that neither of them was entirely comfortable with.
The day before the mission, they stood in Giyuu’s estate, surrounded by the quiet hum of nature outside. Sanemi crossed his arms, glaring at the floor as if it was the one responsible for their predicament.
“So,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “How the hell do we even do this?”
Giyuu glanced at him and shrugged, his expression unreadable as always. “We… just scent each other. Like usual.”
Sanemi let out a tiny scoff. “What do you mean ‘like usual’? We don’t even—” He cut himself off, realizing that arguing wouldn’t help. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Didn’t you scent me before?”
“Yeah—But I was improvising, I don’t really know how this shit is supposed to happen.”
“...Me neither.”
“Just—come here already.”
The water hashira nodded and stepped closer. Sanemi stiffened, his body tensing as Giyuu’s hand hovered near his shoulder. He could already feel the faint warmth radiating from Giyuu’s skin, and he cursed inwardly at how self-conscious it made him.
Giyuu leaned in, his scent stronger than usual—the same potent summer smell tinged with ripened peaches. Sanemi found it annoyingly distracting, making him spiral even more about their whole—whatever they had.
The process was methodical but awkward, neither of them speaking as they worked. Giyuu pressed his scent glands gently against Sanemi’s neck, collarbone, and shoulders, lingering just long enough to transfer his scent without making it overly intimate.
Sanemi’s turn was no better. His touch was rougher, but he tried to be as quick and efficient as possible. His scent—crisp and earthy, with a wild undertone—mingled with Giyuu’s, creating a combination that was distinctly theirs. By the end of it, their scents were so intertwined that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
Sanemi stepped back, his face slightly flushed. “There.”
Giyuu gave a quiet nod, but his ears were tinged pink.
They parted ways shortly after, neither acknowledging the strange flutter in their chests.
The next day, as they set out to execute their plan, the mingled scents clung to them like a second skin. Their unique bond filled the air around them, masking the distinct pheromones of demon slayers and creating an almost seamless disguise.
But Sanemi was finding it harder to focus than he’d anticipated. The scent was overwhelming, sharp and intoxicating in a way he hadn’t expected. His head felt hazy, and his thoughts were slower than usual.
He shook his head as if that would clear the fog.
Giyuu glanced at him but didn’t say anything. He could sense the tension in the air but assumed it was just Sanemi being his usual irritable self.
Sanemi took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He knew that if he let his emotions get the better of him, the mission would fall apart. And there was no room for error—not with the stakes this high.
“Let’s move,” Sanemi said, his voice steadier now.
They made their way to the entertainment district, their plan unfolding with precision. The goal was simple: provoke the demon, draw it into a trap, and strike it down before it could react. But simple didn’t mean easy, and the tension between them only added to the challenge.
Despite the awkwardness and the lingering haze in Sanemi’s mind, they worked together seamlessly. Every step, every move was calculated, their bond serving as both a shield and a weapon. For all his stubbornness, Sanemi had to admit—at least to himself—that Giyuu’s calm presence made it easier to keep his temper in check.
As they approached the heart of the district, Sanemi glanced at Giyuu out of the corner of his eye. Their scents were still mingled, a constant reminder of their connection. And though he’d never admit it out loud, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“Ready?” Giyuu asked, his voice low and steady.
Sanemi nodded, gripping his sword tightly. “Let’s end this.”
The fight against the demon had been brutal. The sneaky Kizuki was fast, unpredictable, and relentless, forcing both Sanemi and Giyuu to push themselves to the limit. Sanemi could feel his temper bubbling dangerously close to the surface as the demon’s taunts and evasion tactics grated on his nerves. But he kept himself in check—barely. He knew that if he lost control, they’d lose their chance to take the demon down.
Finally, Giyuu found an opening. With a swift, precise strike, he severed the demon’s head cleanly. The creature’s body disintegrated into ash, its curses fading into silence. Both slayers stood there, panting heavily, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins.
Sanemi leaned against a nearby wall, wiping the sweat from his brow. His sharp eyes flicked to Giyuu, who stood bathed in the faint light of the moon. That’s when it hit him like a freight train.
Damn it. Giyuu looked good.
The water hashira was dressed in traditional omega wear, his clothing neat and formal, meant to aid their disguise. The subtle makeup on his face accentuated his already striking features—his sharp eyes, his pale complexion, and the natural softness of his lips. It wasn’t that Sanemi wanted to notice, but he couldn’t help it.
Sanemi prefers Giyuu without the makeup of course but it's not like he looked bad with them on, In fact, he looked really really great. Sure, Sanemi was put together more than usual too but it's not that huge of a deal to him. He hesitated to move, fearing that whatever he does right now will create a domino effect and open more doors than he would like, doors he didn't know where it led to.
He hated to admit it, but Giyuu always looked good to him. But tonight, with the moonlight catching on the edges of his features and his breathing ragged from the fight, he looked… breathtaking.
Sanemi bit the inside of his cheek, trying to shake the unwelcome thoughts out of his head. Get a fucking grip , he thought to himself. But no matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept wandering back to Giyuu.
Giyuu, oblivious to the internal war raging within Sanemi, adjusted his sleeves and tried to catch his breath. "Sanemi?" He glanced over at Sanemi, his usual blank expression softening slightly.
“Are you okay?” Giyuu asked, his voice quiet but steady.
Sanemi didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His self-control was hanging by a thread, and Giyuu’s concern only made it worse.
His gaze lingered on Giyuu, tracing the lines of his face, the sharp contrast of his pale skin against the dark fabric of his traditional omega attire. The faint flush from the fight still painted Giyuu's cheeks, and the makeup he wore-simple yet striking-only seemed to accentuate the quiet beauty Sanemi had tried so hard not to notice.
It annoyed him. No, it infuriated him. How did Giyuu manage to look so composed and breathtaking after a brutal battle? It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair how just standing there, catching his breath, Giyuu could unravel Sanemi's carefully constructed walls.
Sanemi tried to look away, but his body betrayed him, his eyes snapping back to Giyuu's form.
His thoughts raced, his chest tightened, and he found himself moving before he could stop. The space between them disappeared in an instant, and Sanemi's hand shot out, pinning Giyuu against the wall of the alley.
Giyuu gasped softly, startled, his wide eyes meeting Sanemi's. For a brief moment, his instincts screamed at him to defend himself, but he quickly realized there was no malice in Sanemi's actions. There was something else entirely-something raw and unspoken-that burned in the alpha's gaze.
Sanemi's voice was a low growl, rough and shaky as he muttered, "Why the hell do you have to look like that?"
Before Giyuu could even process the words, Sanemi leaned in, Giyuu blinked, his brain scrambling to process what was happening. For a split second, he thought Sanemi might actually hit him.
But then, before he could respond, Sanemi closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Giyuu’s in a fierce, heated kiss.
Oh my gosh.
He was going to faint.
The kiss was anything but gentle. It was fierce, urgent, and all-consuming, as if Sanemi had been holding himself back for far too long and could no longer bear the weight of his restraint.
Giyuu froze for a second, his mind a blur of confusion and disbelief.
But as Sanemi's hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, something inside him cracked open. His omega instincts roared to life, and he found himself kissing back just as fiercely, his fingers clutching the front of Sanemi's uniform.
The world around them seemed to fade away.
The faint embers of the battle's aftermath, the lingering scent of blood and ash-it all disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming heat of the moment. Sanemi's lips were rough, demanding, and desperate, but Giyuu didn't mind. If anything, it made his heart race faster.
Sanemi deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding down to Giyuu's waist, pulling him flush against him. He could feel the omega's rapid heartbeat, the trembling of his body, and it only spurred him on. His mind was a chaotic mess of want and frustration, and for once, he stopped trying to fight it.
Giyuu's hands moved instinctively, one clutching at Sanemi's shoulder while the other gripped the alpha's arm. His knees felt weak, his body pliant under Sanemi's touch, and for a moment, he allowed himself to surrender to the intensity of the kiss.
Sanemi eventually pulled back, though just barely, his breath hot and ragged against Giyuu's lips. His forehead rested against the omega's, and for a moment, all they could hear was the sound of their uneven breathing.
Giyuu stared up at him, his lips swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes wide with a mix of emotions he couldn't begin to untangle. He didn't speak, but his trembling form and the way he clung to Sanemi said enough.
Sanemi's grip on Giyuu's waist tightened for a moment before he let out a low curse, stepping back slightly but not entirely breaking the contact. Fuck, what did I just do?
Sanemi wasn't satisfied, this wasn't enough, he needed more, more, more and more .
He needed so much more after getting that first taste of it after all those months ago.
He immediately plunges right back in, eliciting a startled gasp from Giyuu, a sound so foreign from the stoic Water Hashira. But that doesn't matter because Giyuu wasn't letting up, he was kissing back just as much.
The first few moments the kiss was chaste and heated with clashing teeth and bumped noses. Sanemi’s hands were moving up and down Giyuus waist and hips, like he was caressing it and trying to unravel the cloth that restricted him from touching the omega's skin directly.
His hands lingered a little bit on the small of his back. And before Giyuu knew it, Sanemi was pulling them together even closer. But eventually, it turned into slow and syrupy, almost as if they were both savoring this moment. The drags of their tongues turned into just the feel of lips against each other until they pulled away once more.
Giyuu's fingers twitched, the warmth of Sanemi's touch still lingering on his skin. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it, unsure of what to say. His thoughts were a tangled mess of disbelief and a faint, dangerous hope.
The alpha took a shaky breath, glancing at Giyuu one more time before grabbing his hand.
"Let's go," Sanemi said gruffly, his voice lacking its usual sharp edge.
Without another word, he led Giyuu away from the battlefield, their hands still intertwined.
Neither of them spoke, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. And though neither dared to admit it, something had shifted—a line crossed beyond just a broken boundary.
—and neither knew what it would mean for them moving forward.
Admittedly, Sanemi’s head is repeating ‘stupidstupid,sofuckingstupid’ over and over in his head like a mantra. I mean, just because he was apart from his mate that he didn't even romantically like for a long period of time, that doesn't mean he missed him…right? Totally not at all.
Though the kiss did satisfy the itching urge that Sanemi's alpha instincts have been convincing him to do (the alpha was freaking satisfied. Fucking bastard.).
Giyuu on the other hand, secretly felt a little giddy with all that happened just a few moments ago, he didn't know what to feel obviously because he was conflicted with what they truly are, him and Sanemi.
But he knows it's best not to think about it because he also knows that Sanemi doesn't see him like that anyway. Giyuu didn't dare hope, he figures that Sanemi must have just given into his alpha instincts, much like Giyuu who kissed him back because of his omega instincts.
It's all biology, Giyuu tries to persuade himself.
Maybe that was Sanemi's way of saying that he missed Giyuu.
Maybe, he might've missed him a little too.
Sanemi clenched his fists as he sat on the edge of his futon, the events of the day swirling relentlessly in his head. He told himself not to think about it, but every time he tried to distract himself, the memory came rushing back like a damn tidal wave.
That interaction with Giyuu.
The way the water hashira had looked at him during their mission, lingering too long in his line of sight, standing too close—hell, even brushing against him a few times. It wasn’t like they hadn’t worked together before, but today felt different.
Wrong, somehow. Like he was letting himself in too deep.
He scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair. It shouldn’t matter. He didn’t care. They were barely even friends. Strangers tied together by circumstances neither of them had asked for. The only reason they had a connection at all was because of that bite.
Sanemi’s fingers absentmindedly brushed over the mark on his neck, his scowl deepening. He could still remember the moment it happened—the desperation, the anxiety, the way Giyuu’s sharp teeth had sunk into his skin to save his life. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t special. It was survival.
So why did it feel like more than that now?
He shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Not happening.” he muttered to himself. He wouldn’t let this get to him. He refused to.
And yet, the way Giyuu had looked at him today—soft, wistful, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t—kept replaying in his mind. It made no sense. It pissed him off.
Sanemi’s jaw tightened. He had tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to Giyuu’s usual weirdness, but then the idiot had gone and stood too close during the mission. He could still feel the phantom warmth of the omega’s presence next to him, as if Giyuu had deliberately pushed into his space.
And now, hours later, Sanemi couldn’t shake the memory of it.
He gritted his teeth, running a hand down his face.
It wasn’t like Giyuu had ever cared to interact with him much before whatever they were right now. Their mating bond had always been an obligation, something neither of them talked about.
They didn’t spend time together outside of missions, besides their…make out sessions. They didn’t share a lot of personal stories or confide in each other. They knew enough about each other to a reasonable level. And that was fine.
But now, Sanemi couldn’t stop thinking about how Giyuu had glanced at him during the fight, how his dark eyes had lingered and his kissed slicked lips, how his expression had softened in a way that made Sanemi’s chest tighten.
He hated it. Hated that it made him feel something.
And he hated even more that, deep down, he knew exactly what it was.
No.
He wasn’t going to let himself get dragged into whatever mess this was. It was better to keep things neutral, professional. Giyuu was his co-worker at best, that he spends his cycles with. A co-worker that wears Sanemi’s bite on his neck. A co-worker that he claimed as his omega. That was all.
The bite mark on his neck throbbed faintly, as if mocking him for trying to convince himself otherwise.
Sanemi growled for the nth time today, running both hands through his hair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to care.
The idiot didn’t even say anything! Not that he looked like he didn’t like it or anything. He probably should’ve asked for permission too anyway. Although Sanemi always presumed that they’ve established consent in their relationship for a long time now. Should he still be asking every single time?
But the truth was undeniable. Giyuu had gotten under his skin, and no matter how much Sanemi tried to fight it, the omega’s presence was etched into him like a scar he couldn’t erase.
Sanemi walked through the hallways of the inn they were staying at, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. This particular inn was designated for demon slayers, always of the same secondary gender, which meant it was a space designed for their recuperation and training.
Usually, only slayers occupied the inn, so it offered a rare sense of quiet and solitude. He figured it would be the perfect opportunity to unwind and clear his head after the chaos of their mission in the entertainment district. He had been looking forward to the bath, hoping the warm water would wash away the lingering tension in his muscles and, more importantly, the thoughts that kept circling back to him.
It had been a while since he’d actually got a good clean of himself, especially after the precious battle. Sure, he was put together as much as Giyuu was a few hours ago but they didn’t exactly have time to properly clean themselves before and after.
Turning into the communal bathing area, Sanemi pushed open the sliding door, the subtle hiss of the wood against its track breaking the silence. He stepped in, ready to let the steam and solitude do their work. But the moment he glanced inside, his entire body tensed.
Sitting by one of the low faucets, rinsing himself in an almost serene manner, was Giyuu. The omega’s dark hair, damp and loose, clung to his shoulders, and his usually reserved expression was relaxed, softened by the haze of the room. Sanemi froze, his jaw clenching. Why the hell is he here?
...Well, why wouldn't he be here?
He immediately felt the urge to turn around and leave, his earlier craving for solitude now battling with the discomfort of Giyuu’s presence. He should’ve known this might happen. Normally, ryokans provided separate bathing spaces for alphas and omegas, but this inn, specifically catering to slayers, didn’t follow those rules.
It was assumed that most slayers would be too preoccupied with their duties to bother with such distinctions. It was logical, but now Sanemi couldn’t decide if he was more irritated by the oversight—or the fact that he was standing here, unsure of what to do.
For a fleeting moment, Sanemi debated whether he should just ignore Giyuu and proceed as if he wasn’t there. But the thought of sharing this space—this small, enclosed space—with the omega made his skin crawl with unease. Not because he was uncomfortable with omegas in general, but because it was Giyuu. And after their strange interaction earlier, the last thing Sanemi needed was more fuel for the thoughts he was desperately trying to push aside.
Still, he stood there, frozen in the doorway. His fists clenched at his sides as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Why am I angry? he thought, though he already knew the answer. Seeing Giyuu in such an unguarded moment stirred something in him that he wasn’t ready to confront. That graceful way the omega moved, the way the steam curled around him, softening his usually sharp features—it made Sanemi’s chest tighten, and he hated it.
The omega seemed to sense his presence almost immediately, as his hands abruptly stopped their gentle scrubbing. Giyuu’s movements paused for just a second before resuming as if nothing had happened.
Sanemi’s gaze darted away, jaw tightening. It felt wrong seeing Giyuu like that—so vulnerable, so exposed, so naked . He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the irrational guilt that prickled at him. This wasn’t wrong. They were both slayers. They were both mated. Sharing a bath shouldn’t feel like such a monumental event. And yet, it did.
Giyuu finally turned slightly, his dark eyes meeting Sanemi’s in an unreadable gaze. There was no hostility, no invitation—just that maddening neutrality. It made Sanemi’s blood boil for reasons he couldn’t even articulate.
“Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand there?” Giyuu asked softly, his voice calm, almost too calm.
Sanemi’s scowl deepened. “What are you doing here?” he snapped, though the question was ridiculous. It was a bathhouse—what else would Giyuu be doing?
The omega blinked, clearly unimpressed by the question. “The same thing you were planning to do, I imagine,” he replied evenly, turning his attention back to rinsing his hair.
Sanemi growled low in his throat, his frustration mounting. He wanted to retort, to say something sharp that would break through Giyuu’s infuriating calm, but no words came to him. Instead, he stood there, the tension between them thickening with every passing second.
Damn it, he thought, his hands tightening into fists. Why does he always have to make things so complicated?
Giyuu didn’t say a word after that, and the silence between them grew heavier with each passing second. The only acknowledgement he gave Sanemi was so mundane and…unusually normal considering what happened between them earlier. That was it. Then, he turned back and continued washing himself, his hands moving with quiet precision over his delicate skin.
Sanemi exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step further into the bathhouse. If Giyuu could stay composed, so could he.
It wasn’t weird, he reminded himself. They were mates, after all, albeit in name only. This wasn’t some awkward breach of boundaries. It wasn’t inappropriate.
So why did his pulse quicken every time Giyuu moved?
He made quick work of getting himself situated, grabbing a bucket of water and a bar of soap. His hands worked automatically, scrubbing the dirt and grime from his skin, but his senses betrayed him.
The faint scent of Giyuu’s pheromones clung to the humid air, subtle yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was there, and it wrapped around Sanemi like a second skin. He gritted his teeth, trying to block it out, but his heightened senses refused to cooperate.
Every sound the omega made seemed amplified—the soft scrubbing of his skin, the delicate splash of water as he rinsed, the quiet shuffle of his footsteps as he moved closer to the onsen. Sanemi’s back stiffened, every nerve in his body screaming at him not to turn around. He clenched his fists, gripping the soap harder than necessary, forcing himself to focus on his own task.
He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t look.
But holy fuck, it was hard.
His instincts, primal and unrelenting, urged him to glance over, to feast his eyes on the omega who had unknowingly taken up residence in his head. He could feel his alpha practically slapping his head to the right just so he could take a look at him.
He tried to shake the thought loose, scrubbing his skin harder, as though he could physically scrub the intrusive thoughts from his mind.
The sound of water rippling behind him almost broke his resolve. Giyuu had stepped into the onsen, the soft lapping of water marking his every movement. Sanemi’s jaw tightened further. He didn’t need to look to know how the steam would cling to Giyuu’s pale skin, how his damp hair would frame his face. The image was already seared into his mind, uninvited and unwelcome.
Get a grip, he scolded himself. He forced his hands to keep working, rinsing the soap from his skin and hair with an almost frantic urgency. He needed to finish up and get out. The omega’s presence felt like it was wrapping around him, suffocating him, even though they hadn’t exchanged a single word.
Sanemi’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears. He had faced countless demons, stared death in the face more times than he could count, but this—this stupid, mundane situation—was undoing him. All he had to do was keep his head down, finish his business, and leave. Simple.
But the way his body reacted to Giyuu, the way his thoughts betrayed him, made him feel like he was losing a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting.
When he finally finishes washing up and trudges toward the door, Sanemi’s mind is set on leaving the bathhouse as fast as possible. He’s so close to freedom he can almost taste it. Just as he reaches for the sliding door, though, Giyuu’s soft voice cuts through the humid air.
“Aren’t you gonna get in?”
Sanemi freezes, his hand hovering over the door. He doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the question, the tone in Giyuu’s voice—calm, steady, and laced with something Sanemi can’t quite pin down.
Against his better judgment, he snaps his head around, and that’s when he sees him.
Giyuu is sitting in the onsen, the warm water rippling gently around him. Only his shoulders are visible above the surface, pale and glistening from the faint steam rising from the bath. His damp hair clings to his neck and collarbone, framing his face with delicate strands.
Sanemi’s breath catches for half a second, but he shakes his head and forces himself to keep his composure.
“It’s… improper,” he mutters, his voice low and gruff. He snaps his gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at the omega any longer than necessary. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for his restraint.
Giyuu tilts his head slightly, his expression unreadable as always. “I’m your mate, aren’t I?” he says, his voice as calm as still water. “It’s not a big deal.”
Sanemi grits his teeth, his irritation bubbling to the surface. He turns slightly, still careful not to let his gaze wander too much. “You know damn well why, Giyuu.”
Giyuu just shrugs, the faintest ripple disturbing the water as he shifts. “Besides,” he says, his voice as smooth and steady as ever, “it’ll soothe your muscles.”
“I am well aware of what it does,” Sanemi snaps, his tone sharper than intended.
“Then what are you waiting for, alpha?” Giyuu replies, his gaze steady, almost challenging.
Then what are you waiting for, alpha?
Then what are you waiting for, alpha?
—alpha?
Alpha.
That little—
Oh, he'll show him an alpha.
Sanemi feels his jaw tighten, his resolve wavering under the weight of the omega’s words. He doesn’t know if Giyuu is doing this on purpose or if he’s genuinely oblivious, but the effect is the same. He won’t let the omega see how much this is getting to him. No fucking way.
“Fine,” Sanemi growls under his breath, more to himself than to Giyuu. He won’t back down. He won’t let Giyuu win whatever unspoken game this is.
With deliberate movements, he steps away from the door, his back still turned as he begins to remove his clothing. He doesn’t let himself hesitate, doesn’t give himself time to second-guess. When he finally slides into the water, the heat envelops him instantly, soothing his sore muscles and washing away the tension from the mission.
Damn it. Giyuu was right.
Sanemi leans back against the edge of the onsen, letting out a low exhale as he sinks deeper into the water. He props his elbows on the rim and tilts his head back, closing his eyes. For a brief, blissful moment, he forgets Giyuu’s existence entirely.
The heat works its magic, easing the aches and pains from his body, and Sanemi feels himself relax in a way he hasn’t in weeks. The stress of the mission, the exhaustion from constant fighting, even the turmoil swirling in his head—everything fades into the background.
But then, Giyuu shifts in the water, the soft ripple pulling Sanemi back to reality. He cracks one eye open, glancing toward the omega, who’s still seated quietly across from him. Giyuu isn’t looking at him, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the water, his expression calm and serene.
Sanemi shuts his eyes again, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips.
Sanemi tried.
He really tried to keep his focus elsewhere—to keep his thoughts clean and in check . But when his gaze flickered back over to Giyuu, he was struck again by the omega’s quiet elegance.
Giyuu wasn’t even facing him, resting his head against the edge of the tub with his eyes closed, the slope of his neck exposed. The damp strands of his dark hair clung to his skin, cascading down his back in a way that made Sanemi’s throat go dry.
It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d been in this sort of situation. They’d seen each other unclothed plenty of fucking times. Missions, battles, patching each other up—being a demon slayer didn’t afford much privacy and literal having sex .
But this? This was different. Giyuu wasn’t hunched over in exhaustion or covered in blood and dirt. Giyuu wasn't begging for a knot because of his heat. He was just… there, looking calm and beautiful in a way Sanemi wasn’t prepared for.
Unbidden, his mind began to wander, conjuring up wild scenarios where Giyuu was at the center of it all. He hated it—hated how easy it was to imagine himself pulling that omega closer, running his hands along the soft curves he’d only now begun to notice.
Sanemi gritted his teeth and looked away, gripping the edge of the bath as if the physical action would tether him back to reality.
But then Giyuu stirred, breaking through the stillness. Sanemi’s eyes snapped back over just as the omega began to rise from the water. He moved slowly, deliberately, the ripples around him growing wider as he walked toward the edge of the bath.
Sanemi didn’t mean to look. He shouldn’t look. But help him, he couldn’t stop himself.
Giyuu climbed the three small steps leading out of the bath, water sliding down his skin in tantalizing rivulets.
The omega’s figure was illuminated by the soft glow of the bathhouse lanterns, and for the first time, Sanemi truly saw him.
The way Giyuu’s waist curved into his hips—it was enough to make Sanemi’s breath hitch. His skin, smooth and unblemished in places that had somehow escaped the scars of battle, glistened faintly in the warm light. His legs, toned yet slender, carried him with a grace Sanemi hadn’t noticed before.
Sanemi knew he should look away, but it was impossible. This wasn’t the rushed, blurry chaos of missions or moments shared in their cycles. This was slow and deliberate, a view so clear it was burned into his mind.
He’d never thought about Giyuu’s body before. Sure, he’d assumed the omega had the typical omega physique, but seeing it like this? The reality far surpassed anything his mind could have conjured.
Giyuu wasn’t just attractive—he was perfect. He already knew that but this was just so…something that doesn't live up to his imagination and assumptions.
Sanemi swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears as his eyes drank in the sight before him. Giyuu’s shoulders, his waist, the subtle strength in his arms and legs—all of it spoke of his power as a demon slayer, but also of his undeniable allure as an omega.
And Sanemi hated himself for it.
For staring, for memorizing every detail, for wanting. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny it: the omega was irresistible, from the roots of his dark, damp hair to the delicate arches of his legs.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he burned the image into his memory, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
Damn it, Giyuu . Why did he have to be so effortlessly stunning? Why did this have to happen here, now, when Sanemi could feel his resolve cracking by the second? When he could feel his inner alpha pushing him to grab Giyuu's wrist.
Honestly, Sanemi wants to just touch himself to this image of Giyuu. Better yet, Giyuu should go back and sit on his lap.
There was no fucking way that Giyuu didn't know what he was doing. He was basically coaxing Sanemi to do something to him right now.
But then Giyuu bent over and picked up his folded towel by where he bathed earlier, he was too far away but Sanemi was sure the omega's pink supple folds peeked from his legs before he bent back up.
He could barely suppress the groan in his throat upon seeing a quick peek of flushed folds.
And then Giyuu was out the door without a word, leaving Sanemi with a raging boner.
Giyuu was going to be the death of Sanemi.
After those two incidents, Giyu and Sanemi could not keep their hands off each other.
Especially after that show Giyuu put on at the communal bath? Sanemi was a hungry predator.
This newfound possibility that blossomed between them was too tempting to not give into.
So they did.
More often than not, Sanemi would pull Giyuu into a random alleyway. Or they would sneak off and just make out or get handsy.
You know, the usual first year as mates stuff that should have happened to them a year ago. Sanemi is glad that Giyuu is just as horny for him as he is. He thinks that this might be what they should have been doing all this time during their first year of getting mated. Like this is how active their bond expected them to be.
They could not spend a day without disappearing into a corner and coming out disheveled and satisfied. They couldn’t stop meeting up just to make out—they didn't even have sex or anything, sure there was the occasional grinding but it was all just kissing and all Giyuu could do was how amazing it felt. Sanemi was a really good kisser. He’d always find a way to surprise Giyuu.
Sanemi would find opportunities, big or small, to get a taste of Giyuu. When he has breaks with patrolling. Time windows he can peek through to see a glimpse of Giyuu. And every single time it was always the same eager and somewhat exciting feeling bubbling inside of him, a feeling that Sanemi chooses to ignore because he’s scared to know what it means.
Sometimes, Giyuu would catch just a glimpse of the alpha’s eye and he’d know instantly that they’ll be shoving each other's tongues down each other's throat in a few quick moments.
It’s not always Sanemi that initiates their make out sessions, rarely it’s Giyuu too, though he doesn’t really need to say what he wants because he gives the alpha a specific look and he’s sure his message is received in clear understanding: I want to make out.
Giyuu doesn’t want to think about this new…stage in their relationship. He is too scared to confront the idea that kissing was only for couples who were in love–which he and Sanemi are definitely not–at all. All he could do is hold his breath and hope for the best. Just like how he handles most things. He doesn’t even know how enjoyable kissing is until Sanemi.
That addicting routine was broken when they were called for an emergency meeting.
Giyuu already knew what it would be about: the Kamado siblings. He’s honestly surprised that it took this long for Ubuyashiki to hold the meeting but then again, the Oyakata-sama must’ve considered how the siblings would turn out to be first rather than jump into conclusions.
Giyuu purposely waited until the others were already assembled before making his entrance. It was a calculated decision—he wasn’t in the mood for unnecessary confrontation, and he knew that the second he walked in, everyone would react one way or another.
Soon enough, before Giyuu could even step further into the meeting place, a familiar, loud, arrogant voice cut through the air.
“Whoa, whoa—this just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” Sanemi sneered.
Giyuu’s narrowed gaze snapped toward him, his entire frame going rigid when he realized exactly what the alpha was holding.
Sanemi had his hands on Nezuko’s box. Giyuu almost gritted out a vicious snarl at Sanemi when his eyes landed on him holding it.
A Kakushi frantically waved his arms around as an attempt to stop his irrationality. “Please don’t, Shinazugawa-sama! Let go of the box, please!”
But Sanemi’s grip didn’t loosen. His sharp, accusing glare turned toward Giyuu for a moment before he directed it towards Tanjiro, filled with an unrestrained challenge that made the bond mark at Giyuu’s neck pulse painfully.
“So you’re the idiotic bastard who brought a demon here,” Sanemi spat. “What the hell were you planning to do?”
The small window of time where their eyes met was electrifying—but in the worst way possible.
There was an odd, suffocating tension between them, so different from the soft and almost intimate moments they shared over the past year.
The Kakushi were trembling now, realizing that they had failed to stop Sanemi, who looked more than ready to act on his own impulses. “Kocho-sama, please forgive us…” one of them stammered, voice uneven with fear.
Shinobu, who had been watching with a cold, unreadable stare, finally spoke, her tone laced with subtle reprimand. “Please don’t act on your own, Shinazugawa-san,” she said smoothly, but there was an undeniable weight behind her words.
Sanemi scoffed. “What’s a demon to you, kiddo?” he continued, his piercing gaze snapping to Tanjiro once more with twice the challenge. Giyuu watched from the sidelines as Sanemi’s fingers brushed over the hilt of his katana, as if daring Tanjiro to make the wrong move.
“You think you can fight alongside one to protect people?” Sanemi’s voice was laced with mockery.
There was a deadly pause before he suddenly drew his sword.
“You see, about that. That’s impossible, you moron!”
And before anyone could react—
—The sound of a blade slicing through flesh rang through the air.
A metallic scent of blood immediately followed.
Giyuu inhaled sharply.
Nezuko.
Tanjiro shot up instantly, his entire body rigid with pure, unfiltered rage as he rushed toward Sanemi, his voice booming with fury.
“I will never forgive anybody—Pillar or whatever—who hurts my little sister!”
Sanemi laughed. Laughed. “That so? Good for you!” he taunted.
Giyuu watched, stone-faced, his fingers twitching at his sides. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to intervene, but he knew better.
Tanjiro could handle himself. And, sure enough, the boy’s next move was nothing short of satisfying.
But he still screamed a warning as a last ditch effort to save Tanjiro from whatever blow sanemi was prepared to give. “Stop it! Oyakata-sama is arriving soon!”
But it was too late.
With a sickening crack, Tanjiro’s forehead slammed into Sanemi’s skull with the force of a battering ram. Sanemi staggered back and hit the ground along with Tanjiro, clearly dazed from the unexpected hit.
The area went dead silent.
And then—
A snicker. Giyuu couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto his face when he caught Mitsuri barely holding in her laughter. He felt sorry for both of them, in a way—Tanjiro, because he had no choice but to fight for the respect he deserved, and Sanemi, because he was so blinded by his hatred that he couldn’t see beyond it (not just because he was his mate) .
But what mattered to Giyuu was that Tanjiro wasn’t the scared, quivering thirteen-year-old he once knew. He truly believed in Tanjiro and Nezuko. He believed that they could be more than what people expected them to be.
A demon protecting a human from another human? It was something that has never happened before. Giyuu immediately saw through the potential of that circumstance.
So when the other Hashira inevitably voiced their disapproval, he wasn’t even remotely surprised. He had anticipated this reaction from the start. Even after Oyakata-sama’s decision was made, there were still those who murmured in discontent. But that didn’t matter to him, not when this could be the answer they were looking for.
What did catch him off guard, however, was the sheer weight of Sanemi’s stare after Ubuyashiki’s daughter mentioned Giyuu’s fate. It was like a burning brand against his skin. The bond mark at Giyuu’s neck pulsed heavily, almost painfully, as he felt the scalding rage seeping through their connection.
Sanemi was absolutely furious.
The alpha’s jaw was tight, his body wound with barely restrained aggression. Giyuu could feel the overwhelming rejection of the idea radiating off him, even before he opened his mouth.
And when he finally did—
“Both of them should be punished,” Sanemi snapped, his voice ice-cold. For some reason, out of every hashira’s contradictions about this predicament, he only heard Sanemi’s voice. Giyuu merely inhaled deeply, remaining as composed as ever.
He didn’t expect Sanemi to accept this decision. But he also didn’t expect the alpha to be this strongly opposed to it. At least, not in a way that felt so… visceral.
Giyuu could feel that it was something far more personal, something that should be discussed between them.
But Giyuu didn’t let that affect him.
Instead, he focused on the quiet reassurance in Tanjiro’s gaze, especially when they spilled grateful tears. And then, as if to solidify that this choice was the right one, Nezuko turned her head away from Sanemi’s marechi blood. Sure, he didn’t know the siblings as well as Urokodaki-san but that didn’t mean that there was still some sort of unnamed bond lingering between them.
Giyuu felt a flicker of something in his chest.
Something that felt a lot like relief because this was proof that the creator of demons also had flaws, that there is a chance to renew the world without Muzan.
And no matter how much Sanemi disagreed, no matter how much hatred he still carried in his heart—Giyuu would never stop believing in them.
He wanted to challenge Sanemi, he wants him to know that his omega is hurt from his decision to be against Giyuu’s beliefs. But he couldn’t act out of line. Not even when he said that he must punish him and Tanjiro. Giyuu can’t believe that this was the same meek alpha that was in rut a few weeks ago. The same alpha that didn’t even fuck Giyuu during the first couple hours and instead insisted on just cock warming him while marking him with his scent. Of course, like always, Sanemi would take and take until Giyuu is wrecked. Beautifully wrecked that leaves him utterly satisfied each time.
After Tanjiro and Nezuko were dismissed—
It was only a matter of time before Sanemi cornered him.
Giyuu had known the confrontation was inevitable, had felt it simmering beneath the surface ever since Ubuyashiki’s verdict had been declared. Sanemi had been silent in the immediate aftermath—dangerously so.
But now, barely an hour after the meeting, Giyuu found himself backed against a wall, his breath caught in his throat as Sanemi loomed over him, his presence all-consuming, overwhelming in a way that was more than just physical.
His omega was screaming at him to submit and get down on his knees to ask for forgiveness. But the rational human part of him without the secondary gender bullshit fights to show equal show of power.
Sanemi’s eyes were burning, frustration rolling off him in waves as he demanded, “Why are you committing seppuku for that brat?”
Giyuu stared at him, unflinching. “Why shouldn’t I?” That only pissed Sanemi off more.
“His sister is a fuckin’ demon! What do you mean, why shouldn’t you?!’” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade and bouncing off the walls in piercing echoes. “You wanna slit your own stomach open for them? For her?”
Giyuu’s jaw tightened, but his voice was even when he replied, “Sanemi, their family was massacred—I couldn’t just leave them to die when they lost everything.”
Sanemi laughed bitterly, incredulous. “And? You think that justifies it? You think pity is enough reason to risk your life?”
Giyuu’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “It’s not about pity. It’s about what they can do. They have the capabilities to be more—to free the world of demons so that no one else would experience what we’ve suffered through. I’m sure of it.”
Sanemi’s expression twisted.
“And what happens if they don’t meet your expectations?” he challenged, his voice dropping to something dangerously quiet. “You die, just like that? You’d cut your stomach open—after all that confidence in them?”
Without hesitation, Giyuu answered, “Yes.” Sanemi’s breath hitched, his nostrils flaring.
Giyuu didn’t stop. “They are meant for greatness, I know it.” His voice was unwavering, filled with the kind of certainty that made Sanemi grit his teeth. “Her ability to withstand her instincts—to resist her urges—will aid Tanjiro in his mission.”
“That does not guarantee anything.” His voice was low, edged with something deeper than frustration—something close to fear. “It does not guarantee your life .”
Giyuu exhaled through his nose, his voice sharper than before. “You were too violent, Sanemi. She’s only a child. They’re both just children!”
Sanemi snapped his head toward him, eyes flashing. “She’s a demon regardless!”
His voice reverberated in the small space between them, thick with rage, with something unspoken underneath.
Giyuu stared him down, lips pressing into a firm line as he watched Sanemi turn his back on him. The alpha ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his entire frame tense with pent-up aggression.
A heavy silence settled between them. Then, Sanemi exhaled, a rough, ragged sound.
“I do not approve of this.”
Giyuu’s answer was immediate.
“You don’t need to. I don’t need your approval.”
Sanemi whipped back around, an incredulous, almost insulted look flashing across his face.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Giyuu’s expression didn’t change. “They aren’t a mistake.”
A growl rumbled low in Sanemi’s throat, his patience snapping like a frayed wire. “Ah—Fuck, why do I even care?”
Sanemi scoffed, shaking his head. And then he said it.
“You’re not actually my fucking—”
Giyuu went still.
“Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.” Sanemi’s words hung between them like a blade, the impact far heavier than the alpha probably intended. Sanemi didn’t wait for any sort of reply from him.
He turned on his heel and walked out, footsteps heavy with frustration.
And Giyuu didn’t chase after him.
Because, obviously, why would he? If he went after Sanemi now, he would only make it worse. So instead, Giyuu stood there, still and silent, the remnants of Sanemi’s scent still lingering around him, tangled in their bond.
It shouldn’t have affected him. He shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t give into his inner omega whispering about how bad he was . About how he’s rejected by his alpha. About how they were being abandoned by their alpha. Ugh.
But it did and all he could do is try to walk it off.
It started as an ache. A dull, relentless pressure in his chest, in the bond mark on his neck.
No matter how much Giyuu told himself to ignore it, to move on from their fight, it clawed at him from the inside out.
His omega pleaded—urged him to fix it, to seek out his alpha and ease his displeasure. The longer he resisted, the more unbearable it became, a restless scratching that made it impossible to think, eat, or even train properly.
Five miserable days had passed, yet the tension between them remained.
Giyuu thought that was the end of them, that they’d slip back into cold indifference, strangers once more despite the bond between them. He didn’t want to let go of everything they had between them. Not yet.
It was still too fresh and raw in his heart, mind, and memories. For the first time in a while, he looked forward to getting up in the morning with the alpha at the center of his inspiration. He liked being on Sanemi’s good side, he liked that Sanemi favoured him.
He was essentially over the moon when Sanemi accidentally admitted that he wanted to strangle Obanai and his stupid ass snake , the alpha’s words not his, whenever he throws passive aggressive remarks towards my omega.
Giyuu thought it was cute because he didn’t even care about whatever Obanai had to say about him.
And perhaps that would have been all lost—had he not accidentally found him.
At the graveyard. The place where the fallen slayers rested, those whose bodies could be recovered but had no families to return to, families the Corps couldn’t even trace so they couldn’t even rest in peace together.
Giyuu hadn’t even meant to be there. It was simply a shortcut—an easier path to take instead of going over the mountain again.
But when he saw a familiar crouched figure in front of a grave, head bowed, posture uncharacteristically still—he hesitated. His heart started to beat uncontrollably out of fear and excitement.
He approached the alpha in quiet footsteps, afraid that he’ll piss him off again.
“…Why the fuck are you here?”
Sanemi didn’t turn to look at him. Giyuu’s eyes flickered to the grave in front of him. He already knew the name carved into the stone.
“Masachika-san, right?”
That made Sanemi’s shoulders tense. He slowly turned his head, gaze sharp and unreadable.
“How the fuck do you know that?”
Giyuu shrugged slightly. “You made quite the big deal about it.” He still remembered that day, when Sanemi rampaged into the Ubuyashiki estate like a herd of elephants and demanded whatever it was that Giyuu couldn’t remember. Back then, he didn’t even care to look at him since he was too swallowed up by the past like he always did during hashira meetings.
Then almost a year later, they got mated.
Sanemi scoffed, but didn’t argue. They didn’t talk for a while after that. Instead, Giyuu stood back—keeping a respectful distance, waiting as Sanemi paid his respects. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing at all.
It wasn’t until Sanemi stood up, dusting off his haori, that Giyuu finally spoke.
“I came to say I’m so—”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Giyuu blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He had expected Sanemi to be stubborn, to fight him on this, to at least demand he admit he was wrong. Instead, Sanemi’s voice was even, almost tired. Giyuu didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply nodded.
Without another word, he followed Sanemi out of the cemetery, their footsteps soft against the dirt path. The world felt far away, the quiet between them less hostile than before as they made their way out of the graveyard.
Eventually, they ended up under a wisteria tree, its petals swaying in the breeze, filtering the light above them into soft, lilac shadows.
Sanemi’s back was turned to him.
And Giyuu, staring at it, finally said—
“I’m not taking back what I said.”
Sanemi huffed, shaking his head slightly.
“I don’t expect you to.” His voice was quieter now, less sharp than it had been five days ago. “I still think they’re unreliable.”
Giyuu exhaled.
“That’s okay. I don’t expect you to either.”
A beat of silence.
Then, a grumble, almost too soft to hear.
“I’m just—worried. Okay?”
That made Giyuu freeze.
Sanemi clicked his tongue, clearly irritated, but he continued.
“I don’t want you to lose your life for some lousy ass—”
But Giyuu wasn’t listening anymore.
Because Sanemi was worried about him.
For him.
Everything else faded into background noise. Giyuu stopped listening all together when he heard Sanemi say that he was worried for Giyuu, everything was muted out.
His heart skipped a beat, but he refused to acknowledge it. He did, however, fail to contain the spill of pheromones that leaked into the air—soft, warm, the unmistakable scent of an omega pleased by their alpha’s attention.
Sanemi paused, his nostrils flaring slightly, but he didn’t comment on it.
Instead, he simply nodded. Giyuu just nodded, barely able to contain the pleased purr that rumbled in his throat.
Then, after a brief pause, he hesitantly asked—after Sanemi's lecture about whatever stuff that Giyuu wasn't paying attention to—
“Are we… okay now?”
Sanemi didn’t answer right away. But after a moment, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yeah.”
It happened before he could stop himself.
Before his brain could catch up, before he could think about the consequences, before he could question whether this was right or wrong—
Giyuu lunged.
His hands fisted into the front of Sanemi’s uniform, pulling him forward, closing the space between them with a force that left no room for hesitation.
Their lips collided, rough and desperate—Giyuu barely registered the sharp inhale from Sanemi, barely processed the way their teeth clashed for half a second before they adjusted.
Because Sanemi wasn’t pulling away.
He wasn’t protesting.
If anything, he met him halfway, hands gripping firmly at Giyuu’s waist, yanking him closer with enough strength to send a shiver up Giyuu’s spine.
Should they pull away? Absolutely. Can they pull away? Absolutely not.
And Giyuu—he couldn’t help it.
He couldn’t admit that he had missed this.
Missed him.
He had spent five fucking days ignoring the pull of their bond, resisting the way his omega whined for his alpha, burying his instincts beneath layers of stubbornness and pride.
But now, with Sanemi so close, his scent thick in the air, his breath warm against his skin—
It all unraveled.
Sanemi’s lips were feverish, moving with a hunger that made Giyuu’s knees weaken, made his omega instincts keel over in submission.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was rough, heated, frustrated—like they were trying to say everything they hadn’t been able to in words.
When they finally pulled apart, their breathing was heavy, their foreheads nearly touching.
Sanemi’s eyes burned into him, half-lidded, lips still slightly parted, as if he couldn’t decide whether to curse at him or kiss him again.
Giyuu swallowed hard.
Soon enough, like the many times before, Giyuu and Sanemi found themselves entangled in a passionate embrace, their recent spat long forgotten.
The tension that had once clouded their relationship had dissipated, replaced by an electric energy that crackled between them. Giyuu swallowed hard, his throat dry as he took in the sight of Sanemi, his alpha, looking back at him with a hunger that was palpable.
Giyuu's heart pounded in his chest as Sanemi stepped backward, their lips slotting together again in the most familiar way. The alpha's legs hit the wooden bench behind him, a soft thud that echoed in the quiet afternoon.
Sanemi tugged Giyuu even closer, urging him to sit on his lap, and Giyuu didn't waste any time, comfortably placing himself on the alpha's lap without pulling away.
Their kiss deepened, tongues dancing and teeth clashing in a frenzy of desire. Giyuu's hands roamed over Sanemi's broad chest, his fingers tracing the hard planes of muscle that were exposed by his uniform. Giyuu fucking loved his exposed chest.
Sanemi groaned, his hands gripping Giyuu's hips tightly as they made out insatiably.
Giyuu's body responded to Sanemi's touch, he could feel his cunt get wet with slick beneath the confines of his pants.
He began to make small, gentle rocking motions of his hips against Sanemi's hardening erection to relieve his desperation.
The alpha growled encouragingly at the feeling, the sound grumbling between their connected lips. Giyuu's breath hitched, his body responding to the sound with a surge of desire.
Sanemi's hands tightened on Giyuu's hips, urging him to move faster. Giyuu obliged, his movements becoming more frantic as he ground himself against Sanemi hard enough to make both of their uniforms become damp with his slick.
They were both humping into each other as much as they could, the friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through their bodies.
Just as Giyuu was about to guide Sanemi's hand to his soaking pussy—
The screeching sound of a crow that belonged to none other than Giyuu sounded from above them, chirping out the Water Hashira’s next mission.
They pulled away but only for a moment just so Giyuu could say, “I need to go.” Even so, the omega made no move to stand up from the alpha’s lap. They just… stared at each other, thinking about if it was worth it to ignore the crow a little longer.
They didn't want to pull away.
“Sanemi.” The alpha turned to look at the omega's eyes.
“One more, for the road.” Giyuu whispered breathlessly against Sanemi's lips before he placed both hands on the alpha's cheeks and guided his mouth into his own.
Sanemi didn't want it to be one more, he wanted it to be longer. He wanted to tighten his hold on the omega's waist.
But he knew that this mission was probably more important than their make out sessions so he loosened his grip anyway.
Their mouths didn't stop moving against each other even when Giyuu got up from Sanemi's lap and slightly crouched so he could keep kissing the alpha.
Sanemi still leaned forward and chased Giyuu's lips even when he knew that his omega had to go.
There was an almost barely there pout on his lips as Giyuu fixed himself to look presentable. He doesn't know if he imagined it or not but there was also a tiny moment where he swears he caught Giyuu trying not to smile at his disappointment.
In a blink of an eye, Giyuu placed a quick peck on his lips before he swiftly moved away to the direction of his mission until he was nothing more than a small running figure in Sanemi's vision.
For some reason, that last peck on the lips was more heart stopping than anything they’ve ever done.
All that a flustered Sanemi could think was: I am so fucked.
Notes:
Second year(ish) of mating lovey loveee. What do we think of this new development???
2 more chapters after this one then were going back to the present!
See you guys next update! I appreciate you all:))
Chapter 5: epitome
Summary:
Mitsuri was freaking out. Like, really freaking out.
Did she seriously just see The Tomioka Giyuu—stoic, expressionless, emotionally unreadable Tomioka Giyuu—with that hydrangea? The one that looked exactly like the bundle she saw Shinazugawa-san picking out of his very own garden yesterday!?
Notes:
Hey everyone!
First of all, just to clear things up, the meeting last chapter is different from the meeting in Chapter 45 of the manga, I know it seems like I'm just repeating it but I wanted to show sngy's initial thoughts and feelings abt the Kamado siblings and such(it will make sense in the future chapters)So in that meeting, Sanemi didn't exactly cut himself to tempt Nezuko and Tanjiro doesn't have much experience slaying yet and all of the hashiras in the manga in this timeline wouldn't all be present yet, etc.
Second of all, I am so sorry for my disappearance:( let's just say I have trust issues with google maps now. Anyway! As an apology, this is 20k of pure sngy romancing.
Happy reading!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Giyuu and Sanemi | Age 20
The next year rolls around quietly—unannounced, like most days between them.
This year is also when Giyuu starts acknowledging the idea of mating “anniversaries”. Giyuu knows those kinds of dates, he always does. He thinks that he’s probably the most sentimental person ever, especially with events that marked a significant point of his life.
He remembers dates like his body remembers breathing: without effort and without asking.
The day his sister died.
Sabito’s death and sacrifice.
The day he buried his last chance at being an unmated omega.
And the day he found Tanjiro and Nezuko, hope flickering in his chest for the first time in years.
They all sat inside him, etched on the walls of his heart like carvings on stone. He never talked about it, but he never forgot. So, of course—among that stuff is his and Sanemi’s anniversary.
Or if he could even call it that.
He always remembers, even if Sanemi doesn’t.
How could he not? The dread that usually creeped up on him didn’t really feel that menacing anymore, not for a long while now. Not with all the fleeting touches that Giyuu knows is given with genuine tenderness between them over the years. Not when Giyuu knew details and features about Sanemi that only he could know because the alpha only ever told him that.
He hesitates every year to do something about it because isn't that what people who are in love with each other celebrate? He and Sanemi weren't even in a relationship so they probably didn't even count.
Their shared intimacies don't matter at all because they aren’t romantically involved with each other right? Sure, they got closer to each other lately, both body and feeling (somewhat) but it didn’t guarantee that it actually meant something between them.
The first time he was reminded by it, it came like a momentary gust of cold breeze through the almost winter air. Giyuu sat alone for a long time that night, back resting against the shoji door, watching the moon filter through the paper panes. He didn’t mention anything.
Back then, that foreboding feeling that would leave his stomach churning and uncomfortable would always encircle him.
He had wondered, back then, if things would ever get better.
The next year, he thought about buying something. They were sort of progressing into this grey area where they weren’t lovers but they weren’t exactly friends either? Acquaintances maybe? Co-workers?. Come what may, they were surely something .
A small gesture, nothing obvious. Just to show that Giyuu was willing to nourish their development whatever it is. He doesn’t dare hope for anything more than friendship, he doesn’t think he can handle giving his heart to another person yet again only to have it shattered terribly.
He stood outside a stall in a nearby village for an absurdly long time, eyes fixed on a simple beaded bracelet that vaguely reminded him of Sanemi’s eyes—pale silver and unyielding.
But he walked away.
What was he supposed to say? Happy… bonding day? It sounded pathetic.
They're not in love so he always dismisses the idea, it felt a little too romantic, far from the true nature of their nonexistent romantic relationship or whatever it is that they have.
Sure, they shared a bed, occasionally. Sure, Sanemi touched him like he needed him sometimes, like he was the only thing that made sense after a bad mission or after an intense wave during their cycles that made the alpha seek him so that he could curl deeper into the omega. Sure, they had these late nights filled with not quite silence and not quite talking, their bond humming somewhere between unresolved tension and tentative comfort.
But it didn’t mean anything. Not that way.
So he dismissed the idea again. Because anniversaries are for people who love each other. For people who count down the days until their anniversaries and look forward to the next year.
Not for two people who were thrown into a bond because of an unfortunate encounter with a demon with eternal consequences.
Not for people like them.
Giyuu tells himself this every year.
This year, Giyuu sits on the engawa he finds himself on every time an “ anniversary ” of theirs passes by, going through all the what if’s he tucked away ever since that event.
Call him cliché for daydreaming about stereotypical romance agenda’s but can you really blame him? Tsutako didn’t exactly romanticize the whole idea of getting mated and married because it truly wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies. But the way her love life was structured?
Being surrounded by that healthy looking love, it was only natural that it made Giyuu believe that maybe, he’ll be lucky like his sister was.
The wind brushes past him as always, tugging at the hem of his uniform. Maybe nature was mocking by always making this very day windy, as if taunting him that his alpha isn’t beside him on their bonding anniversary. Which was stupid because they were far from mates.
He watches the sky. The exact same sky that had hung above them three years ago when everything between them shifted.
Giyuu assumes that Sanemi probably doesn't even remember the day they got mated, a day when every existing molecule and electronegativity transformed between them, he thought that maybe Sanemi saw it like how it truly was: a convenience. Not like Giyuu does.
If Giyuu didn’t get to know him like he did now, the omega would assume that he's exactly the type to be like that, looked uncaring and acted uncaring. He didn’t dare hope to initiate something or for the alpha to do something.
But he knows Sanemi better now.
Knows that he’s never really forgotten Masachika’s birthday. That he still visits the graves of the slayers who died under his watch. That no matter how much he tries to hide it, Giyuu could tell whenever he’d mourn the deaths of his family members. That he touches Giyuu’s wrist gently in the middle of the night just to check if he’s still there, even if he never says anything about it.
Even though they had this weird progressing relationship going on between them, it was still blurry and unreliable unless they both can say it out loud.
So he starts his day by putting that idea out of mind once more and starts to get ready for his training later with Mitsuri. He wasn’t looking forward to teaching her since Giyuu doesn’t really think he’s the best teacher but it was mandatory and he couldn't back out.
On the bright side, Mitsuri didn’t seem like the overbearing type like Uzui. Giyuu heard that she was Rengoku’s tsuguko which meant that she was similar to the Flame Hashira. Giyuu placed Rengoku on the neutral part of people he likes and doesn’t like to interact with. He was easy going and didn’t stomp on Giyuu’s comfort zone during the rare times he actually does converse with his fellow Hashira.
So he wasn’t worried about that. The only thing that took immense space in his mind was the assumption that Sanemi never remembers their mating “anniversaries”.
But Giyuu was wrong.
Because Sanemi does remember.
Even if Sanemi acts cool and nonchalant, like it’s just another day. Even if he shrugs off special dates like they’re inconveniences. Even if he rolls his eyes every time someone so much as mentions anniversaries or holidays or anything that requires a little tenderness.
He remembers. He remembers exactly when they were mated. Remembers the tension, the sharp edge of instinct, the helplessness they both hated. Remembers how everything changed with a bite and a bond they didn’t ask for. Remembers the scent of Giyuu’s blood in the air—and how he felt sick thinking it could’ve been worse.
And he remembers the way Giyuu looked at him that night. Calm. Quiet. Unreadable, like always—but there was something behind his eyes, like he’d made peace with the weight of the bond already.
Sanemi hadn’t.
Not then.
Not yet.
But three years in, something shifted.
Something softened.
He didn’t know why he decided to do something about it this year. Maybe it was the way Giyuu never mentioned it, not once, like he was too scared of putting meaning into something that might not matter.
Maybe it was the way Sanemi himself was starting to pay more attention to the little things—like the way Giyuu had a meticulous routine before going on to face demons, or how his scent changed when he sees something that intrigues him during a mission.
Or maybe it was the memory of his mother.
Gentle hands. Soft voice. Always doing something to show her love, even if it meant wrapping leftovers in cloth and calling them “gifts.” Even when they had nothing, she still celebrated each of their birthdays.
Even when one of his siblings’ birthdays were only a couple of days apart, she never once suggested that they celebrate it together to save money. Sanemi could see the large amounts of effort his Ma would make to guarantee that she had a way to make them happy. Sanemi never once thought he’d never get to experience it ever again.
He still remembers the date her sweet and caring mother married his father .
So of course he remembers. And this year—he finds the courage to act on it.
He doesn’t know what Giyuu likes. Not really. Not in the traditional sense. But he knows that Giyuu notices things. Smells. Colors. Feelings. Even if he isn’t the most expressive person like him, Sanemi understood Giyuu more now without words.
So Sanemi chooses carefully.
A small bundle of blue hydrangeas, clipped from the back garden of his estate. It’s a bush that has always caught his eye, even more so when he met Giyuu—one the caretaker still nurtures with devotion.
He doesn’t take any old branch; he picks it himself. Sifts through the petals like it’s some sacred task. He asked permission first obviously, just because this was his estate didn’t mean he got to do whatever he wanted to the garden—because respect matters. Because this is for someone who matters.
When his garden caretaker and one of his attendants spot the flowers he chose, they share a knowing look and nodded approvingly. Sanemi wasn’t quite ready to interrogate them about that look they shared or how it made his heart skip a beat at whatever thoughts that swirled between them and how he released a breath he stubbornly held once he saw their approval.
“They are absolutely beautiful, Shinazugawa-sama.” one of them says gently with a smile.
Sanemi pretends not to care, but his ears turn a little pink.
He wraps the stems in a sturdy vine and pairs it with a soft handkerchief. Sanemi was certain that another thoughtful thing to do was to give Giyuu a piece of clothing that smelled of him because now that he thinks about it, Giyuu has never really asked for them.
It felt so… weirdly vulnerable.
Like he was peeling back another layer of himself.
Since they’ve always done Giyuu’s heats and his ruts at the Wind Estate, he also doesn’t exactly know the state of the omega’s nest. Was it in danger because of his incompetence? Does Giyuu even nest at all? He must have, right?
Regardless, he pushed through. Nevermind that, he had to focus on making this gift perfectly attuned to what Giyuu might like anyway. Sanemi wonders if he just needed to drop them off at the Water Estate.
As much as he would love to see Giyuu’s reaction, he had a mission starting early in the morning and he wasn’t going back until a few days later. It wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t reschedule. Demon activity was ramping up near a village, and it was his turn on rotation.
And frankly, he doesn’t think he won’t be able to stutter while giving the gifts.
A final act of giving that he decided on was at least signing his name with the flowers and handkerchief.
To him it wasn’t enough that Giyuu will assume that it was him who gave the flowers, Sanemi wanted Giyuu to know that it was his alpha who gave them.
So with much practice, guidance, and patience from his attendants, he somewhat succeeded in scribbling his name on the piece of parchment, just enough so that it was eligible for Giyuu.
Writing his name proved harder than expected. His handwriting was rough—years of battle, not study, had left his script messy and barely legible. He practiced on scraps, tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth, brows furrowed. One of his attendants, a patient older woman named Fusa, offered guidance. Gently corrected his strokes. Encouraged him when he got frustrated.
Handwritten. Messy.
Just his name.
No message. No explanation.
Because Giyuu would understand.
He wanted to see the way Giyuu’s face might flush, how his fingers would curl slightly when he saw the note, how he might hold the cloth against his chest like it meant something.
But he couldn’t.
Sanemi stared at it for a long second before carefully sliding it into the folded handkerchief.
With nothing but a leap of faith in his heart, he instructed that his gifts should be delivered early in the morning, then he was off to his mission.
He sends it by crow—quietly, without any grand gesture. The crow squawked and took flight and Sanemi stood at the edge of his estate, arms crossed tight, watching until it vanished into the pinking horizon.
His swords were already strapped to his belt, his uniform freshly cleaned and ready.
But for just a moment… he allowed himself to think of Giyuu once more.
Of his reaction yet again. Sanemi predicts the omega’s scent curling softly around the bundle as his striking blue eyes land on the equally striking blue of the flowers.
And with that image tucked in the corners of his mind, Sanemi turned toward the rising sun and headed off for his mission—
—with nothing but a quiet hope beating steadily in his chest.
He goes about his day like nothing’s different. But all the while, his chest is tight with something he doesn’t know how to name. And for once, he doesn’t care if Giyuu celebrates the day or not.
Doesn’t care if it’s romantic or not.
Doesn’t care if it’s one-sided.
He just wants to do it.
Because he remembers.
Giyuu stood by the window sill with wide eyes, sunlight slipping through the curtains and catching the delicate pale blue petals in a soft glow. The single clumped hydrangea—simple, utterly breathtaking, vibrant—rested in a small, tied bundle, a stem of green tucked beneath the fold of a handkerchief embroidered with swirling wave patterns that reminded him of both wind and water.
His heart squeezed, a feeling that grew familiar in his chest having felt it since he was thirteen and yet—he always feels like it’s the very first time.
The moment he saw them, he knew.
No one else would send him a gift like this. Not with the faint scent of mint and earth curling off the cloth. Not with the parchment folded and slipped so precisely underneath it all, creased just slightly at the corners as if the sender had hesitated, folded and unfolded it multiple times before finally sealing it.
The scribbled name— Sanemi —in a bold, messy hand, ink pressed a little too hard into the paper. It wasn’t elegant, but it was real. Raw. Earnest. So incredibly endearing that Giyuu’s heart beated a little faster the more he studied each careful brush stroke of ink.
It was him.
Giyuu stared.
His face warmed before he even realized it. He knew he was blushing, ears flushing pink and nose tingling faintly from the effort it took to hold back a ridiculous grin. Stupid alpha , he thought, biting down on the inside of his cheek. How is it so easy for you to get under my skin?
There he was, moments ago, lamenting about the fact that Sanemi probably didn’t think about stuff like this—
And yet… It wasn't stupid. It was kind. Thoughtful. Beautiful, in a way only Sanemi could be when he wasn’t trying so hard to be rough around the edges.
Giyuu’s fingers hovered over the handkerchief for a moment before he gave in, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply.
Oh .
That familiar scent washed over him, mint and musk and something warm. His omega practically purred in satisfaction, responding to the strong imprint of the alpha they were bonded to, even though they hadn’t seen each other in a long while. His shoulders relaxed, his body softened without him even trying to. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been since Sanemi left on that mission.
His gaze flicked back to the hydrangeas. Anniversary. That had to be it. Sanemi remembered. Giyuu had always assumed the alpha didn’t care about things like that—dates, symbols, traditions. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe Sanemi did care. In his own stubborn, wordless way.
Was he supposed to give something in return? Was that expected? Was that what omegas were supposed to do on mating anniversaries? Giyuu’s face flushed deeper. Shit, he thought, pressing the handkerchief to his face once more. He says he’s not in love, but—
Lost in his own world he barely registers his elderly attendant’s voice. “Um, Tomioka-sama?”
Giyuu flinched, nearly dropping the bundle as he turned around. His elderly attendant stood by the doorway, blinking at him with polite confusion. How long had she been standing there?
She knew that Giyuu had a routine which probably urged her to check on him since he never strayed away from his routines. Upon finding him standing there motionless, she was likely wondering why Giyuu was standing by the window sill so intently.
Giyuu abruptly turned around, accidentally revealing the hydrangea nestled gently against his chest in a way that left no doubt he was admiring it. Giyuu could only hope that his face didn’t reveal too much about what he was feeling at the moment. But that hope diminished when he subconsciously released pleased smelling pheromones anyway.
Her eyes flicked to the bouquet and her expression softened immediately. She smiled, the kind of knowing smile only older women who had seen far too much of life could give.
“Your mate did well,” she said gently. “They’re as lovely as you, Giyuu-sama.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, ducking his head a little. “Um… thank you.”
Considering that Sanemi could only see certain colors in the spectrum, Giyuu thinks so too.
He looked back down at the flowers, tracing a finger over one of the pale but vibrant petals. They were such a soft color—like the sky just before dusk.
The woman stepped a little closer, peeking at the bouquet fondly. “You know,” she added, her voice still warm, “hydrangeas are a symbol of heartfelt emotion and gratitude.”
Giyuu thought about that for a moment.
“Really?”
“Mm.” She nodded. “They often represent those kinds of emotions. Sometimes apology, sometimes understanding. But always sincere.”
Giyuu stuns at that, he doesn’t know if Sanemi knew the underlying message of the flower he gave. His breath caught the more he let her words sink in. He didn’t know if it was intentional. Nevertheless, he automatically clung to every word that his attendant said about the hydrangea.
He was never much of a flower person, or plant person in general. Urokodaki taught him and Sabito once all those years ago of learning how to navigate life and explore the processes of nourishing a living thing. He said that agriculture was a particularly beneficial skill and since water flowed through every living thing, it was somewhat connected to their technique. But all that Giyuu could remember was that he liked to admire them, he wasn’t particularly great at making them beautiful.
But the idea that it was —
It sent his mind reeling, sent his heart fluttering in a way he hadn’t prepared for. Because if Sanemi did know, then—
Giyuu held the flowers a little closer. Really, all this means is that Sanemi cared about these things. Maybe he was just as sentimental as Giyuu. Even if the gifts didn’t mean anything beyond acknowledging the day of their union and those affectionate emotions, all that Giyuu could care about was the thought and effort Sanemi put into it.
Nonetheless, Giyuu treasured it just as much.
He lingered by the windowsill for a while longer, gently brushing his fingers against the edges of the parchment where Sanemi’s name was scrawled, tracing the grooves left by the pressure of the alpha’s brush strokes. His heart beat steadily, almost rhythmically, as if trying to commit the moment to memory. For a second—just a moment—everything felt soft. Quiet. Peaceful.
But then, of course, peace never lasted long.
A loud knock practically shook the doorframe, followed by a bright, unmistakable voice.
“Tomioka-san! Goodmorning!”
Shit.
Giyuu blinked, immediately straightening. He’d completely forgotten about his joint patrol with Mitsuri—how she’d asked him to accompany her on a few joint patrols and such as she adjusted to the new responsibilities of being a full-fledged Hashira.
She was still figuring it all out, and Giyuu—who rarely said yes to anything—had said yes to her because he had a feeling that the Oyakata-sama made it mandatory because he knew that Giyuu would refuse again.
He turned back to the room and quickly called out to his elderly attendant. “Please let her in. Tell her I’ll be there in a moment.”
The woman gave a gentle nod and bowed before shuffling off. Giyuu exhaled through his nose and carefully moved the flowers further from view, tucking them into a corner of the windowsill. Not hidden, exactly—he wasn’t ashamed, he just… wasn’t ready to share. Not yet.
He gently placed the handkerchief inside a piece of furniture nearest to him, folding it carefully and patting it as a promise that he would come back for it.
By the time Mitsuri burst into the room, all bright eyes and a scent like wild sakura in bloom, Giyuu was pulling on his haori without haste lest he reveals his flustered and unready state. She was already bouncing in place, scanning his living space with an infectious grin.
“Your house is so cozy, Tomioka-san!” she chirped, hands clasped together as she spun lightly on her feet. He offered a small nod, lips twitching with a hint of a smile. “Thanks.”
Giyuu doubted that Mitsuri wasn’t being genuine because she was always genuine—in a good way. He didn’t think she was being polite for politeness’s sake—her scent was open, earnest. That was one of the things he appreciated about her. Mitsuri never lied with her scent, and that made her easier to be around.
But then her excited wandering eyes caught something.
The hydrangeas.
He watched as her gaze landed on them, just for a heartbeat. She visibly stiffened, her smile faltering ever so slightly. Her pupils widened just a little. It was brief, but noticeable—at least to Giyuu.
Still, she recovered quickly, voice a little higher than before as she said, “Those are beautiful hydrangeas, Tomioka-san.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I suppose they are,” he murmured, not giving much away.
There was a flicker of something in her eyes—understanding? Surprise? Giyuu couldn’t quite tell. But it vanished quickly, swallowed up by her usual cheerful glow.
He didn’t think much of her momentary pause. Maybe she was just genuinely taken aback by how pretty the flowers were. They were striking, after all. Even Giyuu could admit that. And if he noticed their beauty right away, someone as attuned to beauty as Mitsuri surely would too.
Still, as they stepped out of his estate and made their way down the path for their patrol, Giyuu couldn’t help but glance back—just once—toward the window. Where a small bundle of blue hydrangeas sat, half-glowing in the afternoon sun.
And even as Mitsuri chattered beside him, he realized he was still thinking about him.
Further along the path of their patrol, as Giyuu earnestly tried to offer Mitsuri a broader, more grounded perspective of what it meant to be a Hashira, he found himself… surprisingly relaxed. Teaching her hadn’t been exhausting—it had felt surprisingly natural. Refreshing, even.
Usually, he wasn’t a huge fan of social interactions like these because more often than not, he wouldn’t know what to say or do beyond it. It's not like he can’t handle them either, he just prefers to keep to himself most of the time.
Unlike the stiff, careful way the other Hashira handled him—no teasing or awkwardness—Mitsuri was a presence he didn’t mind. Her energy extrapolated to great lengths but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.
Mitsuri asked questions openly, admitted when she was confused, and didn’t pretend to know things she didn’t. Her scent remained sweet, sincere, and vibrant through it all. She didn’t shrink back from his silences either; instead, she carried the conversation forward with an enthusiasm that filled in the quiet without overwhelming it. Even when it sounded like she was talking to herself most times.
By midday, they both agreed on taking a break. Since they’d started patrolling early, it only made sense to stop for lunch. Giyuu suggested a ryokan affiliated with the Corps—not only was it convenient, but it would also help Mitsuri get familiar with places she’d likely rely on during future missions.
It was a modest, quiet place nestled between a small forest trail and a river bend. The matron welcomed them warmly, and within a short while, a hot meal was served.
They sat across from each other in a quiet corner of the dining hall, wooden trays filled with steamed rice, grilled fish, miso soup, and pickled vegetables placed in front of them. At first, everything seemed fine—but the longer they sat, the more Giyuu began to notice.
Mitsuri… wasn’t still. She kept fidgeting, tapping her fingers lightly on the edge of her tray, lifting her chopsticks only to put them down again. And she kept looking at him. Then quickly away. Then back again.
It wasn’t like her to act this jittery. And what caught his attention even more was the way her nose twitched every now and then—like she was trying to pick up on something faint in the air. She would subtly try and sniff the air, as if she were deciphering something and contemplating it heavily.
At first, Giyuu thought that it was just nerves because she had to eat with him. But that assumption was quickly dismissed when she didn’t exactly show actions that suggest she was uncomfortable with sharing a meal with Giyuu.
Finally, as she glanced at him for the umpteenth time and quickly looked away again, Giyuu set his chopsticks down and said plainly, “Is something the matter, Kanroji?”
Her reaction was instant and dramatic—she froze like she’d been caught red-handed. Her cheeks flushed almost immediately, a wave of pink crawling up her neck and over her ears.
“O-Oh! Everything is fine, Tomioka-san!” she said, far too quickly. “R-really! I’m totally okay!”
Giyuu raised a brow slightly but kept his voice gentle. “You’re acting… nervous.”
“Am I?” Giyuu almost jolted at the unnatural nervous laugh that Mitsuri yelped. It sounded more like choking sounds than a laugh though. He knows it isn’t her real laugh because he'd heard her laugh just an hour ago when she saw something that reminded her of a funny memory.
She was essentially rambling, something she did when she was most definitely nervous, “maybe just a little! But really—it’s not you! I mean, you’re not making me nervous! I just—I guess I’m still adjusting!” she flailed slightly before quickly adding, “A-and please, call me Mitsuri! It would be more fitting. And I really wouldn’t mind it at all!”
Giyuu blinked slowly at her flustered ramble but nodded. “Alright then…Mitsuri. Are you certain that nothing is bothering you?”
“Yes! Everything is absolutely perfect!” she insisted again, eyes wide and earnest. “I’ve learned a lot from you today, Tomioka-san—Um—anyway, I look forward to more times like these!”
Her words came out in a hurried rush, and Giyuu raised a suspecting eyebrow because he wasn’t sure if she meant to say half of them. But her scent didn’t lie—it was genuine, bright with admiration and warmth.
And yet… there was something else, something just underneath that sweetness that Giyuu couldn’t place. Something she wasn’t saying.
He didn’t push because it likely didn’t matter anyway. Instead, he offered a small nod and a soft, “I see.”
He quietly continued to eat the rest of his lunch, listening to the gentle clinking of their utensils and the sound of the river running just outside. Mitsuri, for all her earlier restlessness, seemed to calm down a little toward the end of the meal.
Giyuu found himself quietly fascinated by the end of it—not only by Mitsuri’s genuine warmth, but also by how much food she was able to consume with ease. He watched, slightly wide-eyed, as she joyfully helped herself to second and third servings, her chopsticks barely resting for more than a few seconds.
There was no hesitance, no shame in her appetite, only pure delight. It was, strangely, kind of admirable. “I’ve always had a big appetite,” she giggled mid-bite, cheeks slightly puffed from rice. “Even as a kid! My mom said I could out-eat five grown cows if I tried. I even beat a male alpha at a restaurant in arm wrestling once—and I was barely 2 years old!”
“I believe it,” Giyuu said plainly, earning a quiet laugh from her that made the corners of his lips twitch upward. He didn’t doubt her strength, it was unlike anything he had ever witnessed, it was amazing that she didn't look like she had great strength either. Unlike him, Mitsuri’s superhuman abilities were gifts that she earned and had polished to the best it can possibly be. Giyuu’s strength was merely from training and years of being a Hashira.
One of the attendant’s of the ryokan went in to check on them after a while. They finished their meal anyway so both of them stood up and headed for the exit. Mitsuri likely has another stop to go to.
While they were slowly walking out, that was also when she began talking about her hair—how she’d end up with the unique pink-and-green coloring, and how it caused a bit of fuss when she was younger. Giyuu listened in silence, genuinely intrigued by the story.
“I was so scared people would think I was weird. I even dyed my hair black for a while. My parents didn’t like that—teenagers, am I right?” Technically speaking, Mitsuri was barely even an adult but Giyuu thought it was likely some sort of humour. There was a slight flicker of sadness pouring out of her eyes though her scent didn’t betray her by airing out her emotions.
“But eventually, I just decided to embrace it,” Mitsuri said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Now I think it’s kind of… me, in a way.”
“It’s beautiful,” Giyuu said without thinking, turning his head and eyes on the soft wave of her hair as it caught the sunlight streaming in through the shoji.
Mitsuri choked on air. “W-what?”
“Your hair,” he clarified, voice calm. “It suits you.”
Her entire face turned red. She waved her hand dismissively but couldn’t hide the pleased squeak in her voice as she said, “T-that’s really kind of you, Tomioka-san…”
The rest of their walk was quiet after that. Mitsuri was a lot calmer now, a stark contrast to her buzzing energy when they first ate.
Just as they were about to part ways, she stopped him with a nervous, much milder this time “U-uh, Tomioka-san?”
Giyuu turned to face her fully, sensing that whatever she was about to say had been on her mind for a while. “Yes?”
Mitsuri looked hesitant, almost like she was trying to muster the courage. Then she blurted out, “I just wanted to say that—you smell wonderful!”
“E-Excuse me?” Giyuu blinked slowly.
Mitsuri panicked, waving her arms frantically, eyes wide. “I-I just mean that your scent is amazing! I didn’t realize it was you giving it off until we sat to eat together. I thought I was going crazy when the scent kept following me everywhere we went but it was actually just your pheromones!”
He stiffened slightly. “I’m sorry. Was it a bother—?”
“No, no, no! Not at all!” Mitsuri interrupted quickly, shaking her head. “If anything, it was energizing! I’ve never smelled anything quite like it before!”
Giyuu… didn’t know what to say. His mouth opened, then closed. Then it opened again. Nothing came out.
Mitsuri’s eyes widened again as the reality of what she’d just said settled in. “T-that was all I wanted to say, really! I just found it to be wonderful, Tomioka-san. That’s all.” Then, in typical Mitsuri fashion, she gave him a bright, flustered smile and a quick bow before spinning around and jogging off. “Well then, I’m off! I’ll see you soon!”
She was gone in a blink. Giyuu stood there, silent, as the wind rustled the leaves above them.
He wasn’t that self-conscious about his scent but he’d never receive a compliment about it either. Or maybe he just didn’t pay enough attention.
That was just…not what he expected.
When Giyuu returned to his estate, the first thing he did was make his way back to the windowsill—the very spot where the hydrangeas still sat, their colors softly glowing beneath the afternoon light. His eyes lingered on the delicate clump of petals, fingertips brushing over them once more with a tenderness he didn’t show often.
He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but he brought the flowers close to his chest, cradling them as if they were a fragile extension of something sacred. Of someone.
Sanemi had picked these for him —went out of his way to think of Giyuu , to send him something gentle and lovely.
The thought made his heart flutter in that annoying, tight way that made him question everything about what he said he didn’t feel.
With the handkerchief pulled carefully from the furniture he placed it in earlier, he brought it up to his nose again and took a deep, quiet breath. Sanemi’s scent was strong but always comforting—clean and cool with a distinct sharpness like crushed mint, and just the faintest bit of something warm and earthy that Giyuu always associated with home now. He held it there for a long while, eyes drifting shut.
Still, he didn’t want the flowers to wither away and be forgotten. After wiping the travel dust from his uniform and warming up with a quiet cup of tea, he asked his elderly attendant gently, “Do you… know how to preserve flowers?”
The woman’s expression softened immediately, her eyes lighting up with warm understanding. “Of course, Tomioka-sama. I’d be honored to show you.”
Together, they handled the hydrangeas with care. The attendant helped him air dry them first, laying the blossoms out on a clean cloth to slowly release their moisture in the soft morning air. For a day or so, they waited. After that, they pressed them between the pages of one of Giyuu’s heavier tomes—he doesn’t even know how that ended up there, but never threw it away nonetheless.
They were careful not to crush the petals too much. The flowers were delicate, and Giyuu didn’t want to lose any part of them.
Once the flowers were dried after about 2 weeks, crisp yet beautifully preserved, Giyuu carefully sandwiched them between two clean panes of glass. He had no proper frame, but he found a way to mount the panes together using thin strips of cloth and pins, securing them just enough to keep the flower in place.
He placed the makeshift frame atop the only piece of furniture in his bedroom besides his bed—a small wooden chest near the wall where he kept his things. There, the hydrangeas caught the early sunlight every morning, a quiet but constant reminder of that strange, tender gesture.
As for the handkerchief?
Let’s just say he didn’t have to ‘borrow’ Sanemi’s laundry for the first time in a long while.
Though, he still caught himself holding it close to his pillow some nights—pressing it to his cheek, silently inhaling the fading strength of that scent.
He told himself it was just instinct. That it was normal.
But a part of him—a quiet, unspoken part—hoped Sanemi would send him another next year.
Mitsuri was freaking out. Like, really freaking out.
Did she seriously just see The Tomioka Giyuu—stoic, expressionless, emotionally unreadable Tomioka Giyuu—with that hydrangea? The one that looked exactly like the bundle she saw Shinazugawa-san picking out of his very own garden yesterday?
Her heart was practically doing somersaults in her chest.
It had to be the same one! That could be the only reason! Sure, hydrangeas were common this time of year—blooming all over the region in heavy, brilliant clusters—but Mitsuri swore on her life (and her favorite dango skewer) that this particular bundle, sitting quietly and innocently on Tomioka’s windowsill, was the same one. Same rich, misty blue. Same slightly uneven clumping of the petals. Same long, curved stem she’d noticed dangling from Shinazugawa’s hand.
Her heart had practically flipped in her chest the moment she saw it.
She remembered the shape of the petals, the hue of the blues, even the way Shinazugawa had handled them—carefully, more delicately than she’d ever seen him touch anything. It wasn’t just any flower.
And now it was sitting right on Tomioka’s window sill like it belonged there.
She had passed by the Wind Estate early yesterday morning while traveling toward the Water Estate. She’d been practicing her mobility, leaping from tree to tree and rooftop to rooftop, testing her flexibility and travel efficiency. The Wind Estate wasn’t exactly close to the Water Estate, but compared to the other Hashira domains, the two weren’t that far apart either. Plus, she’d gotten a little distracted trying to figure out how to balance her weight when leaping between rooftops and tall trees.
The estate walls were high, but she’d caught a glimpse through a gap near the back wall—and there he was: Shinazugawa Sanemi, standing among his garden shrubs, crouched low and picking flowers with a strange look of focus on his face.
At first she thought maybe he was inspecting the work of the caretaker in his garden or whatever. But no—he was being gentle, carefully selecting a bundle of hydrangeas. He even stood there a moment after picking them, looking at them like he was debating something really serious. Then he disappeared back into his estate, and Mitsuri hadn’t thought much of it until now.
She was not expecting to be met with this coincidence! Sure, she could be wrong and it really was just a coincidence that Tomioka had the same bundle of hydrangea she saw Shinazugawa picking out but there was also a chance that she was right . Probability had never defied the laws of logic and it surely shouldn’t fail her now.
Maybe a different person just really liked hydrangeas and gave one to Tomioka. Maybe Giyuu grew them himself (unlikely) . Maybe—
No. No, no, no.
Though she couldn’t really pick out changes in Tomioka’s expressions or his scent, he didn’t show much emotion either.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She couldn’t smell what he was feeling. She literally couldn’t tell anything at all. Tomioka didn’t even give a reaction when she spotted the flowers on the windowsill!
She’d been buzzing even more than usual ever since she stepped foot into Giyuu’s estate. From the moment she spotted the flowers, her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering. She tried to act natural—complimenting the place, pointing out the cozy atmosphere—but her eyes kept darting back to the window, and to Giyuu, who remained frustratingly unreadable the entire time. His expression never changed, and his scent barely wavered. No signs of embarrassment, or excitement, or… anything.
But something was definitely going on.
It wasn’t like she could just ask. “Tomioka-san, did Shinazugawa-san give you flowers as a symbol of his undying devotion or something?” No way. That would be weird. Too weird. And even if she could ask that, there was no guarantee she’d get an answer. Or that Tomioka would even acknowledge it.
But gosh , if she was right…
Mitsuri was getting in too deep with this romance thing going on with Tomioka—and they literally just met! She wanted to leave a good impression!
Mitsuri decided to journey early to meet Tomioka because she thought it would be a good decision to make a good lasting-impression on her fellow hashira, besides there was a town nearby where she could stay and prepare herself for the upcoming objectives of their patrolling.
Instead, she got stuck, eating lunch with the world’s most emotionally unreadable omega while trying not to scream about the fact that she may have accidentally stumbled upon the soft, vulnerable, something of Sanemi Shinazugawa.
Her inner romantic was thriving. Her brain, however, was on fire.
She didn’t know what was worse—knowing, almost knowing, or not knowing at all.
So for now, Mitsuri kept her mouth shut because good first-impressions do matter a lot. Especially to her. But her eyes? Her eyes were wide open.
What if Shinazugawa, the grumpiest, most temperamental, emotionally inarticulate alpha in the Corps, had picked flowers for Tomioka? And for what exactly? Was he courting him?
It would make sense! Upon seeing her fellow omega for the first time, her breath was definitely taken away. Tomioka looked every bit of the perfect omega she’d heard people describe from all over the places she went to and Mitsuri couldn’t help but agree with them. He didn’t act like a typical omega but Mitsuri thought it only added to his captivating mysterious allure.
Tomioka even had the daring noir locks of hair that shimmered every time the sun’s rays would entangle themselves in it. The very same black hair that she so desperately forced herself into without really wanting it, in the end she was the one who had to suffer the most.
However, any taunting thoughts of her insecurity floated away like a feather caught in the wind when Tomioka complimented her hair.
The compliment echoed in her head and rang in her ears pleasantly since Tomioka uttered them.
It’s beautiful.
Your hair, it suits you.
He complimented her hair. Tomioka liked her hair! The very same omega that had hair that were basically strands of gold to the eyes of society!
And Tomioka looked like he actually meant what he said! Mitsuri was sure that she even caught a slight scent of sincerity radiating from him when he complimented her hair, like he understood the prejudice surrounding those kinds of narratives. It was different when his family reassured her of her hair, she knows they mean it but that wasn’t what other people thought most times.
But coming from Tomioka? It meant the absolute world to her.
Speaking of Tomioka’s scent, Mitsuri genuinely thought it was really, really nice. She’d smelt a lot of different kinds of omega scents before of various kinds from various regions but there was something so distinct about the way Tomioka smelled that it triggered her to remember certain illustrations of the past.
It reminds her of her childhood, memories of summer flower festivals with her family and the familiar tinge of peaches in the air that would always make her hungry. Memories of laughter and dazzling floating lights with the warm presence of her family always radiating from her side.
There was also something else in the mix of delightful smells that she couldn’t quite pinpoint but it was just too perfectly subtle that she decided to shrug it off since it didn’t seem relevant at that time. But really, she was actually just distracted by how amazing Tomioka smelt that she couldn’t help but express her appreciation.
In her head, she definitely said it in a much more confident and composed way where she totally didn’t stutter but alas—reality is always a different story for her.
But now that she thinks about it…the flowers…Tomioka’s distinct smell seemingly intertwined with something else…and Shinazugawa picking the flower…She concludes that she could confirm an effortlessly unravelled major breakthrough!
But then again, probability states that there was no way for certain.
Her next stop was the Butterfly Mansion, to meet with Kocho, the Insect Hashira. Mitsuri was friends with her, Shinobu was easy to get along with and she was nice and she was only a year younger than Mitsuri which kinda segued a comfortable relationship between them.
She was supposed to go there for the sole purpose of communication if medical emergencies happen, but it didn’t hurt to share her newfound knowledge, right? When she arrived, she greeted Shinobu with her usual energy.
She figured that it was better to put off her…gossip? For later since she should be professional right now because they were technically working. She and Shinobu relocated to her office after breaking down the processes to Mitsuri and explaining essential information that she might need.
She actually paid attention because she tried so hard to bury the urge to just blurt out what she found out earlier because, Shinobu would surely love to hear this as well. She waited for an opening, the right time, to show that she was eager to say this information but also had self control enough to withhold it to not come off as distracted or giving a bad impression.
Mitsuri waited patiently, though the tips of her fingers twitched against her thighs with anticipation. She was practically vibrating with the need to say something—to share this secret theory bouncing around in her brain—but she also didn’t want to come off as flighty or easily distracted.
She was still making an impression, after all. She needed to show she was serious about her new responsibilities. Composed. Reliable.
So when Shinobu, ever observant and gentle in her probing, asked while shelving a stack of slim books, “How was your time with Tomioka-san, Kanroji-san?”
Mitsuri latched onto the opening like a blessing from the clouds.
“It went really well!” she said with practiced calm, though her voice bubbled just slightly. “We scouted a few areas together and Tomioka-san explained important things I should remember going forward—like monitoring regional stability and scent trail analysis. Very helpful.”
Shinobu smiled, pleased. “I’m glad it went well.”
Mitsuri smiled sweetly back but her thoughts spun with Oh it went more than well . But instead of exploding with everything at once, she eased into it. “Shinobu, do you remember I mentioned I left early to head to the Water Estate?”
Shinobu nodded lightly, taking that as her cue to listen.
“Well,” Mitsuri continued, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, “while I was practicing tree travel—just experimenting, really—I happened to pass near the Wind Estate.”
“That makes sense,” Shinobu said, shelving another book. “Their estates are closer together than most of ours. Why do you bring that up?”
“I saw something interesting,” Mitsuri said, eyes gleaming now. “I saw Shinazugawa-san in his garden. He was picking out these really lovely bundles of hydrangeas. He looked so focused.”
Shinobu raised a curious brow. “The Wind Estate does have a lovely selection of plants. I imagine they were beautiful.”
“They were! Absolutely stunning.” Mitsuri leaned forward slightly. “But here’s where it gets interesting—I didn’t think anything of it until the next day, when I arrived at Tomioka-san’s place. And guess what I saw sitting on his window sill?”
“Oh?” Shinobu turned fully now, lips quirking just slightly.
“The same hydrangeas!” Mitsuri said, gesturing animatedly. “I know what you’re thinking—coincidence. But I swear to you, Shinobu, those were Nikko Blue hydrangeas. Vivid, deep blue, large and round blooms. They’re rare. Very hard to maintain unless you know exactly what you’re doing.”
Shinobu’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “You’re sure?”
“I’d bet my hair ribbons on it,” Mitsuri said solemnly. “You know how much I love flowers. And those blooms? Same shape, same hue, even the same little missing notch in the petal near the edge. I noticed it in Sanemi’s hand. And it was there on Giyuu’s sill.”
“Hm…” Shinobu murmured. “I’m quite familiar with Nikko Blue hydrangeas as well. They do require very specific soil acidity and regular pruning. Not just anyone could get them to bloom like that.”
“Exactly!” Mitsuri nodded, eyes wide.
A quiet moment passed between them.
“Are you suggesting there might be…something going on between them?” Shinobu finally asked, eyes twinkling with barely concealed curiosity.
Mitsuri flushed, her cheeks going rose-pink. “I’m not saying anything for sure—because it could be a coincidence—but I’m just saying… the possibility is there. Whatever it is between them, clearly it’s not just friendship.”
Shinobu hummed. “Well… hydrangeas are often given to express apology...”
“That’s what I thought too!” Mitsuri said, leaning forward, now fully invested in her own theory. “Maybe they fought and Shinazugawa-san was apologizing? But the other meaning of hydrangeas is heartfelt emotion, which—romantic or not—is still intimate, right?”
“True,” Shinobu agreed thoughtfully. “That’s not the sort of gesture Shinazugawa-san would extend to just anyone.”
“Right?” Mitsuri said, folding her hands under her chin. “It was just so unexpected. I didn’t even think he liked Tomioka-san that way. I mean Shinazugawa-san is always so intense, you know? And Tomioka-san had no visible reaction—but… I did catch a scent.”
Shinobu’s eyes lit with amusement. “A scent, you say?”
“Nothing dramatic!” Mitsuri assured. “But when we were eating together, there was a very faint differing scent that swirled around Tomioka-san’s omega scent.”
Now Shinobu was truly intrigued. “A shared scent… and a rare flower on display… how very peculiar indeed.”
They fell into quiet speculation after that, voices low and thoughtful. For all her excitement, Mitsuri was still grounded enough to admit that yes, maybe it was all just circumstantial. There were too many variables—too little evidence. And besides, neither of the two men seemed the type to wear their feelings openly.
Especially Shinazugawa, phew , Mitsuri does not regret telling a white lie to get out of her patrolling with him.
Eventually, logic won out, and they both sighed with mild resignation.
“Well,” Shinobu said at last, shelving the final book with a satisfied thump. “It might be nothing at all.”
“Maybe,” Mitsuri agreed, though she didn’t sound convinced.
Still, she smiled brightly and tucked the whole thing into a little corner of her heart. Because if there was something going on… she’d find out sooner or later.
And when she did?
She was going to melt .
The trees were bare and lifeless all around Sanemi, usually the squawk of his crow was enough to shake them but no rustle of leaves were heard from the teeth-clattering gush of the wind.
Winter is starting.
Which meant it was time for their last semiannual Hashira meeting.
Sanemi knew that this meeting was going to be a loaded affair ever since he caught on to the subtle change in the usual behavioral patterns of demons in his territory. Despite the faint change, Sanemi was perceptive enough to notice it.
As expected, the meeting dragged on longer than usual—discussions of Muzan’s rising threat, territory patrol shifts, minor disputes—and the whole time, Sanemi’s gaze kept flickering toward Giyuu. His omega sat still, calm and composed as always, but Sanemi had …missed him.
After they were dismissed from the last Hashira meeting of the year, he was encountered with another situation that he has yet to deal with. Which is: Giyuu.
Sanemi didn’t waste a single second. He had been practically vibrating with pent-up frustration throughout the entire gathering, barely able to sit still in his spot and he knew that his responses were a tad bit sloppier than his usual insightful remarks.
He hadn’t seen Giyuu in months—literal months. The last time he remembered being close enough to kiss him was some time last autumn… or was it summer? Hell if he knew. Maybe he was being overdramatic.
Everything had blurred together between the string of missions and restless nights. All he knew was that it had been too damn long. Long enough that his instincts had begun to fray at the edges. He’d probably been smelling like a raging alpha for the past few weeks—his subordinates had given him a wide berth the whole entire time too but he doesn’t care.
So when Ubuyashiki finally dismissed them with his usual serene farewell, Sanemi didn’t even pretend to linger. He stood, stiff and tense, then strode straight toward Giyuu, who had just begun making his way out of the hall.
Without a word, he grabbed his wrist in a firm but not unkind grip as he pulled the omega along behind him hurriedly.
Giyuu didn’t protest—he rarely did when Sanemi got like this, eyes sharp and hungry, movements rushed with that unnamed feeling.
He followed quietly, a faint blush already dusting his cheeks as they slipped through corridors and into the path towards the Wind Estate. By the time they were out of the prying eyes of the Kakushi and other hashira, they were nearing the Wind Estate’s gate.
And that was when Sanemi turned, swiftly pressed Giyuu firmly against the smooth wood, and kissed him.
It wasn’t gentle—it never was, not at first. It was all heat and longing, the kind of kiss that made Giyuu grip Sanemi’s haori tightly at the shoulders and breathe in the familiar, grounding scent of wind and that unmistakable mint musk he was obsessed with that was Sanemi.
The alpha cupped his cheek with one hand, the other resting possessively on his hip, like he was anchoring himself to this moment, to Giyuu .
Sanemi doesn’t want to unpack whatever that implies either. His alpha was practically purring from finally getting to touch and be with his omega again, he howled praises and compliments directed at the omega.
Praises and compliments that would’ve spilled out of Sanemi’s mouth if he didn’t remind himself that it wasn’t like that between them and that it never will be. If he didn’t have extreme self-control that he has to physically constrict his breathing just to stop himself from uttering those praises.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathing a little heavier than before, Giyuu was the first to speak.
Arms loosely looped around Sanemi’s shoulders, the alpha is going to pretend that he doesn’t like it when Giyuu does that even though he always looked forward to it whenever they made out. Giyuu rested his forehead lightly against the alpha’s and murmured softly, “Thank you. The flowers were beautiful.”
Sanemi could feel the motions around him freeze for a second. The loud beating of his heart rang in his ears which enabled him to release prideful alpha pheromones from succeeding in pleasing his omega.
Truthfully, Sanemi was so fucking nervous ever since he sent the gifts to Giyuu—which was all for nought because by the light blush that bloomed across Giyuu’s face, he’ll take his word for it that he loved it.
His ego inflated even more upon realizing that his prediction about Giyuu’s reaction from receiving his gifts were accurate. And as everything that comes with the omega, he would never fail to go beyond Sanemi’s expectations.
Then, a slow, smug grin unfurled across his face, like he’d just won a long-fought battle. His alpha ego practically preened even more. “You liked ’em?” he asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer.
Giyuu gave a tiny nod, eyes cast aside, face warming. “Mm, I loved them.”
Sanemi’s grin widened. “Only the best for my omega.” He teased lightly.
That made Giyuu flush deeper, the tips of his ears turning a light pink as he shifted slightly, looking away in embarrassment. Sanemi chuckled under his breath, clearly delighted with himself.
Sanemi so fucking outdid himself. Giyuu should watch the fuck out for his gift next year.
Trying to regain a semblance of composure, Giyuu changed the subject. “How was your mission?”
“Hm.” Sanemi shrugged, like it wasn’t anything worth talking about. “Same old. Fuckass demons, killed them off quickly, that’s it.”
As he spoke, his hands slid to Giyuu’s waist, tugging him flush against him until their chests were pressed together and their faces only inches apart. Giyuu’s tone lowered, voice rough around the edges, gone was the embarrassment that laced his voice as he asked, “Did you now?”
Sanemi’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no real bite to his words. “Don’t trust me, Tomioka?”
“Maybe,” Giyuu said, his voice barely above a whisper, gaze lingering on Sanemi’s mouth for a second too long.
Sanemi smirked. “Better hold on then.”
And just like that, he kissed him again—deeper this time, slower, more possessive. Like he was making up for every day, every night, every hour they had spent apart. Giyuu kissed him back just as earnestly, hands sliding up the alpha’s back, fingers curling into his haori like he didn’t want to let go.
The tension that had coiled tight in Sanemi’s chest for months slowly began to unravel with every second they stayed pressed together like that, breathing each other in again.
Sanemi’s strong hands gripped Giyuu's hips and pushed him back against the cool wall along with him. Their lips crashed together over and over again, a clash of teeth and tongues, each slide more desperate than the last.
Sanemi tugged on the omega’s legs and lifted him up against the wall so that Giyuu had to wrap his legs around the alpha’s hips to bring them impeccably closer together.
In Giyuu’s peripheral vision, an unsuspecting attendant was slowly walking along the corridor until he probably saw Giyuu and Sanemi making out by the literal gate then he scrambles to get away from what he just saw, something that he definitely wasn’t supposed to see. Oh well, there wasn’t much the omega could do about that despite enjoy Sanemi’s presence. And besides, it’s not like he probably saw anything that scandalous…right?
The omega's hands were eventually tangled in Sanemi's hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Everytime he sees the alpha, his scars seem to increase from all over his body. At first Giyuu thought that he was probably just being careless—hence why he got slashed a lot, the omega was more than sure that a slayer couldn’t possibly acquire that many scars if they were truly skilled. But ever since he found out about Sanemi’s unique blood he hypothesized that it was most likely an advantageous aspect to his technique.
His cheeks flush when he remembered that some of the scars Sanemi had was in the shape relative to getting mauled by a bear—specifically, scars in the outline of Giyuu’s nails from clawing at the alpha’s back. He could feel slick gushing out of him and dampening his pants from just the thought of clawing at the alpha’s back, my gosh he was such a mess.
Sanemi pulled away, a breathy tease on his lips, no doubt smelling the gush of slick pooling inside Giyuu’s pants. "Missed me?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent pleasant shivers down Giyuu's spine.
Giyuu only hummed in response, trying to suppress his fantasies, his fingers tightening in Sanemi's hair as he pulled the alpha closer so that he could understand just how much time Giyuu spent thinking about him. "I always do," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sanemi let out a pleased growl, his grip on Giyuu's hips tightening as he trailed kisses all over Giyuu’s neck, never failing to nibble at his healed mating gland and swollen scent glands. He scraped his canines all over the omega’s collarbones and the hollow of his throat.
Then latched his mouth lower to his clothed chest and dropped equally attentive kisses all over it until the alpha went lower past his belly button and dropped to his knees.
His nose traced the shape of the omega’s mound and sniffed Giyuu's sweet, aroused scent through his pants, Sanemi’s nostrils flared with want. The very same scent he was dreaming about filling his mouth and taking over his nose since the last time. He doesn't even know how he stopped himself from hunting down the omega.
With swift movements, he shoved Giyuu's pants down, exposing the omega's already soaking cunt. He could hear Giyuu let out a startled yelp but Sanemi only huffed out a drawn out curse at the sight of the omega’s dripping pussy. “Always so easy for it.”.
Despite his surprise, Giyuu didn't resist, his hands immediately tangled into Sanemi's hair, guiding his head to his pussy.
It had been too long.
Giyuu spent an embarrassing amount of time touching himself with the handkerchief that was soaked in the alpha’s scent shoved into his nose.
Ever the overachiever, Sanemi's tongue was a masterpiece, licking through Giyuu's folds with a skill that left the omega a panting mess. So much better than the fantasies that he could ever imagine.
He licked and sucked all over Giyuu’s pussy and swallowed every drop of slick that Giyuu could feel gush out of him. His tongue circled Giyuu's clit just until he was desperately clenching around nothing but his slick and juices before Sanemi plunged his tongue deep into his pussy—repeatedly.
And gosh Giyuu needed this—he craved for literally anything else besides the feel of his own fingers.
The slide of the alpha’s tongue in and out of his hole other worldly with added bumps of the alpha’s nose against his throbbing clit, it was all just so fucking good .
Giyuu's stifled moans delicately rippled across the courtyard, “Oh go—right there .” his hips bucking against Sanemi's face, intensely chasing the pleasure that Sanemi’s mouth always granted him with satisfaction.
The alpha's hands gripped Giyuu's ass, holding him in place as he feasted on his pussy. It truly had been too long, and Giyuu was a mess of need and desire. Sanemi's tongue was relentless, his fingers digging into Giyuu's flesh as he brought the omega to the edge of ecstasy.
His eyes squeezed shut and Giyuu came with a cry, his body convulsing as he came on Sanemi's tongue. The alpha lapped up every drop, his eyes locked onto Giyuu's face as he rode out his orgasm.
When Giyuu finally caught his breath, the adrenaline rush of it all mixed with long months away from his alpha urged him to maneuver Sanemi so that he was the one leaning against the wall.
Like Sanemi moments ago, Giyuu also got on his knees. He tried not to stumble because his pants were still pooled around his ankles which he didn’t want to bother to take off as of the moment. The rough feel of dirt at his knees isn’t enough to deter Giyuu from doing this.
He doesn’t want to think about how long it’s been since he last did this—he had a little bit of adrenaline courage anyway.
And besides—he always heard praises, there was not even a hint of complaint.
Before Sanemi could even react or say something—
His eyes locked onto Sanemi's bulge. "Your turn," he said, his voice husky with desire and want.
He efficiently unbuckled Sanemi's pants with eager hands, pulling his cock out with the same eagerness. The alpha's cock was hard and ready, the tip glistening with precum. The omega paused to admire his dick in all its glory, he never really got a good look at it ever since they mated because it was always just about fucking during their cycles.
One thing was for sure though, it exceeded his expectations and fantasies. The kind of dick that Giyuu knows, and has confirmed, that could make him lose track of his orgasms and he would still ache for it by the end of each round.
Giyuu didn't hesitate, his mouth wrapping around Sanemi's dick with practiced ease. He wrapped his hands around the base of Sanemi’s cock and deliberately dragged his tongue up and down all around it.
“ Fuuuuck. ” Sanemi threw his head back but willed himself to look down so he could see Giyuu’s stretched out mouth taking him in.
Giyuu took the tip to his mouth and sucked on it, flattening his tongue so that he could slowly drag it along the slit. The only sounds Sanemi could muster were pleasured groans and curses, it made Giyuu feel better because the sounds weren't complaints either. If anything, it only encouraged him to do it better.
He licked and sucked the alpha’s swelling cock, his head bobbing as he took Sanemi's cock deep into his throat in fast movements even as saliva trailed down his chin and strayed messily around his mouth and his mouth was aching.
The alpha's hands were in Giyuu's hair, his hips bucking as he fucked the omega's mouth. The omega’s use of his mouth was so effective that Sanemi wondered briefly how he got so good at doing this.
Giyuu's hands gripped Sanemi's clothed thighs, his nails digging into the alpha's pants enough that he could probably pierce through them as he took him deeper. The courtyard echoed once more with noises that should definitely be contained in a bedroom, the wet sounds of Giyuu's mouth and Sanemi's grunts of undeniable pleasure.
The thought of it all and the weight of the alpha’s cock in his mouth has Giyuu's pussy throbbing with need and dripping with generous amounts of slick. He reached down, his fingers circling his clit as he continued to suck Sanemi's cock so he could stuff his fingers in him while the alpha stuffed his mouth. The sensation of being filled in both holes sent waves of pleasure coursing through Giyuu's body.
Sanemi's grip on Giyuu's hair tightened, his hips bucking faster as he neared his climax, too blinded by pleasure that he didn’t notice the omega’s other hand clamped between his thighs.
Giyuu's fingers were a blur, his clit swollen and sensitive as he rubbed it in time with Sanemi's thrusts. The alpha's cock swelled in Giyuu's mouth, his body tensing as he came with a roar at the same time Giyuu plunged all three of his fingers into his cunt, effectively plugging him up from having to clench around nothing.
Without any warning but a stifled scream, Sanemi’s ropes of come landed on Giyuu’s face. Giyuu swallowed every drop and trace of Sanemi’s come that his tongue could reach, his own orgasm crashing over him expressed in a quiet whimper.
His body convulsed, his pussy clenching as he rode out his orgasm. Sanemi's cock slipped from Giyuu's mouth, the omega's body shaking with the force of his climax.
“What the fuck .”
Sanemi turned to look at Giyuu—they were both a panting mess with their pants pulled down in front of the literal gate to the Wind Estate but all Giyuu could focus on was Sanemi’s flushed face.
“How the fuck did you learn to do shit like that?” Giyuu didn’t offer a verbal reply but a shrug—It’s best if Sanemi doesn’t know about the omega’s past…adventures, one could say. He’d rather forget about them, thank you very much.
It’s not like Sanemi was asking for an answer anyway because he only began to pull up his pants so Giyuu followed suit. Then the alpha reached for his hand after Giyuu buckled his belt and they walked inside the estate together like they didn’t just give each other oral at the gate of Sanemi’s estate.
Inside the Wind Estate, after the heat of their reunion had simmered down just enough to let them breathe, Sanemi led Giyuu deeper into the comfort of the house. One of his attendants bowed quickly and wordlessly disappeared, only to return minutes later with a small tray of snacks—steamed buns, pickled radish, and some fresh-cut fruit.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Sanemi to shove one of the buns toward Giyuu before sinking into the cushion beside him.
“So… how did the meeting go for you?” Giyuu asked tentatively with actual curiosity. The meeting was their most serious meeting by far, not that the previous meeting weren’t as purposeful. Lots of issues had to be addressed and they all had different aspects and solutions so it was only natural for Giyuu to want to discuss it further.
Sanemi snorted, immediately tipping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. “Oyakata-sama was right to recruit more slayers,” he began, already winding into the parts of the meeting that had sparked something in him. “The ranks are getting stretched thin. We’ve been lucky with the new recruits lately—tough kids, smarter than they look. Not as reckless.”
Giyuu nodded along, occasionally murmuring his agreement or making quiet observations of his own. “The girl from the western district—she’s good with a blade,” he commented at one point, and Sanemi grunted in acknowledgment.
“Yeah, she’s promising,” he said. “Might even last long enough to choose a niche style. Could be a decent backup.”
Sanemi shifted, reaching for a piece of fruit from the tray and popping it into his mouth with a crunch. “Did you catch what Oyakata-sama said about splitting patrol routes again? We’re stretched way too thin if they’re seriously putting the Serpent and the Mist on the same northern circuit.”
Giyuu gave a quiet hum. “They’re too different, similar in some ways and yet. Too…disconnected in how they fight.”
“Exactly,” Sanemi said, pointing at him with a bite of steamed bun. “One of them’s a cryptic bastard, and the other’s basically a ghost.”
“You’re not one to talk,” Giyuu replied without missing a beat, voice flat but not without warmth. “You’re a walking warning sign.”
Sanemi barked a short laugh. “At least I say what I mean. People don’t have to read between the lines with me.”
“That’s not always a good thing.”
“Maybe not,” Sanemi admitted, then squinted sideways at him. “But it gets things done. Besides, you were unusually vocal today.”
Giyuu blinked. “Was I?”
“You spoke three times.”
“…It was relevant.”
“It was sexy.”
Giyuu turned his head to give him a flat look, cheeks dusted with the faintest pink. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m observant,” Sanemi said, grinning. “You disagreed with Kanroji about the mountain defenses, and you raised your voice when Obanai questioned the patrol gaps near the southern forests.”
Raising his voice in Giyuu standards was equivalent to nothing more than his normal volume but with added emphasis on every word, nothing too spectacular but it was visible enough to make an impact to support his claim.
“I only ‘ raised my voice ’ because he was wrong,” Giyuu muttered.
“Still counts.”
Giyuu sighed, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “He said the Southern patrols were unproductive. I’ve been there. The demons aren’t moving in large groups anymore, but the scent of blood is still in the soil. Something’s nesting.”
Sanemi’s grin faded a bit. “Yeah… I’ve been feeling that too. Like something’s holding its breath under there.” But it didn’t take long before Sanemi, true to form, started venting.
“And Uzui—fucking Uzui,” he said, leaning forward like the frustration was too much to sit still with. “Acts like he’s doing us all a favor by showing up at all. Could’ve gone without his three-hour update on his flashy bullshit.”
Giyuu gave a quiet sigh but didn’t interrupt.
“And then there’s Obanai,” Sanemi went on, voice sharpening like the edge of a blade. “I swear, one of these days, I’ll fucking strangle him and his snake. If he was better at reading people—”
“Sanemi,” Giyuu interrupted, voice dry as he rolled his eyes, “it’s okay. He’s still new to all of this.”
“—he doesn’t even talk unless it’s to disrespect you,” Sanemi snapped, ignoring the interruption entirely. “I don’t know what the fuck his problem is, acting like he’s already got seniority or something—Fine, whatever,” he finished with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, crossing his arms with a huff.
Giyuu raised a calm eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That’s all you paid attention to in the meeting?”
“Who do you think I am?” Sanemi scoffed. “Of course not. It’s fucking off-putting that Muzan isn’t feeding us his Lower Moons when he was always so desperate to throw ’em at us. We haven’t even had a solid sighting of those little shits since last spring.”
Giyuu’s expression grew more serious. He leaned slightly forward, fingers brushing the rim of his teacup. “It is quite peculiar. I don’t doubt that Oyakata-sama is right about him being more… precise lately.”
“You saying he’s finally using his brain for tactics or some shit?” Sanemi asked, lips curled in a half-sneer, half-grimace.
“I’m not sure,” Giyuu replied, brows furrowing slightly. “All I feel is that he’s taking care of something else. Something besides us.”
“Promising enough to catch the fucker’s attention, huh?”
“Something like that.” Giyuu nodded slowly. “Muzan’s waiting.”
Sanemi looked at him. “For what?”
“I don’t know.” Giyuu’s eyes were dark, unreadable as ever, but his voice was steady. “But he’s planning something. Something worse than throwing Lower Moons at us just for fun.”
Sanemi clicked his tongue. “Guess that’s why we were all called in, huh? Last meeting of the year and Oyakata-sama already looks like he’s ten steps ahead of the grave.”
“He always does,” Giyuu said softly.
They both fell quiet, not needing to voice what lingered between those words: that this year could be the year. That the tides might change. That not all of them would survive whatever came next.
A contemplating silence nestled between them once more, this time with the lingering issues they tackled in the meeting earlier. Giyuu genuinely thought that something is keeping Muzan preoccupied which resulted in them getting his divided attention. If only they knew what it was though.
After a moment, Sanemi leaned back with a grunt. “Still think Obanai’s an ass, though.”
“You say that about everyone.”
“No, I don’t.”
Giyuu turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing.
“…Okay, most people,” Sanemi conceded.
“Mm.”
“You don’t count,” Sanemi added, casually. “You’re my omega.”
Giyuu stared at him. “That’s not how that works.”
“It is now.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Yeah,” Sanemi said, smirking. “But you still came home with me.”
Giyuu didn’t reply to that. He just reached over, picked up a slice of fruit from the tray, and popped it into Sanemi’s mouth to shut him up.
It worked—for a full ten seconds.
“You should’ve seen the way I’ve been these past months,” he muttered, voice low and ragged with unspoken longing. “I’ve been a fucking menace without you.”
Giyuu will never say this outloud but he kinda liked that Sanemi was frustrated that they couldn’t see each other. It made him delighted in the best way.
Giyuu tilted his head just slightly, enough to meet his gaze. “I noticed,” he murmured, lips tugging into something that was not quite a smile—but it was close. “Kanroji told me she cancelled patrolling with you because she was scared of your whole…alpha thing going on.”
“What the fuck? She told me she caught a cold!”
“And you actually believed it?”
“Colds are usually around throughout the seasons so I didn’t think—Fuck. Why did I believe her?”
The omega giggled. Sanemi tried to defend himself as always, his ego needing repair probably, “That’s besides the point—”
Giyuu rolled his eyes playfully before asking, “What’s your point then?”
Sanemi faced Giyuu and took his time studying the omega’s face, his sweeping gaze was more serious this time. He muttered quietly, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just biology bullshitting me again.”
“Forcing you to see your mate?”
“Forcing me to see my mate and fuck him.”
Giyuu froze at that, he could briefly feel the small drip of slick pouring out of him again .
Sanemi huffed out an annoyed sigh and leaned on his arms placed behind his back. There was an odd tension that wrapped around them that could only come from situations that led to sex .
Despite that, Giyuu could feel excitement rushing in his blood vessels, his heart rate was picking up with anticipation. His omega was essentially forcing him to throw himself all over Sanemi’s lap right now.
Before Giyuu could embarrass himself and unwillingly let out pheromones that suggested his arousal—Giyuu gulped before saying “Should we…do something about it?”
Then with a newfound bravery, he placed his hand on Sanemi's thigh, dangerously close to his aching erection and tightening pants. He was going to blame his inner omega if Sanemi was going to swat it away anyway.
He had never seen Sanemi turn to face him so fast, he met the omega’s unreadable face as always with wide eyes. “What?”
“You know I hate it when I have to repeat myself.” Giyuu’s fingers slowly crawled up Sanemi’s thigh. Sanemi stopped his hand. He thought that he misread their entire situation, and that Sanemi didn’t just verbally confirm he wanted for them to fuck when he stopped his hand from going any further but—
Giyuu was mistaken because in a flash of movements the very same hand that was placed on Sanemi’s thigh was now pinned against the floor. The alpha was above him in an instant, Giyuu could smell intense arousal leaking from the alpha in barely there whisps, as if he were also trying to supress the way Giyuu makes him feel.
The bond seemed to agree with the omega’s conclusion because it lively throbbed on his neck. Sanemi’s face was close to Giyuu’s, the kind of closeness that usually meant that every inch of Giyuu’s mouth was going to get traced and that his lips were going to be wrecked.
Giyuu’s legs were between Sanemi’s hips, caging him in just in case the alpha chickened out. And—maybe it's to stop Giyuu from backing out too because sex during their cycles is way different from sex when they’re both fully sober and aware of what they’re doing.
It was easy to pass off the feelings he felt when he was in heat, but right now? His mind was racing. The feel of the alpha’s lips never met with Giyuu’s when it should’ve been there by now because Sanemi pulled away.
Sanemi was trying not to stutter and give into the lust that heavily consisted of both of their extremely aroused pheromones in the room. “Fuck—Giyuu, we can’t go back if we do this. We shouldn’t—”
Giyuu knows this and he understands but he was too far gone now that he felt Sanemi’s erection pressing on his thigh. His omega was rushing him to get it inside him already—
“I know, okay? But—”
“There shouldn’t even be a but .” Sanemi briefly shook his head as he said the words, trying to keep a clear mind from the tempting haze draping around them.
“But, I think…I don’t want to stop.” Giyuu was firm on his words.
“We should still stop–”
“I know you don’t want to stop either.”
It didn't take long for Sanemi to push Giyuu down the floor even more if that was possible.
They were supposed to be eating the snacks Sanemi’s attendants prepared for them because it would be rude not to but instead, the windows were now shut and Giyuu was back was against the tatami mat, the back of his thigh were thrown over Sanemi’s side and his other leg was placed over the alpha’s shoulder.
It was a good decision to ignore eating for now because sex with Sanemi felt so much better than he remembered because he wasn’t heat drunk nor exposed to strong alpha pheromones from ruts—lines were no longer blurry and instead he felt every vein and slide of skin that they share.
He’s more aware of the noises that escape his mouth, the grunts and groans of Sanemi’s own pleasured sounds. Giyuu can’t quiet down the reprimands of his inner omega of how he could’ve had this sooner.
How he could’ve had this outside of his heats during nights where he desperately gets himself off only for it to feel unsatisfactory in the end, wishing that it was the alpha’s cock sliding in and out of him instead of his fingers.
Giyuu didn’t care about that right now though because he was getting fucked good and that was all that mattered.
The both of them weren’t even fully naked, Giyuu’s pants were barely hanging around one of his ankles, his top uniform was unbuttoned vigorously by Sanemi earlier, Giyuu is sure that a few buttons popped off. He can’t even call what Sanemi did unbuttoning because he essentially ripped it off.
The alpha’s voice was gruff, just how Giyuu liked it. “I fucking love it when you’re always so fucking wet for me.” No further preparation was needed because Giyuu was still slick from their earlier activities, besides he was really interested in knowing how Sanemi’s knot felt when he’s conscious enough to feel it, without his heat making him rabid for it.
“And you fucking love my knot don’t you?” Giyuu nodded frantically broken chants of ‘yes’ spilling from his mouth. Sanemi’s thrusts were purposeful and it hit everything that Giyuu wanted him to hit.
“Yeah? Show me.” Once Sanemi finally lets him feel the first feeling of a knot forming inside him, Giyuu’s eyes widened and his mind automatically supplied one word over and over again until it was all that he could hear and all that his inner omega chanted in his way too aware brain— pupspupspupspups —
Giyuu knew that it was wrong to think about that but nothing could stop him from agreeing to it and meeting each and every one of Sanemi’s thrusts despite his iron grip on Giyuu’s thigh and hip.
His omega was encouraging him to do it too, he encouraged him to bear his neck and please his alpha so that he could give them babies.
Oh my gosh, babies .
That thought sounded so good to Giyuu which was crazy because there was going to be no way that he and Sanemi were going to have children together.
But that dream wasn’t far from Giyuu’s own desires.
Giyuu’s own dreams to have a family in a demon free world was something he’d always been thinking about. So that he could give them the life that he always wanted, the happiness that they would deserve.
Oh the things Giyuu would do to achieve that. Even if it meant doing it early on so that nothing else could get in his way from this dream that he’s building for himself and for humanity.
His moans grew higher in pitch, a common indicator that he was close to his climax. It took everything in his power not to verbalize the repeated chanting of his inner omega consisting of pupspupspupspupspups—.
In fact, Giyuu had been trying his best in holding this down for a while now, he was practically strangling his inner omega to just shut up with the pup thing already.
Yes, Giyuu most definitely wants pups anyway, he’d long decided on that. It was literally one of his motivations for riding the world of demons. But this wasn’t exactly the right moment or timeline for him to have them.
It was a dream that he needed to be patient with. He’d never thought that Sanemi would be that person he would spend his life with but Giyuu doesn’t exactly mind it either.
And there’s that whole thing where they have to actually talk about having babies together that Giyuu doesn’t want to talk about ever .
Regardless of what might happen, that was a problem future Giyuu would have to deal with. Right now, all he can care about is taking the alpha’s knot raw. Giyuu had his fair share of escapades with alpha’s before but nothing could come close to the immense pleasure that only Sanemi could make him feel.
The only big and fat knot he doesn’t mind plugging him up all day and all night long. Giyuu arches his back in a beautiful curve to show how much he fucking loved to take the alpha’s knot as Sanemi grips his hips tighter and lifts it up slightly so he can hit Giyuu even deeper.
Sanemi leaned forward to bite and suck at his neck, likely satisfied with Giyuu submitting himself, he moved downward, closing his lips around one of Giyuu’s nipples and sucked on it while he pinched the other one.
Then the alpha quickly moved his hand between them and rubbed messily using his thumb on Giyuu's clit.
A few more sloppy thrusts and the bumps of Sanemi’s fingers on Giyuu’s clit was enough to send them both towards the edge. Giyuu squirted on Sanemi’s knot, he could feel his juices trickling around the alpha’s cock.
The alpha’s load was securely stuffed in Giyuu’s pussy with no means of escape—as much as he loves the feel of Sanemi’s load oozing out of him—he might like this better.
“You better not fuckin’ regret this, Giyuu.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
They breathed exhaustedly facing each other, perhaps this was too much excitement in one day for them, considering neither is in their cycles. There were never many words exchanged in moments like these between them anyway. There was no need for that.
Instead, they scooted closer together, it didn’t matter that their clothes were barely on them anymore and they were essentially half naked on the tatami mat. Their eyes neither closed nor eventually fluttered shut but they both found that they didn’t mind it at all.
Another unspoken rule was broken between them yet again.
Finally, after what felt like a small eternity of just existing beside each other with nowhere to go but to face the consequences because they were tied together by the alpha’s knot, Sanemi was the first to break the silence, his voice soft but clear, like the quiet ripple of water over stone.
“Sorry for your bruises, by the way.”
Giyuu scoffed, “Have you seen your back?”
Sanemi raised an eyebrow before finally clicking it into place and chuckled. “Fair point. Are you still hungry?”
“Yes, actually.”
Once Sanemi’s knot finally went down, the sun wasn’t at the center of the sky anymore, it was almost dipping into the horizon, bathing the room in golden rays.
Sanemi sat with one leg lazily bent, elbow propped against his knee as he watched Giyuu across the quiet room. The air had stilled sometime after their talk about patrols and demons and after crossing a line they can’t go back to—one of those rare silences that wasn’t awkward, just… expectant.
He stared at the curve of Giyuu’s jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, the way his lips parted slightly when he was thinking.
It had been gnawing at him for a long time now. The way Giyuu shut down in every meeting. The way he folded in on himself like he didn’t want to be there—like he wanted to be invisible. It wasn’t new. Giyuu had always been that way. Distant. Quiet. Polite, but cold. Something that Sanemi can’t quite decipher after all this time.
He was only certain by now that that wasn’t really Giyuu—at least, not all of him. It used to piss him off that Giyuu carried an air of being high and mighty when he would distance himself. But that was before Sanemi got to truly know him.
He didn’t act detached and unresponsive with Sanemi. It’s not like Giyuu was a whole other person when they were together, their interactions just carried a neutral atmosphere compared to when they’re with the other Hahsira’s.
So finally, he broke the silence.
“…Hey.”
Giyuu looked up, meeting his eyes briefly before dropping them again, enough to indicate that he was listening.
“Why are you always so distant?”
The omega hesitated to meet his eyes which only encouraged Sanemi to press on about this. Sanemi continued, sharper now, eyes narrowing slightly. “I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were arrogant as fuck. Especially in meetings. You barely look at anyone.”
The omega visibly tensed. His jaw tightened. For a few seconds, he didn’t reply at all.
Sanemi scoffed, tossing a piece of fruit into his mouth and pointing at Giyuu with the next one. “I’m not trying to force you into telling me or whatever. Just curious.”
Giyuu turned away slightly and stood, wandering over toward the window. The sky outside was slipping into dusk, soft hues of lavender and rose streaking across the horizon. The light hit his profile just enough to highlight the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks.
Sanemi thought of just backing off since Giyuu clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Concluding that he’ll just have to find some other method to figure out Giyuu’s aloof tendencies with the others.
But then it dissipated because Giyuu’s voice engulfed his ears once more.
“It’s just… I’m not great at social interactions. In general.” Giyuu let out a breath, low and almost shaky. “I know. I’m fucking pathetic.”
Sanemi shot up straight from his lounging position.
He’d heard Giyuu say a lot of things over the years, and granted, they’d grown closer in their own quiet way. But he had never—ever—heard the man curse before. Not like that. Was it inappropriate to think that he sounded hot while saying it?
He rested his palm on the window frame. “It’s not about you. Or them.” Sanemi looked up from the cushion, one brow raised, finally sensing that something was settling heavy in the air.
“Sabito was supposed to be here, not me.”
“Who the fuck is Sabito?”
Giyuu almost smiled—almost. There was a sad curve to his mouth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sanemi didn’t know what that meant but his alpha demanded that they know whoever could make Giyuu react like that. Giyuu simply said, “I told you—he was supposed to be the Water Hashira. Not me.”
“…Why isn’t he?”
Giyuu turned his head slightly, still not facing Sanemi. “He died saving me from a demon. During our final selection.”
The silence after that was long.
“Oh,” Sanemi finally muttered. “Sorry.”
He thought about how hard it must’ve been for Giyuu to carry that kind of grief in silence for years, saying nothing while everyone else speculated about his coldness or distance. He understood what it meant to feel responsible for someone’s death. A guilt-tripping voice in your head that pushes you to blame yourself for a loved one’s death.
There was sadness pouring out of Giyuu’s eyes though his pheromones didn’t betray him. “I kind of… hate myself for that.”
Sanemi’s eyes flickered up to Giyuu’s face, but he didn’t move. “Why would you hate yourself?”
“Because I feel like a fucking fraud.” Giyuu let out a short, humorless laugh. “Like that was supposed to be me that day because it was supposed to be me . He was stronger and a better swordsman than I’ll ever be. He would’ve made a great Water Hashira. Or—it should’ve been both of us. Going out of that mountain together. But it wasn’t.”
Sanemi also fought off the brief, stupid sting of jealousy. Whoever the hell Sabito was, he clearly meant something deep to Giyuu. Did something happen to them at all? He can’t help but unwind the millions of possible interactions they might’ve had.
But that wasn’t what this moment was about. Giyuu was grieving—and this? This raw honesty? This was Sanemi’s fault for pushing to know.
He’s never heard Giyuu talk this much about such a personal thing before, or say swear words but that was entirely unrelated. Briefly he thinks about how if were the one there with the omega instead of whoever the fuck this Sabito guy was.
“Well, you're here now regardless aren't you? Doesn't that mean something?”
“Only that this wasn't my place.”
Sanemi exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders releasing with the sigh. He walked up to stand beside Giyuu, gaze shifting briefly from the dusky horizon to the omega’s side profile, then—without a word—he slid his arms around the smaller man’s waist. His hands found the small of Giyuu’s back and settled there with ease, pulling him in gently.
Giyuu didn’t resist. If anything, his body instinctively relaxed against Sanemi’s warmth, like his muscles remembered this touch even after months of distance.
He leaned down and pressed a light, fleeting kiss against Giyuu’s cheek. His lips barely lingered there, but the intent was solid.
“I get it,” he said after a moment, voice low. “I understand what you meant.”
They stood like that for a while—breathing together, watching as the sky faded from soft lavender to deep indigo. The silence between them was quiet but far from empty; it was whole, filled with the weight of everything unspoken but understood.
Eventually, Giyuu leaned further into him, head resting against Sanemi’s chest where he could feel the steady rhythm of the alpha’s heartbeat.
Then, Sanemi spoke again, voice quieter this time and pure intent. “Even if that happened… even if it wasn’t supposed to be you, you’re still here now. You worked your ass off to become a Hashira. Don’t disregard that.” He paused, his hold tightening slightly. “You’ve seen things. Survived them. That means something too.”
Sanemi knows from experience that self-wallowing and pitying will only prevent him from moving forward with the world. It forced him to relive the never ending cycle of self-destruction. He didn’t want Giyuu to be there any longer.
Giyuu didn’t answer right away, but Sanemi didn’t need him to. Their bond marks—a warmth that pulsed softly just beneath the surface of their skin—spoke for Giyuu. The subtle shift of energy between them, like a quiet hum of agreement, told Sanemi all he needed to know: his words had reached him.
Sanemi closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the stillness, the peace that only Giyuu seemed to bring him. He won’t think about why that would be.
“You keep looking back too much,” he murmured, not unkindly. “What could’ve been. What should’ve happened. But if you keep doing that… you’re gonna miss what can be. What’s still ahead of you.”
This time, Giyuu tilted his head slightly, just enough so their cheeks brushed, silent in the way only he could be—but Sanemi knew gratitude lingered in that small gesture.
The silence between them wasn’t awkward or strained. It was the kind of silence that could only exist in the spaces built by trust and time. A silence that had learned to hold pain and comfort at the same time.
He didn’t expect Giyuu to act like rainbows and butterflies all of a sudden but maybe he just needed to hear Sanemi’s two cents for him to be able to realize some things he needed to sort out.
Together, they watched the last light of the sun slip beneath the horizon, wrapped in each other’s presence—no more words needed.
This time, the tender stillness between them was broken by the sharp, grating squawk of Sanemi’s crow, flapping insistently by the open window.
“Urgent assignment! Proceed to the eastern province immediately! Do not delay!” it was cawing, shrill and unforgiving.
Sanemi tensed instantly, jaw tightening in frustration. He closed his eyes for a brief second, trying to keep the wave of irritation from slipping out in an angry growl. Of course.
Sanemi groaned in pure frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face as he hesitated to pull away from Giyuu’s warmth. “Of fucking course,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the crow like it had personally offended him.
Giyuu nodded wordlessly, already stepping back to give him space even though his scent betrayed the disappointment he didn’t say out loud.
He let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down his face as he leaned his forehead against Giyuu’s for a beat. “Oyakata-sama wasn’t fucking around when he said things were going to pick up,” he muttered bitterly.
Giyuu didn’t reply, only looked at him with that unreadable expression that still made Sanemi’s heart twist. He didn’t know what Giyuu was thinking when it came to moments like these.
The omega’s hand drifted up to adjust Sanemi’s haori with gentle fingers, smoothing it over his collar as if that small gesture could keep him safe. Sanemi felt the warmth of it more than anything.
“I don’t wanna go,” Sanemi admitted under his breath, barely audible. “Not when I finally got to see you.”
But duty was duty. And the job—the fucking job—would always come first. Whether either of them wanted it to or not.
Sanemi pulled away slowly, his movements reluctant. His hands lingered at Giyuu’s waist for a second longer, then dropped.
He reached out, brushing a knuckle down the side of Giyuu’s cheek.
A quiet, see you later that he never verbalizes because he knows he won’t mean it. Because Sanemi never wants to just see Giyuu later, he wants to see him all the time.
The crisp air of early autumn nipped at Sanemi’s skin as he made his way back to his estate. The familiar crunch of leaves underfoot accompanied him, a soothing contrast to the swirling thoughts in his head. He tugged his haori tighter around himself, though the slight chill wasn’t the reason he felt restless.
He hadn’t seen Giyuu since he got called for a mission a few days ago, and while that wasn’t out of the ordinary for them, something about the encounter had lingered in his mind. Not that he was worried or anything—
Giyuu was… just Giyuu. The very same Giyuu that communicated why he’d been keeping his distance from them all this time. The Giyuu that expressed his feelings and explained his aloofness.
But this time it was with the knowledge that, a line they shouldn’t have crossed was definitely stomped over, it made Sanemi overthink of what it could possibly mean for them.
Yet despite his dismissive words, he found himself replaying the scene over and over in his mind.
The memory gnawed at him, and before he knew it, he had stopped walking. Sanemi glanced around, realizing he was standing in the middle of the path, surrounded by the quiet rustle of leaves in the breeze. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.
Was what he said a little too invasive? Did Giyuu take it well or did he just embarrass himself? And there was that eagerness that Giyuu expressed when Sanemi hesitated to have sex with him outside of their cycles that startled the alpha. He and Giyuu definitely needed to talk about this developing relationship of theirs.
Not that they even talked about it before. It was most likely not ideal that they established rules and boundaries around their bond with mere assumptions.
He trekked on, lost in his thoughts until he reached the genkan of his estate.
The attendant’s voice snapped Sanemi out of his spiraling thoughts.
“Good evening, Shinazugawa-sama. Your m–” She cleared her throat and continued to say, “Tomioka-sama is waiting for you in your chambers, Shinazugawa-sama.” she said, her tone carefully measured while she kept her head bowed in respect. He notes that she almost said ‘your mate’ but he was not even bothered to address it. His focus was now on why the hell Giyuu was in his estate, let alone his chambers.
Sanemi halted mid-step, his face contorting to confusion—was Giyuu going into heat?
No, that didn’t make sense. Giyuu’s cycle wasn’t due for another month, at least. Not that Sanemi kept track of it or anything. No, definitely not. That was just… practical knowledge. A mated alpha should know these things for… reasons.
Sanemi’s thoughts churned. When he reached the shoji door, he barely hesitated before sliding it open with more force than necessary, fumbling all over himself from the mere knowledge that his omega was in his chambers outside of their cycles. He was prepared to interrogate Giyuu again, but the sight in front of him stopped him cold.
Giyuu was sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. He was dressed in a Nemaki that was clearly not his, the fabric slightly too large on his slender frame.
His legs were pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around them, and his face was turned toward the window. His hair was loose, cascading down his back in soft, obsidian waves that shimmered faintly in the light.
Sanemi’s grip on the door tightened as his eyes took in the scene. The Nemaki, though modest, revealed just enough—one shoulder slipping slightly to expose the curve of Giyuu’s collarbone and shoulder. The omega looked serene, almost ethereal, but there was an unmistakable air of something else about him.
Sanemi could feel the tension in his own body shift. The questions that had been bubbling inside him moments ago dissipated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he was imagining the whole thing.
Giyuu didn’t move, but Sanemi knew he was aware of his presence. The omega always seemed to know when someone was nearby, even when he gave no outward indication. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside and the sound of Sanemi’s own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
For once, Sanemi was at a loss. He stood frozen in the doorway, his mind scrambling to make sense of the situation. Why was Giyuu here, looking like this? Why did it make his chest feel so tight?
The tension in the room was palpable, the stillness stretching on as Sanemi fought to gather his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the omega sitting quietly in the moonlight.
Sanemi’s voice broke the silence, his tone sharp but with no real malice as he finally stepped inside the room and shut the shoji behind him.
“Why the hell are you doing in my chambers, Giyuu?”
Giyuu turned his head slowly, an unmistakable pout on his face, his lips jutting out in a way that somehow looked both innocent and infuriating. “Is that any way to greet your omega?”
Sanemi’s brain screeched to a halt, those two words— your omega —echoing in his mind like a gong. His jaw clenched involuntarily, his grip tightening on the edge of the doorframe, trying to hold himself back from pulling Giyuu closer to him in a flash of movements.
Why did hearing that send an unfamiliar heat rushing through him? Was Giyuu out of his damn mind? High on something?
Before Sanemi could recover, Giyuu began to move. He turned fully toward Sanemi and started walking, his movements deliberate and almost… seductive? My gosh , not this shit again. He still hasn’t recovered from the communal bath incident. Was Giyuu doing this on purpose?
Sanemi’s breath caught, his heart hammering in his chest despite himself. The Nemaki Giyuu was wearing shifted slightly as he walked, giving fleeting glimpses of skin that only made matters worse.
The faintest hint of Giyuu’s pheromones began to fill the air—not enough to overwhelm, but just enough to haze Sanemi’s senses. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay grounded. His resolve was stronger than that even if his alpha was forcing him to ravage the omega already .
But then his eyes drifted again, catching on the fact that Giyuu was wearing his Nemaki, and something about it made his chest tighten. Why does it look so good on him? Why did it feel so right?
When Giyuu finally stopped in front of him, Sanemi forced himself to hold his ground, though his muscles were taut, ready for… he didn’t even know what.
“Are you going into heat?” Sanemi repeated, his voice lower this time, though it carried an edge of something closer to immense confusion than off-guardedness. He was sure that Giyuu wasn’t due for at least another month.
Instead of answering, Giyuu pouted again, his dark eyes almost shining in the moonlight. His voice was soft as he asked, “Can I get a kiss?”
Sanemi felt like he’d been struck by lightning. He almost jolted backward, his eyes widening in disbelief, but he forced himself to stay composed. His only reaction was to arch an eyebrow.
“What?” he snapped, taking a step back, trying to create some space between them.
But Giyuu closed the distance just as quickly, stepping forward until their bodies were nearly touching. This time, he wrapped his arms around Sanemi’s neck, leaning up ever so slightly. Sanemi stiffened at the contact, his hands twitching at his sides as his entire body screamed at him to react—but how?
The omega tilted his head, his voice dropping to something pleading, almost breathless. “Please? I’ll be good. I promise.”
Sanemi’s throat went dry, his heart pounding so hard he swore Giyuu could hear it. Those dark eyes were locked onto his, intense and unwavering, and the weight of Giyuu’s body pressing against him was making it nearly impossible to think straight.
“What…” Sanemi’s voice faltered before he managed to growl out, “...Are you intoxicated or something—”
But even as he said it, he knew he wasn’t pushing Giyuu away. Couldn’t, wouldn’t. Not when the omega looked at him like that.
Sanemi's mind was a whirlwind of chaos. Was this actually happening? Was he hallucinating? Sure, he’d been fantasizing about the omega lately…but the solid feel of his hands landing on Giyuu's hips snapped him back to reality.
No, this was real. The omega's warmth beneath his fingertips was real.
Giyuu's voice cut through his thoughts, soft but insistent. "Come on, Sanemi. I know you want to. Just one kiss."
Sanemi blinked down at him, his mouth opening slightly, but no words came out. Want to? Did he? Sure, maybe a little—no, a lot—but his brain was still struggling to process everything that had led up to this moment.
“Please, alpha?”
Why was Giyuu doing this? Why now? Was it because of what happened after the meeting?
The omega's dark eyes glimmered with that signature unreadable emotion of his as he tilted his head slightly, his grip around Sanemi's neck tightening just a fraction.
Sanemi finally managed to speak, his voice gruff and tinged with suspicion. "Just one kiss?"
Giyuu nodded immediately, his face lighting up with hope. "Just one kiss."
Sanemi stared at him, trying to find some hidden motive or trick behind his words, but there was nothing there. Just Giyuu, looking up at him with those wide, pleading eyes and that faint cute pout on his lips.
It's not a big deal, Sanemi thought, swallowing hard. It's just a kiss. Nothing big is gonna change.
And it wasn't like they hadn't kissed before. Hell, they’ve done way worse things than kissing. This wouldn't be any different... right?
Besides, the thought of turning down Giyuu now made his chest tighten uncomfortably, a rejection like this could strain their bond. Even if their relationship was... complicated, their bond was still important.
When Sanemi didn't immediately push him away, Giyuu's face softened, his entire posture relaxing in relief. The omega didn't press further, though-he stayed still, waiting for Sanemi to make the first move.
Sanemi's fingers tightened on Giyuu's hips, his resolve crumbling under the weight of the omega's expectant gaze.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
Giyuu's lips parted slightly, his eyes shining as he leaned up just a bit more, but he didn't close the distance. He waited, patient and unwavering.
Sanemi let out a heavy sigh, more to brace himself than anything else, and tilted his head down. His lips brushed against Giyuu's, the kiss tentative at first, soft and barely there. But the moment their lips met, a rush of heat shot through Sanemi's veins, and the world seemed to fall away.
It wasn't just a kiss. Not to him, not to the bond thrumming between them.
Giyuu's hands tightened around his neck, pulling him closer, and Sanemi's grip on his hips reflexively did the same. For a moment, time froze as the kiss deepened, all of the tension between them melting into something Sanemi couldn't quite name.
The kiss started innocently enough. It wasn’t a quick peck, but it wasn’t overly long either. It was soft and unhurried, yet charged with the kind of quiet intensity that only they could create between them. Sanemi could feel the warmth of Giyuu’s lips lingering, and though he’d intended to pull away right then, something in the omega’s gentle sigh made him linger just a little longer.
Like a flame catching onto dry kindling, the kiss changed. Giyuu’s fingers tightened around the back of Sanemi’s neck, pulling him even closer. His lips parted slightly, and the faintest sound escaped him—a sound that sent a bolt of heat down Sanemi’s spine.
“Fuck it,” Sanemi muttered under his breath as he kissed Giyuu again, deeper this time. What was supposed to be a simple kiss—a compromise, an indulgence—was turning into something else entirely.
The kiss grew messy, their breathing becoming uneven. Sanemi’s hands moved from Giyuu’s hips to the small of his back, holding him close. He could feel Giyuu’s warmth against his chest, the omega pressing against him like he couldn’t get close enough.
He could feel the tightness in his pants grow more and more constricted.
When they finally pulled apart, Sanemi’s lips tingled, his chest heaving slightly. He opened his mouth to say something—maybe to reprimand Giyuu for turning “ just one kiss ” into that—but the words caught in his throat when he looked down.
Giyuu’s forehead rested against his shoulder, his arms still loosely wrapped around Sanemi’s neck. The alpha furrowed his brow in confusion, but then he noticed something else: Giyuu’s breathing had evened out, soft and steady.
“Are you…?” Sanemi tilted his head to get a better look, and sure enough, Giyuu had closed his eyes. His long lashes rested against his cheeks, his face peaceful in a way that Sanemi rarely ever saw.
“Oi,” Sanemi said, his voice low but sharp. “Are you seriously falling asleep right now?”
He shifted slightly, but Giyuu didn’t budge. The omega’s full weight leaned against him, his grip around Sanemi’s neck slackening but still present.
Sanemi stood there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. The events of the past few minutes played back in his mind—the kiss, Giyuu’s sudden boldness, the way things had escalated—and now this?
With a resigned sigh, he hooked an arm under Giyuu’s knees and lifted him effortlessly. The omega stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his head falling against Sanemi’s shoulder.
As Sanemi carried him to the futon, he couldn’t help but glance down at Giyuu’s sleeping face.
He set Giyuu down gently, pulling the blanket over him before stepping back. Sanemi ran his hand through Giyuu’s hair and tucked it behind his ear. Gosh —he was even more beautiful in his sleep.
But when he turned to leave the room, Giyuu’s hand shot out, grabbing the hem of his sleeve.
Sanemi froze.
“Stay,” Giyuu mumbled, his voice soft and barely audible. His eyes were still closed, but his grip on Sanemi’s sleeve was firm.
A perfectly crafted trap.
Sanemi sighed again, rolling his eyes playfully. “Fine,” he muttered, sitting down beside the futon.
As Giyuu’s breathing evened out again, Sanemi faced the omega. He kept a safe distance away from Giyuu but they were close enough that he could feel the omega’s breath fanning his face.
The night grew deeper and his mind raced with a thousand questions he didn’t dare voice.
The soft morning light filtered into the room, casting warm hues over the wooden floors as Sanemi stirred awake. His eyes cracked open, his hand instinctively reaching out to the space beside him. It was empty.
He sat up abruptly, blinking at the futon that now looked untouched on Giyuu’s side. The faint creases in the bedding and pillow were the only evidence that the omega had even been there. Sanemi reached out, brushing his hand over the area where Giyuu had slept, but it was cold. Giyuu had left—probably hours ago.
Sanemi rubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly. His mind was already working against him, replaying every detail from the night before.
Why was Giyuu here? Why did he show up in his chambers, wearing his Nemaki, asking for just one kiss?
And that kiss.
Sanemi cursed under his breath as the memory of it hit him. It wasn’t the innocent kiss Giyuu had promised it would be. No, it had turned messy, a little too needy, a little too much… and yet Sanemi hadn’t been able to pull away. He had kissed back—completely and entirely.
The Nemaki Giyuu wore had caught his eye, folded neatly at the edge of his futon. Sanemi hesitated for a moment before picking it up. He held the fabric close to his face, inhaling deeply. It still carried Giyuu’s scent—light, fresh, and undeniably calming in a way that infuriated him.
“Damn it,” Sanemi muttered, tossing the Nemaki onto his lap. His chest felt tight, and his mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Why had Giyuu acted that way last night? Why had he shown up so suddenly, asking for something so intimate, only to leave as if nothing had happened?
He raked a hand through his messy white hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
After those incidents, Sanemi was so hooked onto Giyuu like never before. This was different from his usual daydreams—
Giyuu.
Giyuu, omega, giyuu, giyuuomegagiyuugiyuugiyuu—That was all his mind could think about.
And he hated that he did not hate it. Out of everyone in the world, it just had to be some omega that had a dismissive unreadable demeanor that was so undeniably difficult to understand. But at the same time he was lucky enough to be granted the ability to understand it, though not full yet.
Sanemi somewhat knows which buttons to press and what words to say when it comes to Giyuu now. He knows his favorite color. His favorite food. His favorite childhood memory. And Giyuu knows all of those things about him too.
Sanemi wonders if their relationship was changing into something more than an arranged bonding but he’s scared—he’s scared of everything that might imply his feelings. There’s still that part of him that can’t open his heart to Giyuu because the guy was such a wonderful mystery. However, that didn’t stop him from letting Giyuu take a small peek into his well guarded heart.
A memory flashed in his mind.
It was a quiet evening, one of those rare ones where they weren’t injured, exhausted, or pulled away by urgent missions because they just finished one. The sakura were beginning to bloom, and the wind was soft when it passed.
The host of the ryokan they stayed at had prepared tea—just green, no frills—and had laid out a modest tray with pickled vegetables and rice crackers. He always said Sanemi had shit taste for flavorless food, and yet, he always managed to clean the plate.
At some point, maybe after the numerous establishments and celebrations where they served alcohol, Giyuu had noticed something. Something subtle, like always.
“I noticed that you don’t consume alcohol,” Giyuu said, eyes not quite meeting his but not shying away either.
Sanemi gave a short laugh, sharp and without humor. “Yeah, I don’t do that shit.”
There was a pause. Giyuu didn’t push. Just sipped his tea, waiting. The silence wasn’t one of demand. It was patient. So Sanemi gave him the truth.
“My old man was an alcoholic.”
He expected the shift. That slow recoil people tried to mask when they weren’t sure how to respond. He expected the weightless, careful sympathy that always felt more like guilt from someone who didn’t earn it.
But then he looked up—and saw none of that.
There was a flicker in Giyuu’s eyes. Not pity, not discomfort. Just…realization. Maybe even understanding. The kind that only someone with their own ghosts could have. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It wasn’t spoken. But it was there.
Sanemi didn’t realize how long he was holding his breath until it came out through his nose.
He waited for the rest. Sanemi waited for the accusations disguised as stupid follow-up questions: Were you okay? Are you sure you’re fine? Do you want to talk about it? All of them designed to sound like concern, when all they ever did was pull open wounds and dress them in gauze that didn’t fit. Hated that the second people knew about his father, their voice would soften, their eyes would search for bruises he already buried years ago.
There were no immediate declarations of seeing Sanemi as a lesser being just because he had an alcoholic father that could only mean he was an alpha—an abusive one.
Sanemi hated being pitied just because of his past—especially when their words could never truly encompass the implications of his childhood.
But Giyuu didn’t say any of that. He just nodded once—slow, deliberate—and let the silence settle.
The silence was something that Sanemi didn’t anticipate to be comforting against the upbringing of his father—it didn’t quite hold the same stillness of faux-pity that he felt over the years. There wasn’t even an ounce of awkward or ingenuine tension that lingered when it was usually the first thing that would fill up the space surrounding him.
It wasn’t the suffocating silence Sanemi was used to, the kind that came with people who didn’t know what to say and ended up making everything worse.
Giyuu didn’t brush it off either like some people might’ve done. That is something Sanemi had come to appreciate when it came to Giyuu.
Sanemi’s fingers tightened slightly around the ceramic of his teacup. He wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling curling in his chest. It wasn’t pain, not quite. Just… something close to being seen.
The moment passed gently. Giyuu didn’t press him further. They simply returned to their tea, to the soft sound of the wind brushing against the sliding doors, to the rhythm of existing without expectations.
That is something Sanemi had come to appreciate when it came to Giyuu.
Giyuu was a lot more insightful and intelligent than he let on.
Sanemi noticed that he just defaulted to doubting himself or not voicing it out. Maybe he thought that most people also had the ability to understand complex ideas and emotions the way the omega could decipher it with just one look.
He knew better now. Giyuu felt more than most people did. He just didn’t flaunt it. Didn’t need to. He picked up on things others never noticed. Read in between the lines without making a performance of it. And most of the time, he simply chose not to speak it aloud—probably because he assumed people wouldn’t understand anyway.
And maybe that’s why, despite everything—despite how much it scared him—Sanemi kept letting Giyuu in. Even if it was just a peek at a time.
Sanemi was intrigued.
Not in the obsessive, analytical way he’d once approached sword forms or the intricacies of ancient demon-blood rituals. Nor the ever changing convolution of foreign warfare texts and their unpredictable turns. This wasn’t something he could dissect or anticipate. This was different.
It was the kind of intrigue that made him pause when Giyuu walked into a room, even if he didn’t show it.
The kind that lingered like warmth behind his ribs when Giyuu looked at him, really looked at him, in that quiet way of his.
It was admiration.
Genuine admiration, wrapped in awe, and maybe just a touch of longing. It wasn’t about pheromones or omega behavior or some evolutionary bullshit people liked to throw around.
More than just attraction and infatuation or society dictating it as simply primal alpha instincts. No. This wasn’t about instinct. This was him. It was Giyuu.
And Sanemi hated it—no, feared it—for the same reason he refused to name it. Sanemi knows that this—was a feeling beyond just that—a feeling he doesn’t have the courage to face yet. Because naming something made it real. Naming something gave it weight. And weight… that meant it could fall. It could crash. It could end.
This feeling—whatever the hell it was—was beyond just attraction or alpha-omega bonds. It was something raw, something deep enough to scare him in ways battles and blood never had. It was the kind of emotion that lived in the hollow of his chest and whispered about things like forever and home.
But Sanemi wasn’t brave enough for that.
Not yet.
He’d tried once. With love that bloomed and bled and broke. And when it shattered, he’d been left holding the pieces with bloodied hands, trying to protect his little brother from the very shards that cut them both. Genya. Sweet, stupid, brave Genya—who still bore the scars of Sanemi’s failures.
So how could he trust himself now? How could he offer his heart to someone like Giyuu when the last time he loved deeply, it left nothing but wreckage in its wake?
Not when he failed the last real relationship, though that of a family relationship, where that feeling mattered most, not when his little brother was still out there suffering the consequences in the name of love.
Sanemi clenched his jaw and stared at the fading horizon outside his estate, where twilight painted everything in the same bruised colors he felt inside.
And still, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Giyuu. His quiet smile, his unreadable gaze, the gentle way he listened, the fact that he understood without demanding more.
And that—that frightened him more than any demon ever could. Because for the first time in a long time, Sanemi wanted something. And he wasn’t sure if he deserved it.
He never thought there would come a day where he’d be dragged back into the deepest, dustiest corners of his past—not because of some bloodthirsty demon, not because of war, not even because of regret—but because of an omega.
He never thought there would come the day where he had to face the inescapable hauntings of his past again, all because of an omega .
Not just any omega, though.
Giyuu.
It was ridiculous, really. Sanemi was a man forged in fire and rage and loss. He’d buried more than he’d loved, closed off parts of himself so no one could ever hurt him the way they once did.
He kept his heart locked behind iron bars and thorned walls, the kind that drew blood from anyone who got too close. That was the only way he knew how to survive. That was how he thrived.
So how the hell did Giyuu sneak past all of that?
Maybe it was the silence. The way Giyuu never demanded his wounds but waited, with quiet patience, until Sanemi was ready to bleed on his own. Maybe it was how Giyuu understood things without forcing answers out of him. Maybe it was that look—the soft one, so rare and fleeting but always enough to knock the air from Sanemi’s lungs when it happened.
Or maybe it was just that Giyuu was there. Real.
And now, here he was—back in the cage of his memories, pressed between everything he was trying to forget and everything he was afraid to feel. All because of a single glance. A hand on his arm. A smile that wasn’t even really a smile, but still felt like the sun coming up after the longest night.
Sanemi swore to himself years ago that he wouldn’t go back to that place in his mind. That place where his heart dared to hope. Where vulnerability curled up beside dreams of something lasting. Something gentle. He thought he could outpace it forever.
But the truth? He was already halfway in. So here he was.
Standing at the crossroads of everything he was too scared to say aloud and everything he didn’t want to lose. A part of him wanted to scream, to shove Giyuu away just so he could stay in control. But the bigger part—the part that was still quietly healing—was leaning forward, inch by inch, toward the fire.
Ultimately, for the first time in his life, Shinazugawa Sanemi was confused.
But for the first time in his life, he might like that.
Notes:
Yes, I did some research about Japanese flowers that might represent sngy’s relationship and the underlying implications of their feelings and such. But I also wanted it to be connected to Giyuu’s personality as a whole including his iconic color blue, and also, how Sanemi sees him because he is SO the type of guy to be one of the sappy people in the 'peak romance' category. Anyway, hydrangeas are wonderful and exactly the flower that didn’t quite reach the “eternal” love or “deep affection" message in Japanese flower language. Hydrangeas because sngy aren’t in that level of love yet…as of the moment…
I also researched about color blindness, it's a common misconception that people who are color blind can't differentiate colors or not tell which color is which but that is entirely false. Just in case there is confusion about Sanemi not knowing that he gave Giyuu blue hydrangeas.
Also, since they both met earlier, I want to make it clear that Sanemi is less hostile or like mean to Giyuu which is why if you noticed that he doesn't have that super hate energy towards Giyuu compared to canon, that's why.
I love love love your guys' thoughts and comments! I will try my best to reply to each if I can in future updates!!!
Chapter 6: not what you wanted
Summary:
“Giyuu, you know that–”
“I don't care! I want you to give me pups!”
Whoa.
Sanemi never heard Giyuu say that before…that was new?
Notes:
Throughout this chapter, the timeline will be closer to the current events in the anime since they are now both 21. Including the aforementioned meeting and escalation of events until we go back to the present, right around the start of the training arc. I really won’t mention a lot of specific details from the manga, only the things I think are relevant for this fic since it's not really the main focus anyway.
Who's ready to get their world rocked??? Grab your tissues, we're going on a ride!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Giyuu and Sanemi | Age 21
Ever since that day Sanemi reassured Giyuu of his rightful place as a Hashira in the Corps, the omega couldn’t help but take it to heart. There was still that lingering doubt daunting him every now and again but it wasn’t enough to make him feel unworthy any more.
Giyuu has to admit that he almost confessed right then and there. The warm light of dusk that hit Sanemi’s face while he said his farewell was just as breathtaking as the words he genuinely uttered to Giyuu.
He wanted to say how he really felt about the alpha and how every touch and moment shared between them wasn’t just that for Giyuu. That he hoped it was so much more than just that .
But the crow squawked before he could even say anything and the next thing he knew, that moment was gone.
Maybe it was gone forever.
Maybe that was for the best.
And fate must really favour him because yet another chance is given to him on a golden platter, they led him to a chance to profess his feelings once more.
That day, he walked in the estate feeling confident and ready. He didn’t need to practice what to say over and over again because he knows that it would be no use since Giyuu knows that everything he felt about him and Sanemi went beyond a script.
His confidence came from the thoughtful ways Sanemi showed affection, with every precise word that came out of his mouth, and the lively way their bond thrummed in between the spaces of those moments.
Why would Giyuu doubt that Sanemi wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings when everything suggested that he was indeed, the only receiver of the alpha’s intimacy?
He doesn’t know what it was but the air in Sanemi’s chambers always smelled a lot like him despite being absent in his own estate most of the time. Giyuu walked around the room tentatively, years had passed and this wasn’t the first time he was here and yet he was still intrigued to look around.
The alpha’s room wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, it was simple enough that it did not show any reflections of his personality whatsoever. But Giyuu looked around all the same despite its standard simplicity, he thinks that in a way, Sanemi’s lack of interior design somewhat resembled his personality. It didn’t look much on the outside but on the inside, the materials are woven with intentions and meaning, much like how Sanemi is as a whole.
He ran his hands over the pieces of furniture that he had become familiar with, whether it was because they’d definitely fucked on this surface before or he just felt like he was studying how his mate was outside of interactions with him.
Giyuu doesn’t know what willed him to wear the alpha’s Nemaki either, it didn’t even smell like him, all he felt when he touched the fabric was this immense need to wrap himself around with it, so he did. Which he found out was a good decision because it gave him nothing but comfort while he waited for Sanemi.
That night was one of those days when he was nothing but sure of himself, a rare circumstance that could only be crafted with delicacy and caution because he knows that it will crash and burn if he let himself get carried away.
Giyuu was side tracked from his initial intentions of pouring out his heart when Sanemi slid open the door because all that he could hear was the persuading whispers of his omega telling him to be intimate with his alpha.
Giyuu debated in his head that it wasn’t even that long since he saw him—but he didn’t deny his omega’s requests nonetheless and chose to indulge in it every once in a while.
When he woke up that morning and realized the rush events that transpired the night before, he couldn’t quite face Sanemi—especially after he fell asleep on him. Gosh, it was embarrassing. He turned around and was faced with a softened Sanemi, his face lacking the signature scowl that people swear were stitched onto his face. Giyuu can’t help but smile at the display, it was always refreshing to see Sanemi’s face without the influence of the cruelties of life that affected him.
With feather-light touches, Giyuu ran his pointer finger across the scar that stretched from his cheek and just, until beyond his nose, the criss-crossed one’s above his right eye, and another one across his forehead.
Giyuu mostly knew how Sanemi got most of his scars, the omega liked to ask the alpha about it during times when they’d just lay together after a particularly brutal cycle as a way to pass time and nothing more. Surprisingly, Sanemi recalled the lore behind every scar Giyuu poked at, he was earnestly impressed by his strong memory.
Though Sanemi hardly talked about the specific scar right at his nose, Giyuu knew Genya had an almost identical one when he saw a glimpse of the new recruits, he figured that the scar was likely connected to their family tragedy somehow. Giyuu left the estate as an act of saving face to be frank, keeping in mind that he’ll have plenty of chances to express what he felt and everything that made up their relationship.
He didn’t get to regret that decision but it’s not for the reason that you might think—
It went something like this:
While he was walking towards a village that was recently attacked by a demon, he caught a glimpse of familiar white tufts of hair that could only belong to his alpha. A surge of excitement energized Giyuu immediately, he looked around and noticed that the demon was already obliterated because a few of the Kakushi were fussing over damages around the area, it was perfect.
Sanemi would likely be retiring to a nearby ryokan—an opportunity for Giyuu to get this confessing thing over and done with before he explodes and blurts it out unprompted. He hastily tried to smoothen out his appearance, a very uncharacteristic of him given that he never truly cared about how he looked.
The fire of confidence never ceased its fire in his chest since Sanemi’s crow interrupted them, if anything it only grew higher and burned stronger. Giyuu trudged closer to the clearing to greet Sanemi, uncaring if the Kakushi saw something they shouldn’t have seen, again .
He was stopped in his tracks by a voice, he couldn’t exactly see Sanemi’s face but his voice was unmistakable and firm, carrying a sense of finality that only came out when he was serious about the beliefs he was most loyal to—
“If given the chance, would you break off the bond with your not chosen omega, Shinazugawa-sama?”
Giyuu heard Sanemi’s insulted scoff. “Of course I fucking would. I would have dissolved my bond mark without hesitation,” Sanemi had said, voice rough and stripped of emotion. “What else does it fucking give but obligation —and for what?”
Suddenly that fire was reduced to crushed up wooden timbers that were unable to hold even a small flame because it had been extinguished by the weight of Sanemi’s statement.
Giyuu’s blood ran cold, he wants to get their bond dissolved. It was nothing but fulfilling an obligation to him. He wouldn’t even hesitate.
A Kakushi, Giyuu guesses, replies in an indifferent tone, “I suppose you’re right. It must surely impact one’s parenting, in a way.” It was the kind of voice that doesn’t have intentions of thinking too deeply about the subject.
“Damn right it does. Don’t even get me fucking started on shit like that, tons of wasted time is what it is.”
“Do you not have any intentions of becoming a father, Shinazugawa-sama?”
“Of course not—” Sanemi spat out the reply like it was a bitter thing—voice sounding scandalized by the Kakushi’s question. Like the mere thought of having a family and taking the journey of parenthood was an unsettling enough thought for him to even say.
“—I won’t do any of that—”
The rest of Sanemi’s sentence turned into a high-pitched ringing in his ears, Giyuu couldn’t hear anything from his surroundings anymore.
He stumbled to hide behind a tall and wide tree to hide his presence from them, his heart pounding loudly in his chest from mortification and the realization of a striking reality.
Of course not.
Giyuu’s heart dropped.
Oh.
Oh.
The alpha’s rejection to the idea of something Giyuu immensely hoped for echoed in his head in a never ending loop, increasing in volume ten–fold with every passing second—
He must’ve read the signs wrong.
Giyuu ran.
He ran far, far away from that place. He ran until his body couldn’t keep up with his speed and the signals of his brain convinced him to keep running. Until his peripheral vision turned into blurry terrain because of the tears clouding his eyesight. Until he almost fell off a cliff from purposely not stopping at the edge because he kind of wanted to jump.
He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t actually true, that maybe it was twisted, a murmur of something untrue but at the same time—it is. It wasn’t twisted, it was actually nothing but the truth because they really were just nothing right?
The days afterward blurred together in a haze of hollow exhaustion. Giyuu’s sleep was broken and restless. He woke from nightmares gasping for air, heart hammering in his ears, phantom touches slipping away before he could grasp them.
Nightmares that seemed so real it was akin to the real thing—sounding too much like Sanemi and causing Giyuu to recoil further back into that same state he was in before.
He was ashamed of himself for hoping and believing that this was finally what he had been looking for. The alpha’s rejection seared a scorching pain in his heart with no means of relief. Giyuu imagined the moments intricately turning into memories that brought him the new perspective that Sanemi didn’t feel the same way he did when those happened.
In his dreams, he saw Sanemi walking away. Walking away from what they’d been building for three years, what Giyuu hoped would be a structure they’d build forever. Sanemi would repeat over and over again that Giyuu was nothing but convenient—a sentiment repeated so many times that it carved a space in Giyuu heart and mind invasively, echoing in his subconscious with every breath that he takes.
He doesn’t understand why he let himself be blinded by such affections when he knew even then that it never worked out for him. He doesn't understand why Sanemi would lead him on like that, was he really just a pretty face to him? Someone who would warm his bed and make him satisfied between cycles? Was the bond between them deceiving Giyuu because the alpha could control it? Was it all a lie?
Giyuu questioned himself over and over again throughout the stillness of the night. He could hear his own voice shouting soundlessly into the void, his dignity and pride stripped off as he begged to know why— why Sanemi would do that and say that—
And every single time he felt the phantom burn of his bond mark as they tore away from his skin until all was left of him was overwhelming pain like no other, sharper than venom and more destructive than death itself.
Even the quiet of his estate felt oppressive now—every creaking floorboard and flickering candle whispering his fears back to him. How he wasn’t wanted by his mate . How his alpha doesn’t share the same dreams and desires as him. Giyuu’s omega concluded that Sanemi must not want children with him.
Was it—Was it his fault? Did he make Sanemi feel that way?
He re-lived every nightmare and facing every carelessly spat word Sanemi in his dreams would yell.
Giyuu was stuck in the same cycle of his calamitous love and insurmountable grief he thought he’d never go through again.
Then came the meeting again, this time with the added pretense of what Sanemi said, I would have my bond mark dissolved without hesitation , between them though only Giyuu knew of its effects. When this exact predicament occurred two years ago, Giyuu remembered that his heart raced upon lying eyes on the alpha. Now? All he felt was numbness.
He doubts that Sanemi knew that he overheard what he said. Giyuu couldn’t look at him, he couldn't look at the alpha for too long without his words echoing hauntingly inside his head.
When Sanemi didn’t change his opinions about supporting the execution of him and Tanjiro, the omega felt even immense anger and grief at what he said. It only confirmed that Sanemi really didn’t want Giyuu, that he wanted him out of his life because he gave nothing but obligation to him and nothing more. Someone that he could easily get rid of.
The flare of anger he had lasted throughout the meeting, he distanced himself completely from everyone. He was not in the mood for Sanemi standing firm with his values and beliefs once more.
Giyuu wanted to lash out and growl at him for hurting Tanjiro and Nezuko. He wanted to defy his alpha, if he could even call him that, and confront him off the assumptions that grew heavy between them. Giyuu wanted to demand an explanation from Sanemi, even though there was a part of him that wanted nothing but the alpha’s assurance . Oh how he wanted it.
He immediately left the meeting after it was dismissed.
Usually, this would be the time when Sanemi would pull him away in a corner and he’d make Giyuu feel good—but that was in the past.
Sanemi grabbed Giyuu’s arm. “Giyuu, wait.”
Don’t call me that, liar.
He forcefully tugged his arm away from the alpha’s grip and turned around to give Sanemi a mean glare before he hurriedly trudged forward, away from Sanemi.
The alpha had a look of surprise from the rough way Giyuu pulled his hand away, his eyes sharpened in quiet contemplation but Giyuu didn’t care to explain. Not anymore.
Not when Sanemi wasn’t being honest with him when the alpha prided himself of being an honest person. What a liar.
Sanemi didn’t chase after him, Giyuu wasn’t even surprised anymore though his omega was disappointed at that. Instead, Sanemi continued to say—
“Look, I respect you all right? But you’re putting too much trust on a bunch of kids and I don’t see how this will work out when they fail. His ambitions are too great and he is too young.”
Giyuu knew that Sanemi would contradict him again, he expected this so much that he already knew what to say and what to show Sanemi. He wanted to show that at least Giyuu didn't put up a false identity for him. He didn't need a script—he never needed to practice what he needed to say because Sanemi brought out all the things he wanted to discuss, except this time it didn’t involve feelings.
“What do you know about trust, Sanemi?” Giyuu didn't hold back with the accusations. If Sanemi could take all of this lightly—then why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't he be entitled to the same bluntness?
Sanemi narrowed his gaze at Giyuu's blunt statement, the omega doesn't know his thought processes right now but he knows that Sanemi is too prideful to acknowledge the underlying issue lingering in the growing vast space between them. “I know a fuck ton about it, actually. You , however, trust too shallowly—”
I do. Must be why you tricked me into trusting you. Giyuu couldn't voice it out, he wanted Sanemi to understand that it was what he felt from the omega's scrunched up look alone.
“Your judgement is clouded on all of this, I know you found them stranded and shit but this is serious! We can’t afford to lose another Hashira just because that brat dragged you into his shit show! Your trust won’t miraculously make her immune to eating fucking civilians.” Giyuu hates how Sanemi just—assumes that his judgement is clouded, like his own state of mind is too inferior to handle societal decisions, like he wasn't capable of making a decision for himself.
Giyuu was nothing but anger, he resembled Sanemi’s never ending rage in a way, which was ironic. “Have you not even a little faith that they might be able to overcome their challenges and achieve that promise? I believe in what I saw. I saw overwhelming potential—things like that shouldn’t be kept concealed. You believe too little.”
Maybe Giyuu should’ve asked for an explanation as to why Sanemi said he would want his bond broken off if he was mated to an omega he didn’t choose—maybe that would’ve stopped Giyuu from losing his composure. Maybe that explanation would keep Giyuu from being hostile and irrational with what comes out of his mouth. If only—Sanemi didn’t even say that in the first place.
Is Giyuu supposed to act like he didn’t know when that thought was the only thing that cycle through his mind for the past weeks? Should he act unaffected by something that only he knows?
He didn’t care either way. Because Sanemi said what he said and whether or not Giyuu heard it, he still wouldn’t have submitted to the alpha’s reasoning regarding his and Tanjiro’s fate.
If anything, what he heard only fueled the intensity of his arguments towards Sanemi right now. Giyuu couldn’t see past the alpha’s rejection of everything he offered him.
Sanemi has the audacity to say, “What about us, Giyuu?” Like he didn't just confirm that he never wanted an ‘us’ between them. He’s such a fucking deceiver.
“Where do we fit in all of this?” He ran his hand over his face exasperatedly, “And why are you always so fucking difficult? Why can't you just be—oh my fucking—can't you see how absurd all this is? Are you even fucking hearing what's coming out of your damn mouth? Belief isn’t enough to make it happen.”
The better question is, was Sanemi hearing himself right now? Was he hearing his false worry directed towards Giyuu? Giyuu doesn’t think so.
“I don’t remember there being an us Sanemi. My decision will remain final .”
Sanemi’s gaze narrowed, he recoiled back in confusion from the hands that were covering his face, as if he was caught off guard about something he didn’t know was possible.
For a moment, Giyuu thought that sanemi figured out what Giyuu overheard, but that was quickly dismissed after his next reply, “What do you mean? Of course there is! Did you even hear what I said?”
Sanemi’s tone was biting, like it always was when he expressed finality with a choice, but there was an undertone of something Giyuu couldn’t quite place. The alpha’s pheromones were invading Giyuu’s senses like tiny prickles of pin needles aiming at him all at once. There was nothing but anger curling all around him.
It isn’t enough to shake Giyuu though.
“I don't think you mean that.” What he said was probably another false sense of care from him. “This is my decision and it’s not changing whether you like it or not. I’m not choosing between the both of you, I’m simply doing what is right.”
“We're talking about the same demons that made your life this way, you’ll still forgive—them?” Why can’t he understand that it doesn’t matter? Isn’t Sanemi the one who told him not to dwell in the past too much? Then why was he saying this?
Giyuu once thought that he understood Sanemi and he thought that the alpha understood him too.
It must’ve just been the wind.
“Unlike you, I know where forgiveness should lie.” Giyuu had never referenced Sanemi's past before like this but he couldn't exactly hold his tongue about this either. Not when the alpha was outright questioning his sense of justice like he doesn't have his own perceptions about it.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Sanemi growled out with fervour.
“You heard me.” Giyuu’s eyes were unwavering, devoid of emotion.
The alpha looked like he wanted to scream a string of outrageously insulting words, his canines were out and he was gritting his teeth so tightly that Giyuu feared what he might do a little. Sanemi threw his hands up in defeat and turned his back at Giyuu.“You know what, fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Giyuu wasted no time to say his own thoughts before Sanemi walked away from him for good. Gosh, this was going to hurt. “You’re not obligated to feel this way about me, just because we're bonded doesn’t mean that you should go out of your way to dictate to me what I should do and act. it was only created to save us anyway, was it not? You don’t have to do this.”
Sanemi snapped his head back at him, dangerously close to giving himself whiplash “This isn’t about—Is that all that you got from what I fucking said?”
“There were never us, okay? You can stop acting like you care.”
Giyuu’s scent was equally as heavy in their surroundings, it was fighting for dominance over Sanemi’s own scent.
The once familiar mint and earthy scent from Sanemi turned into mud and different kinds of overpowering herbs. Giyuu’s own scent wasn’t far from unusual, he was sure that he smelled angry more than distressed, something comparable to rotting fruits and flowers.
Together, their scents were revolting, something that Giyuu didn’t expect to smell ever in his life.
Sanemi scoffed in disbelief, Giyuu didn’t know if this was the moment sanemi decided not to keep up his facade anymore. “Fine. Fucking fine! I never wanted to be bonded anyway. I should’ve just died rather than being bonded to you.”
The words were out, there was no denying anymore. It was settled. Despite Giyuu expecting him to say it, to admit that he never wanted this—it still hurt him like he didn’t know.
“I regret this. I fucking regret you.”
Giyuu was quiet, he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t need to say anything because Sanemi was gone along with a gust of wind.
Sanemi’s parting words ricocheted in his mind
I regret you.
He didn't want to hear it anymore. His bond throbbed painfully, likely asking why his mate was pulling away from him when his omega was clearly distressed?
There was an evident anger driven silence in the spaces they once occupied and in the places their entangled footsteps once marked. It was deafening in quiet corners where they fabricate memories derived from sincerity—whether it be from each other's words and actions.
The once vibrating bond on his neck ached with longing, overpowered by the force of anger and betrayal. This feeling reminded Giyuu of the days when he would trace a finger over the bite mark and dread every interaction they would have.
That dread—it was even worse. It wasn’t even dread anymore, resentment filled every crevice of his being. It engulfed him in ways nothing ever did, not even close.
They repelled each other intensely, like two magnets facing north. Nevermind that their mating bond tugged at their necks painfully sometimes, it wasn’t enough to deter them from avoiding each other. Giyuu thought it was better that way.
It’s like there’s a scorching space between them. They can feel the confusion from the bond between them. Even though it's still essentially strong, they’re struggling to ignore it. For some reason, Sanemi’s gravitation toward Giyuu grew stronger, but so did his effort to pull away.
And that’s how Giyuu acted too because really what else was he supposed to do and act? He’ll just get hurt again and he’ll end up hurting Sanemi along with him.
Long were the days when Giyuu could freely say the alpha’s name and immediately blushing at the thought of him, now he can’t even resist crying when he felt the winds hit his face.
And it’s harder, so much harder to act nonchalant like he used to be when he’s filled with memories that have Sanemi right at the center. Memories where he’s happy and he’s not scared and he felt like he was somebody who was cared for.
Yet, unfortunately for Giyuu, nature will forever hold onto things that actively decay into oblivion.
Like his and Sanemi’s relationship—because a week later—he goes into heat.
Giyuu almost didn’t want to go to the Wind Estate. He doesn’t even know if Sanemi would be there. Who would have time for their mate when they were nothing but an inconvenience anyway? Giyuu thought bitterly, the past few weeks have been tense because of Upper Moon demon’s showing up a lot more frequently—which has never happened during the years Giyuu was a Hashira.
The first day, he decided to suck it up. His pride wouldn’t let his inner omega out, sort of like a makeshift punishment for making Giyuu feel things he wasn’t supposed to feel and make the omega see things that weren't actually there.
The pain curled all around his stomach with piercing strength, an ache he never thought he’d feel again given his circumstance, it was bearable enough that Giyuu could handle it. His bond mark throbbed achingly against his neck though, a silent but insistent pleading as if asking why our alpha wasn’t with us .
It’s not like Saemi would expect him to be like this either because his heat was early—which it never is.
The summer sun is hot, ocean breezes are salty, and Giyuu’s heat has always been somewhere between right on time and long overdue—it was never, ever , early.
It worried him a little because this has never happened before which was why his attendant was anxiously persuading him to go to the alpha’s estate. She wouldn’t stop asking for Giyuu to travel before his heat got worse and wait for someone to take advantage of him.
So Giyuu reluctantly went before his heat hit him at its peak, he essentially drained the bottle of scent blockers his attendant gave him, bless her old soul really. He even wore layers and layers of clothing just to hide his heat scent that would no doubt cling to anything and everything.
It’s not like he was going to pass civilization and towns anyway, the journey to the Wind Estate was short and familiar so he didn’t worry about people getting in his way.
He didn’t want to see the alpha’s face this soon but he could predict that this heat was going to be a bad one. It was in the way his hands trembled when he knocked on the door and one of Sanemi’s attendants had to catch him from almost falling. It was in the way he almost went feral in the head trying to look for Sanemi’s chambers and chase his scent even though he knew where it was. It was in the look Sanemi’s attendants exchanged as they prepared everything the pair always needed during their cycles.
Giyuu knew it was going to be a bad cycle because he could feel his sanity slip away from him so early in his heat—another thing that never happens. His desire to be marked up and filled was so strong that he wanted to whine out loud so his alpha could respond to his call.
The scalding heat he felt settling on his skin was no help either, Giyuu knew his face was flushed red, the prickles on his abdomen were replaced by the familiar burn of a rough cycle.
Slick was already drenching his pants, Giyuu quickly peeled them off and it landed on the floor with a loud smack from how wet it was. Then he shrugged off his haori and flung it across the room along with the rest of the layers he was wearing. He unwrapped the patches he kept on his neck to conceal his scent just to relieve some of the burning heat rushing through his blood.
He flopped himself on Sanemi’s futon, neat and clean like it always was, Giyuu wanted to ruin it.
All the could think was wanting the alpha to be here with him and tending to his needs and take it all away like he always did—
The moment Sanemi burst through the door, the pains and poison of their previous fight was momentarily forgotten.
Sanemi was surprised to hear from his attendant that Giyuu was in his chambers yet again even after the tension after their argument, the alpha was getting ready to yell at Giyuu to get out but his attendant stopped him in his rampage to his room.
“W-wait! Um, I apologize, Shinazugawa–sama—”
“What!”
She took a moment to contemplate about something until she slowly stuttered out, “I-It seems like T-Tomioka–sama’s heat arrived early…”
“What?” Sanemi’s mild annoyance transformed into extreme confusion, why would Giyuu’s heat arrive early? It was never early? Because of their collision of opinions, Sanemi totally forgot that he still needed to help Giyuu through his heats—that they both still had to help each other through their cycles.
It would make sense why Giyuu would be here despite their dispute.
He speedily walked past his trembling attendant to reach his room, he doesn’t know why he didn’t notice the trail of sickeningly sweet scent coming from the right wing of the estate where he resided.
Sanemi wasn’t prepared to see the sight before him when he yanked open the sliding doors though.
The omega was face down on the futon, one of his dainty hands stuffing his fingers inside his cunt while the other hand rubbed relentlessly at his clit. Giyuu’s breath was labored and his moans suspiciously sounded like Sanemi’s name.
Giyuu didn’t even need to look up to confirm that it was indeed his alpha at the door because he could recognize him anywhere. He could see the omega perk up in his presence and snap his head to face the door, “Alpha!” Sanemi only had time to blink before he was being eagerly undressed by the omega against the cold wooden floors.
Sanemi knew by the swiftness of Giyuu’s movements and his own cock already twitching in his pants that this would be an exhausting heat.
And it was exactly that: exhausting .
After hours and hours of what felt like just fucking and the omega’s blunt nails drawing more soon to be scars on his back, Giyuu was finally sound asleep, obviously curled up beside him.
The omega fell asleep mid-fuck just a few minutes ago despite protesting that he wasn’t fucking tired and that he could take one more round . Sanemi smiled at that, he knew that Giyuu was bluffing just from the rapid blinking of his perfect lashes. And just as he predicted, Giyuu’s head fell on the pillow after his nth orgasm.
Sanemi couldn’t pry Giyuu off of his side the moment he barely stepped in the room, the omega demanded that they maintain skin to skin contact at all times. This was the first heat that Sanemi witnessed where Giyuu was nonverbal too, all that came out from his pretty mouth were whines and high-pitched moans in the shape of Sanemi’s name.
The omega eventually stopped calling him by his name too, he referred to Sanemi as ‘alpha’ , his more primal identity. Also—the amount of slick that Giyuu was producing was so fucking enchanting and never ending that no matter how often Sanemi licked him clean, it was always going to be wet after a few minutes.
The eating was also hard because Giyuu just wanted to fuck over and over again, it didn’t matter to him that they fucked through the afternoons and the evenings.
Giyuu was also uncharacteristically eager about pleasing the alpha and offering himself up in submission so Sanemi could fuck him hard enough that he was incoherent by the end of it.
Not that Sanemi was complaining but this was—this was weird because it’s like their initial lashing out didn’t happen, like they already sorted things out between them. Sanemi was tense with every interaction they had even though he tried his best to act collected because Giyuu is clearly heat-drunk and he was the more responsible one between them right now.
The alpha was still waiting for Giyuu to eventually come back to his senses and realize that they were being overly intimate while a big unsolved problem still loomed between them—then maybe the omega would pull away.
But Giyuu never did.
The alpha had to admit that even though he was angry at what Giyuu decided to choose, the side of a literal stranger , it was a little lonely. He didn’t realize how empty it would be without Giyuu’s constant presence and lovely voice.
That wasn’t enough to make him take back what he said though, why would Giyuu bring that up anyway? Sanemi was clear with his message was he not?
His train of thought was cut off by his own sleepiness creeping up on him, not even a few seconds later, his eyes mirrored the omega’s closed ones.
When Sanemi opened his eyes, he was greeted by Giyuu's face.
A startled profanity almost slipped past his lips when Giyuu suddenly moved on top of him in a flash of quick movement once he saw Sanemi’s opened eyes. Before the alpha knew it, Giyuu was straddling him, beautiful thighs on either side of Sanemi’s hips. Sanemi needed to adjust his eyesight before he could properly process what Giyuu was trying to do.
The omega leaned back, arching his back a little, and then he placed his palms on Sanemi's thighs to stop himself from toppling over, then Giyuu lifted himself a little further back so he could take in Sanemi's length.
Sanemi groaned at the sudden feel of Giyuu’s warm inside devouring him when he just woke up for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was happening?
In this view, Sanemi effectively sees Giyuu’s pussy swallowing him whole in quick in and out motions, the sound of squelching intensified every time Giyuu lowered himself on Sanemi’s hardened dick. It didn’t help that the omega’s hypnotizing tight heat made his head spin.
He couldn't even wrap his mind around what was happening at all , too distracted by Giyuu's wanton moans filling up his ears. Sanemi flicked his eyes up and saw the omegas head lolling to the side, his head slowly rolled over until it was thrown back and Sanemi could clearly see his eyes rolling to the back of his head in deep pleasure.
His face is a pretty shade of pink, flushing until his collarbone. Sanemi could faintly register the blooming marks of teeth and bruises littered across Giyuu’s fair skin, marks that Sanemi made. Fuck , he was never getting tired of seeing Giyuu looking like this .
He's fucking himself on Sanemis dick, bouncing up and down smoothly because of the copious amounts of slick dripping down from his wet hole that were falling directly onto Sanemi's navel. It coated his absolutely gorgeous milky thighs, glistening in the moonlight.
It temporarily made Sanemi forget entirely of the issue they have yet to address. He just hopes that they could talk it out after Giyuu’s heat.
Sanemi finally utters a sound, although it sounded more like a gruff grunt rather than coherent words from how far gone he was, “What the fuck, Giyuu.” His hands fisted the futon tightly and his eyes darted everywhere—not knowing where to look, Giyuu's blissed out face, the disappearance and reappearance of his dick in Giyuu's pretty cunt, the omegas bouncing tits—that was a particular sight he couldn't look away from.
Admittedly, Sanemi might have a thing for Giyuu's chest… especially during his heats. He's never had this problem before, he'd seen plenty of tits, but Giyuu's in particular somehow make him want to bruise it, to ruin it because he can, and because he's the only one who can do it to Giyuu.
They never get noticeably big during the omega’s cycles but they do get fuller even just a little bit during his heats though no liquid would come out. The way they're bouncing in sync to Giyuu's rapid movements along with the perked up nipples—even at a distance, it makes Sanemi dizzy with arousal.
That's when it sunk into him, Giyuu was probably waiting for him to wake up so he could spear himself open with the alpha’s cock. Giyuu had been overly enthusiastic the whole time, not like he ever wasn’t . Giyuu preferred to be taken care of and pampered during his heats, he loved taking and taking whatever Sanemi had to give and didn’t demand anything else because the alpha always gave what he wanted, even if Giyuu never verbalizes it.
When Giyuu heard his gruff voice, he moaned a little louder than his usual whines and whimpers. Giyuu groaned in pleasure, his moan even trailed at the end with a satisfied sob, like he was waiting for Sanemi to respond to whatever he was doing.
“Giyuu—” after saying the omegas name, the omega immediately released another long drawn out moan that increased in volume the more Giyuu dragged it out.
Sanemi was just shocked , what the fuck was he hearing? Giyuu had always been mindful of his moans, in or out of heat, it was always a moderate volume, loud but not too loud. Now? He was moaning like he wanted the whole estate to hear just how good he was feeling.
Giyuu’s eyes finally meet Sanemi's and the first thing he does is grab Sanemi's hands that were tightly clinging on the futon and he places them on his thighs. The omega slowly slid them up until it was close enough that Sanemi could feel the wetness in his inner thighs. He made Sanemi's thumb hit the most sensitive parts of his legs, caressing it tenderly.
And then his hands were taken behind Giyuu where the omega guided his fingers to grope and squeeze his ass. Giyuu never relented at his pace either—he was still fucking himself on Sanemi’s cock at an impressive speed.
He made Sanemi’s hands roam around his body, thumbing his nipples and gripping both of his almost flat tits. Calloused fingers touching soft and plush smooth skin. And all Sanemi could think of is how this was so out of the ordinary from Giyuu, he was never this bold, never this…fearless with his wants, desires, and needs.
At that, Sanemi couldn't hold back and caught up with Giyuu's movements, meeting his hips with thrust after thrust, the sound of slapping skin bounced around his chambers. Giyuu's wails turned more pitchy and more quiet, slightly overshadowed by Sanemi’s own labored pants. Sanemi knows that Giyuu was close, so close to hitting his peak.
He quickened his pace, thrusting more invasively and more vigorously in the tightening warmth that swallowed him good, he could feel his own orgasm building up at an alarming speed, Giyuu's mouth was hanging open by now as he tried to meet Sanemi's pace.
Judging by the omegas face, he was about to fall apart any moment now. One particular rough thrust sent Giyuu toppling forward, almost colliding with Sanemi's chest if Sanemi didn't swiftly move the hands gripping the omegas thighs to Giyuu's waist so he could steady him and catch him before he did.
Sanemi slowed his hips for a second, giving Giyuu a moment to shift his balance. “Fuck, are you okay?” Giyuu's hands found their way to Sanemi's wrist, he nodded quickly at the apha’s question and gestured for him to continue chasing for both of their peaks.
Giyuu moved forward again and Sanemi thought that he might be losing balance again but Giyuu slid his hands to Sanemi's arms to support himself. Giyuu was now moaning directly above Sanemi's head, soft breathy ‘ ahs’ engulfed Sanemi’s hearing. Even better, Giyuu’s wonderful chest presented to Sanemi's salivating face.
It didn’t take long for Sanemi to last with that particular view, how could he not finish? A few more sloppy thrusts, Giyuu mouthed a silent scream as his walls were coated with Sanemi’s spend and until his belly got bloated from it. Followed soon after by Sanemi's own sounds of extreme pleasure.
The room was filled with exhausted pants, both of them trying to catch their breaths. Giyuu lifted himself off from where their foreheads were connected so he could look downward, Sanemi didn't knot him but he still came inside, they both looked at Giyuu's hole oozing with both of their cum.
Giyuu finally muttered something after being nonverbal ever since yesterday, “Why didn't you knot me?”
Of fucking course he’d be asking that.
Sanemi was in disbelief, he gave Giyuu knot after knot when they were fucking like bunnies since yesterday and they only stopped a few hours ago! Only because Giyuu finally passed out mid-fuck too! Sanemi was sure it hadn’t been that long because the lamp in his chambers wasn't out of oil yet and the moon was very much still up in the sky. “Aren't you sore?”
“No.”
“Hungry? Thirsty? You haven't had anything since—fuck, I don't even know when.”
“I don't want food.”
Sanemi turned to fully face Giyuu. The alpha swept away the hair sticking to Giyuu’s sweat-dampened forehead and brushed it to the side. He marveled at how Giyuu’s hair was still effortlessly put together. “Well, what do you want?” Sanemi hoped that it was going to be easy since Giyuu was so agreeable most of the time.
“Your knot.”
He sighed. Apparently, not today he isn’t. He was surprisingly perfectly verbal.
“Maybe if you eat first.” Sanemi insisted, it was truly amazing how Giyuu lasted this long without feeling or looking fatigued.
“Please? Why not?” Giyuu insisted back, fluttering his eyelashes and clasping his hands together as if he was pleading for something.
“Baby, you fucking know why . You’ll get sick if you don’t and I know you don’t like getting sick. Also, we can’t really fuck if you’re falling asleep on me, if anything, you’ll be drained quicker if you don’t.”
But Giyuu wouldn’t stop begging for it, something that Sanemi didn’t expect for the omega to do. “Please, please, please, I’ll be good and take it, I promise. I’ll be perfect for you and I won't spill a drop—”
“Giyuu, you know that–”
“I don't care! I want you to give me pups!”
Whoa .
Sanemi never heard Giyuu say that before…that was new? He shook his head to avoid falling deeper into what Giyuu would mean by that. It was probably just the heat talking, it’s been a rough cycle. Sanemi was convincing himself that Giyuu didn't know what he was saying.
“We can't–”
“Alpha, please!”
“No, Giyuu–”
“No?” Giyuu stops and stills from squirming in Sanemi’s lap. He looked up at Sanemi with his big blue eyes that were starting to tear up. Oh gosh. What has he done?
“Yes–”
“You don't want me to have your pups?” Giyuu responded before Sanemi could even begin to explain himself. And to even take the time to comprehend that his omega was talking about carrying his pups. Unwillingly, Sanemi’s head musters up scenarios with Giyuu’s belly round with his seed catching and—
“What–” Sanemi snapped out of his imagination.
Giyuu moved away from Sanemi slowly, both of their cum dripping on the futon and the wooden floorboards until he backed away on the wall at the foot of the futon. Sanemi could hear the omega whisper in a tiny vulnerable voice, “Am I not good enough…?” Giyuu’s sobs promptly filled the room. Sanemi panics and stumbles up from his position when he tries to pull the omega back towards his chest.
Giyuu turned away from the approaching alpha and sobbed even louder. Shit he messed up. He touched Giyuu’s shoulder and was startled when Giyuu moved his hands and placed it exactly over where he knew Giyuu’s uterus lies. He met Giyuu’s watery gaze and extremely hurt face decorated with tears. Sanemi’s heart broke a little.
He touches the omega’s abdomen, right where a baby could form. Fuck, why was this hard? Why did Giyuu have to make this so hard? He grabs the omega’s face and makes Giyuu face him, “You’re fucking perfect okay? But we have a war to finish–”
Giyuu turned away from Sanemi’s grip and pushed him back so there was distance between them once more. Giyuu huffed dejectedly “Just say you don’t want to—”
Sanemi sighed exasperatedly because here was Giyuu—asking for pups when they were both very much still actively in peril, while Muzan was still out there ordering his Upper Ranks to wreak havoc among villages and districts. It was unfair that he was the only one aware that they were very much still on bad terms.
“Baby, you know that's not what I mean.” Giyuu looked away once more and folded his legs so he sat on his knees. Sanemi's eyes widened Giyuu because he’s never seen him like this before, it was always just—submitting and not much room for disobeying.
Then Giyuu turned around so that his pale back was turned to Sanemi and then—he got on all fours, Sanemi held his breath. Was he…was he doing what he thinks he is?
Giyuu made a show out of arching his back lewdly until his face met with the surface of the futon, doing all of it while his siren eye’s challenged Sanemi to look anywhere else but him—
Giyuu was presenting himself.
Fuck.
Holy fucking shit.
Sanemi was mesmerized.
Giyuu spread his legs a little so that Sanemi could have a clear view of what he was going to fuck up. Giyuu even swayed his hips, efficiently waving his presented pussy directly in front of the alpha’s face to entice him. Pink pussy and parted folds dripping with slick, it was begging to be ruined.
Giyuu reached behind his back to use his hands to spread himself wider, keeping himself upright by resting his front body weight on his left cheek, revealing a lot.
Giyuu looked back behind him with deep sultry eyes. Gone was the look of dejection on his features. “So…you’ll fill me up with pups then?”
Sanemi was past his limit, he let his primal instincts take over. There was only so much seducing he could take. “Fine—you want a pup?”
Giyuu pulled his hands back and positioned himself so that he was ready to take on the full force of Sanemi’s breeding “Yes, yes! I want your pups–”
“Then fucking take it.” He grabbed Giyuu’s hips, the omega gasped with excitement. He didn’t waste any time slamming into him over and over again—until his seed catches, even though he knows it never will.
It shouldn’t, it wouldn’t, it can’t happen.
By the end of it, after Sanemi thoroughly satisfied Giyuu's wishes, they were curled up against each other again.
But this time, a surprising sound came from Giyuu, a sound Sanemi never had the privilege of hearing before. It started out as a soft rumble, something that Sanemi only vaguely heard of from various people. He had never experienced it at all.
They say it was a common omega trait but Sanemi had never expected Giyuu to be able to do it because well—he wasn't exactly the type. Because he wasn’t like other omegas, additionally their lifestyle didn’t exactly make it easy.
But then the sound amplified the more Giyuu snuggled into Sanemi's space with their intertwined scents in the air, the way it always was during times like this.
Sanemi froze.
Giyuu was purring.
He was fucking purring which—he has never done. Sanemi didn't even know that he was capable of witnessing such an ordinary thing from Giyuu because he has always been extraordinary.
Giyuu was sleepily rubbing his cheek on Sanemi's face and went lower to nuzzle at his neck. He wasn't even sure if Giyuu was aware that he was purring.
Why was he purring? He didn't know enough shit to know what it meant, did it even mean something? Sanemi was dumb-founded, there was that unnamed feeling creeping up his chest again. He found himself astonished at the touch, it made his inner alpha settle down from his usual relentless thrashing.
Despite the shock, Sanemi was momentarily comforted in a way. It always felt nice to be domestic with Giyuu, even more now with his purring reverberating steadily against his body.
Sanemi put off the thought of how this whole thing needed to be addressed at some point. They’d have time anyway, morning would surely help with that.
Giyuu was gone the next morning.
He woke up at dawn, wrapped around Sanemi’s warm embrace. For a moment, he let himself stay in that comfort a little longer because he knew that it would be over very quickly. He knew that this was false security, something primal to alpha’s—protecting their mates even unconsciously, Sanemi’s arm wrapped around him proved it.
The omega glanced at Sanemi and knew that he couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t stay because he wasn’t wanted.
No matter how tender Sanemi acted with him the previous days. It was done out of obligation not out of…
It didn’t matter because Giyuu knew how burdensome he was, always is.
So he reluctantly abandoned that warmth. And even though he had to hold back the tears that threatened to leave his eyes as he slid the door closed to Sanemi’s chambers, he didn’t dare look back.
Or else, he wouldn’t be able to look away at all.
It was during a routine mission when Giyuu first noticed that something might be amiss. He had just finished exterminating a demon that had been terrorizing a small village. The family he had saved—a mother, father, and their two children—stood by their home, bowing deeply to him in gratitude. The mother stepped forward, clasping her hands as she thanked him profusely.
“You’re a blessing, Tomioka-san. Thank you for protecting us,” she said with sincerity, her eyes filled with relief.
Giyuu nodded politely, his usual reserved demeanor intact. “It’s no problem,” he replied, his voice calm. “I’ll be on my way now.”
As he turned to leave, the woman gave him a warm smile and nodded. “Yes, of course, Tomioka-san. You should get some rest—especially in your delicate condition. Stay safe!”
Her words stopped him mid-step. He turned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. Delicate condition? What was that supposed to mean? He looked at her, but she was already waving him off with her children and husband beside her.
Giyuu decided not to dwell on it. He assumed she was referring to his work as a Demon Slayer, likely implying he needed rest after such a dangerous job. Still, her phrasing nagged at him, though he quickly shrugged it off. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
In the following days, however, Giyuu began to feel… off. It wasn’t anything alarming at first—just small, seemingly insignificant changes that he brushed aside. But as the days passed, these changes became harder to ignore.
For one, he was waking up nauseous at the crack of dawn, stumbling out of bed to retch even when there was nothing in his stomach. He chalked it up to his diet, assuming he wasn’t eating enough or perhaps not eating the right kinds of food. He resolved to eat more regularly, hoping it would fix the problem.
Scents, too, began to affect him in a way they never had before. Giyuu had never been particularly sensitive to secondary gender pheromones; he’d always prided himself on his ability to remain unaffected. But now? Every scent felt like a direct assault on his senses.
It wasn’t that they stank—he just couldn’t stand them. Alphas, in particular, were unbearable. Whenever one came near, he’d instinctively pinch his nose, not caring if it came off as rude. The only scents he could tolerate were those of omegas, which struck him as odd but not enough to alarm him.
Then there were his moods. Giyuu had always been a stoic individual, rarely showing emotion and even less frequently expressing it. But lately, he’d noticed himself reacting in ways that were… unlike him.
One moment, he’d be as nonchalant as ever, and the next, he’d be seething with irritation over something as trivial as a Kakushi accidentally bumping into him. It wasn’t enough to cause concern, but it was strange.
The most unsettling part, however, was his heat cycle—or rather, the absence of it. Giyuu’s heats had always been irregular. He was used to them being unpredictable, and he’d long since stopped worrying about it. But he still kept track of them, and by his calculations, his heat was already a week late.
Initially, he wasn’t worried. Irregular cycles weren’t unusual for him, especially with the physical and emotional toll of being a Hashira. He dismissed it as another fluke. But as the days stretched on and his heat continued to be nonexistent, unease began to creep in.
The thought that this could be something more significant—something impossible—crossed his mind only briefly before he pushed it away. There was no way. He and Sanemi had been so careful. They’d ensured that nothing like this could ever happen. Besides, Giyuu was certain he wasn’t the most fertile omega, given his past injuries and the demanding nature of his duties.
Yet, despite his reassurances to himself, the strange symptoms persisted, and doubt began to claw at the edges of his thoughts. For now, though, he told himself there was no need to worry. It was probably just pre-heat symptoms.
Nothing more… surely.
Giyuu often visited Urokodaki whenever he could. The older alpha had been a constant in his life—a guiding figure who had helped him through his darkest times. Despite Giyuu’s reserved nature, he cared deeply for his former master, and their visits offered him a sense of calm he rarely found elsewhere.
Today was no different, or so Giyuu thought. As he walked through the familiar forest trail leading to Urokodaki’s home, the crisp air filled his lungs, and the scent of pine and damp earth grounded him. His earlier worries were pushed aside, at least for the time being.
When he arrived, Urokodaki was outside chopping wood. The rhythmic sound of the axe striking the logs echoed through the clearing, steady and methodical. Giyuu approached quietly, his haori swaying slightly in the breeze.
“Urokodaki-san,” Giyuu greeted softly.
The older man froze mid-swing, his body stiffening briefly before he turned to face his former student. Though his mask concealed his expression, his warm tone betrayed his affection. “Giyuu. It’s good to see you.”
They exchanged pleasantries and headed inside, slipping into the comfortable routine they’d established over the years. Urokodaki prepared tea, and the two sat across from one another at the low wooden table, the scent of steeping leaves mingling with the faint crackle of the hearth.
Their conversation was as easy as always, flowing naturally from topic to topic. Giyuu shared updates about his missions, while Urokodaki listened attentively, occasionally offering advice or insights. But beneath the surface, the older alpha felt a gnawing unease.
From the moment Giyuu arrived, Urokodaki had noticed something different. The younger man’s scent, usually calm and understated, carried a subtle but undeniable shift. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was unmistakable to someone with Urokodaki’s experience.
The realization hit him hard.
He knew this scent. It wasn’t just an omega in heat—it was the scent of an omega carrying life.
Urokodaki’s chest tightened as his thoughts raced. He had known about Giyuu’s mating with Sanemi. Giyuu had confided in him about the circumstances—a critical, high-stakes situation that had forced the two Hashira into a union they hadn’t wanted. It was a necessity, not a choice, and Urokodaki had always worried about what such a union might mean for Giyuu.
Shinazugawa, though a skilled and loyal Demon Slayer, was brash, hot-headed, and rough around the edges. Urokodaki had never been entirely convinced that the arrangement would benefit either of them, let alone foster any kind of meaningful connection.
The idea that Giyuu might now be carrying Sanemi’s child in the context of such a loveless mating union was deeply troubling.
The older man tried to focus on the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. His heart ached at the thought of Giyuu—quiet, reserved Giyuu—shouldering yet another burden in his already difficult life.
The warmth of the tea and the crackling of the fire were meant to bring comfort, but Urokodaki found himself unable to relax. The longer Giyuu sat across from him, the more the subtle change in his scent gnawed at the older alpha’s nerves. His usual quiet calm was slipping away, replaced by a tension that was difficult to ignore.
Giyuu, perceptive as always, noticed. Though Urokodaki’s face was hidden behind his mask, his body language betrayed his unease. Finally, Giyuu spoke, his tone careful yet curious. “Is something wrong, Sensei? You seem… distracted.”
The question startled Urokodaki, though he tried to mask it. Giyuu’s sharp intuition was both a blessing and a curse at times like this. The older alpha hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly as he wrestled with his thoughts. He didn’t want to avoid the topic any longer, but he also didn’t want to alarm the young omega.
Taking a deep breath, Urokodaki reached up and untied the ties of his mask, revealing his face to Giyuu. Though the younger man had seen his face a few times before, he still blinked in mild surprise. Urokodaki always took note of that reaction—it was a reminder of how rare this level of openness was between them.
“Sensei?” Giyuu asked again, his brows furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”
Urokodaki met Giyuu’s gaze directly, his voice low but firm. “Giyuu… Be honest with me.”
The younger man blinked, clearly taken aback.“I promise I won’t overreact. Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Urokodaki pressed gently.
Giyuu tilted his head slightly, confusion etched across his face. “What do you mean?”
“I need to ask. Is this why you came? To tell me this news?”
“Urokodaki-san?” Giyuu’s confusion only deepened.
The older alpha exhaled heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. “Giyuu, I can already smell it.”
That made Giyuu pause, his expression shifting from confusion to something more guarded. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Urokodaki leaned forward slightly, his voice softening. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Of course, Sensei,” Giyuu replied, his tone unwavering. “But I don’t have any news to reveal.”
Urokodaki hesitated for only a moment before deciding to speak plainly. “Giyuu… I can smell it. I know you are pregnant.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. Giyuu’s eyes widened in shock, and the cup in his hands slipped from his grasp, shattering against the wooden table. The crash startled both of them, but Urokodaki was more shaken by the look on Giyuu’s face—mortification and fear, stark and undeniable.
“It’s okay,” Urokodaki said quickly, his voice steady despite his rising panic. “I promised I wouldn’t overreact. I said I’d be supportive, Giyuu—”
“No,” Giyuu interrupted, his voice barely a whisper. He shook his head slowly, his hands trembling. “No, no, I can’t be pregnant.”
The denial in his voice was laced with desperation, and Urokodaki’s heart ached at the sight of him. “Giyuu…” he began, but the younger man wasn’t listening.
“I’m not,” Giyuu insisted, his voice cracking slightly. “It can’t be.”
Urokodaki leaned forward, his tone soothing. “I understand this is overwhelming, but the signs are there. You’ve been feeling different, haven’t you? Nausea, sensitivity to scents—your scent itself has changed.”
Giyuu’s breathing quickened, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. He looked down, as if trying to find some escape from the weight of the truth pressing down on him. “No. I wouldn’t do that to myself…” He faltered, his voice barely audible.
The omega’s shoulders trembled under Urokodaki’s hand, his composure slipping further. He whispered again, as if trying to convince himself, “I can’t be.”
The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire and the sound of Giyuu’s shaky breaths. Urokodaki stayed by his side, his worry deepening but his resolve firm. “There is a healer I know in town that might confirm your condition,” Urokodaki said, his voice calm and measured.
Giyuu shook his head quickly, panic flashing in his eyes. “Sensei, no. I have been doing everything right. There is no way that I am… pregnant.” Even the word left a bitter taste on his tongue, one that he cannot seem to ignore, like a wound he cannot see though it still hurts him.
Something that churned his stomach along with the frantic beating of his heart, so bitter that he can’t make himself say it because it would mean defeat where he will be left lifeless once more. Something that meant he had desired far too eagerly without thinking about the consequences yet again.
“Giyuu,” Urokodaki began gently, his steady gaze meeting the younger man’s. “If we can get you to see the healer, then we’ll know for sure, alright?”
“B-But I’m not—” Giyuu’s voice faltered, his hands trembling as they rested on his lap.
Before he could spiral further, Urokodaki reached across the table and placed his large, calloused hands over Giyuu’s. The warmth and weight of the older alpha’s touch grounded him, and for a moment, the rising storm inside him stilled.
“It’s going to be fine. Whatever the outcome, I will always be here, and we’ll face this together.” Giyuu’s breathing slowed slightly, though his eyes remained wide and filled with uncertainty. He searched Urokodaki’s face for any hint of judgment or doubt but found only unwavering support.
After a long pause, Giyuu nodded reluctantly, though his voice was barely above a whisper. “Okay… but I still don’t think it’s possible.”
Urokodaki squeezed his hands gently, offering a small nod of understanding. “Then let’s confirm it and put your mind at ease.”
The tension in the room eased slightly, though the weight of uncertainty still lingered. Urokodaki knew there was a long road ahead, but for now, guiding Giyuu toward clarity was the first step.
They wasted no time descending the mountain, Urokodaki keeping a steady but brisk pace as Giyuu followed close behind. The journey was quiet save for the sound of rustling leaves and their footsteps against the forest floor. Giyuu remained silent, his emotions a turbulent mix of fear and denial, but he trusted Urokodaki enough not to protest further.
The small town came into view as the sun began its slow descent, casting the area in a warm, golden glow. The healer’s home was tucked near the edge of the town, a modest but welcoming structure surrounded by vibrant flower beds.
“She’s mostly retired now,” Urokodaki explained as they approached, his voice calm but steady. “But she still accepts patients, especially cases like yours. I trust her.”
Giyuu glanced at the house, his heart pounding in his chest. “You know her?”
“Yes,” Urokodaki replied with a nod. “She worked at the hospital where I stayed after my retirement. Her name is Hisayo. She’s an older omega and specializes in handling cases involving omegas. She’s skilled, compassionate, and discreet. You can trust her.”
With that, Urokodaki knocked on the door. Moments later, it opened to reveal a kind-faced older woman, her silver hair tied back in a neat bun. Her warm, honey-colored eyes immediately softened as she took in the sight of Giyuu and Urokodaki.
“Well, this is a rare visit,” she said, her voice warm yet laced with curiosity. Her gaze shifted to Giyuu, and her smile softened. “And you’ve brought a guest. Come in, both of you.”
“Thank you, Hisayo,” Urokodaki said as he stepped inside, gesturing for Giyuu to follow.
The healer, Hisayo, led them to a cozy room filled with shelves of herbs and scrolls. A low table sat in the center, surrounded by cushions, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.
Hisayo motioned for them to sit before turning her attention to Giyuu. “Now, what brings you both here? It’s not often Urokodaki-san comes down from his mountain.”
Urokodaki glanced at Giyuu, silently asking for permission to speak. When the younger man gave a hesitant nod, Urokodaki cleared his throat. “Hisayo, we need your expertise. I believe Giyuu may be… with child.”
Hisayo’s eyes widened slightly, but her expression quickly shifted to one of professional concern. “I see. And have you been experiencing any symptoms, young man?”
Giyuu hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “I… I’m not sure. I’ve been feeling nauseous and sensitive to scents, but… I thought it was just stress or something else.”
Hisayo nodded thoughtfully. “Those are common signs, especially in the early stages. Let me take a closer look to confirm.”
Giyuu stiffened slightly but nodded, allowing Hisayo to begin her examination.
After they sat down and got settled in the healer’s cozy, softly lit examination room, Hisayo wasted no time. She carefully observed Giyuu, her experienced hands gently checking his pulse, and her sharp senses assessing his scent with precision.
The older omega worked methodically, all the while offering reassuring glances to the visibly tense Giyuu and the silently watchful Urokodaki.
After some time, Hisayo sat back and smiled kindly at Giyuu. “Well, I can confirm it. You are indeed pregnant.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Giyuu’s breath hitched, and he stared at the floor, his mind racing.
It contrasted Hisayo’s expression, she was calm but certain. “Honestly,” Hisayo began, her tone warm but firm, “ever since I could clearly smell your scent when I opened the door, there was no doubt in my mind that you are pregnant.”
The words struck Giyuu like a physical blow. His face paled as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief. “No… no,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “This can’t be. There has to be some kind of mistake.”
Hisayo gave him a moment to process before responding. “I understand how overwhelming this must feel, dear, but there’s no mistake. Your scent has shifted in a way that only happens when an omega is carrying a child. And from what I can tell, you’re a few weeks along.”
Giyuu’s breathing quickened, panic rising in his chest. He pressed his hands to his temples, his thoughts racing uncontrollably. “I— I’ve been careful. So careful,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I did everything right. This shouldn’t be happening.”
Urokodaki placed a steadying hand on Giyuu’s shoulder, his presence grounding.
“But how?” Giyuu asked, his voice breaking as he turned to the healer, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability. “How did this happen? I don’t understand.” Giyuu had a strict fixed schedule for his birth control and occasional suppressants. This was impossible .
“Unfortunately, in some cases, this is possible,” Hisayo began gently, her voice steady but understanding. “Birth control and other protective measures are not foolproof. While they can significantly reduce the chances of pregnancy, they cannot fully ensure it will not happen.”
She paused, giving Giyuu a moment to absorb her words, before continuing, “There are numerous factors that might have contributed to your current condition, Tomioka-san.” Her tone was clinical yet compassionate as she explained every possibility—timing, hormonal fluctuations, and even the natural unpredictability of an omega’s body.
Giyuu listened in silence, his breathing shallow as each word sank in. His chest tightened with unease, and he could only take a sharp inhale at her conclusion.
“Let me be clear,” Hisayo said firmly. “No one is at fault for unexpected pregnancies like this. These situations happen, and it’s important to approach them with care and understanding.”
Her words brought some relief, but her next statement caused Giyuu to stiffen in his seat. “Also, sometimes…” she hesitated briefly, then continued with a knowing tone, “…the mutual emotional bond you shared with the father might have contributed to the creation of this child.”
Giyuu blinked, his brow furrowing deeply as confusion and disbelief mixed on his face. “E-Emotional bond?”
“Yes,” Hisayo said with a small nod. “Sometimes it’s not just the physical act of intimacy that creates life. Emotional resonance, especially between a mated pair, can strengthen the connection, making conception more likely.”
The words struck Giyuu harder than he expected. “But…” he started, his voice faint. His hands trembled slightly as he thought of Sanemi, their complicated dynamic, and the circumstances that led to their mating.
Hisayo gave him a knowing look but chose not to press further. Instead, she softened her tone and said, “I see that you’re quite young and a Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, yes? Your responsibilities alone are enough to make this news overwhelming. I understand if you are not ready for motherhood.”
Urokodaki, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. “There are options, Giyuu,” he said firmly but gently. “Whatever you choose, I promised I would support you, and I will.”
Giyuu swallowed hard, but before he could respond, Hisayo’s gaze became thoughtful. “Also,” she began with a slight frown, “I’m surprised you are able to conceive at all.”
Giyuu’s eyes widened at the comment. “What?” he asked, his voice faint.
“I know that you’ve suppressed your heats consistently over the years after your secondary gender presented. Not to mention, you’ve had irregular heats for some time, correct?”
Giyuu nodded slowly, his throat dry. “Yes, but… what does that mean?”
“Under normal circumstances,” Hisayo explained, “these factors would typically lower an omega’s fertility, even if just by a bit. It should have been less likely for you to conceive, especially in a situation like yours since you were training to be a Hashira before you presented.”
Her words sent Giyuu’s mind racing. What did this mean? Was she implying that he and Sanemi had a deeper connection than he initially thought? No, that couldn’t be possible. Their mating was born out of necessity, not…
Hisayo reached out, her hands gentle as she touched his trembling ones. “You don’t have to make any decisions today, Giyuu. Right now, what matters is that you take care of yourself and give yourself time to process this.”
Urokodaki nodded in agreement.
Hisayo’s gaze softened further, though her tone carried a necessary weight as she asked, “And your alpha? Will you need to discuss this with him?”
His alpha.
What a joke. His alpha doesn't even care about him—much less loves him. He was probably still angry from what Giyuu had said and done. Not that he was any less angry at Sanemi himself.
The room fell into a tense silence, Giyuu lowering his head as his hands clenched tightly in his lap. The question lingered, heavy and uncomfortable, until Hisayo pressed gently, her voice careful not to push too hard. “Are you mated, Tomioka-san?”
Giyuu hesitated, his lips parting as though to deny it outright, but then he faltered, exhaling softly. “We are mated… but it’s not—We haven’t been talking.”
Hisayo’s brows rose slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face, though she didn’t pry. Urokodaki, sensing the omega’s struggle, placed a steady hand on his shoulder and nodded, silently urging her to continue.
“I understand,” Hisayo replied, her voice calm and understanding, though she did not hide the concern in her expression, likely assuming they were forcibly bonded. “How long have you been mated?”
“For about 3 years now.”
“And you have spent your heat cycles with him ever since? That would only be the natural way, unless both of you have other arrangements since you mentioned that it was not a romantic relationship?”
“No…we spend it together.”
“When was your last heat cycle?”
“About…2 months ago?”
“Was your heat cycle…slightly more eager than the previous ones?” Giyuu thinks back to 2 months ago. Admittedly, it was the most he uncharacteristically needed to be with Sanemi, his alpha, his mate, he thought it was weird but the haze of the heat clouded his conscience.
He basically jumped the alpha and they had sex right at the door. It was the most blurry his heat has ever been, he barely remembers anything at all, just that he demanded Sanemi to have sex with him right now.
Eventually, Giyuu nods in agreement to what she said. He had been more eager, extremely more eager.
The healer has this look of realization and he can hear Urokodaki slowly sigh too, she says “Ah well…That explains it.”
Giyuu furrowed his eyebrows, he was confused, did he miss something? What did she mean? He says carefully, “What explains it?”
She clasped her hands together, the way people did it when they were about to discuss something very vital. “You see, Tomioka-san, you are aware of how mating bonds work right? It is very rarely given out of necessity, in fact maybe not at all, unlike marriage. It is an eternal promise, a choice that will bear consequences if broken. ”
“I am very aware of its purpose.”
“Then you must understand that the more the mating union lasts, it is a reflex for the bond to do what its purpose is. It has been tradition, being bonded means obviously starting a family and that is what the bond expected out of the both of you.” She briefly paused, “It must have been confused as to why you were taking birth control for an extended amount of time with no intention of having a child whilst constantly spending mating cycles together.”
Urokodaki’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.“This is what I feared the most when you told me of your situation. The bond intentionally made your omega have a pup because of the absence of one in your womb when you are already mated.”
Giyuu turned his gaze to the floor, his mind swimming with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. The room fell into a brief silence, heavy with unspoken concerns.
For some reason, Giyuu wasn’t entirely outraged by this. He was scared to confront why he felt less fear than what he initially thought he’d have.
While they walked back to Urokodaki’s home, Giyuu’s mind reeled over the events that just happened.
He was pregnant.
He was carrying Sanemi’s child, their child.
He still does not understand why this would happen. He was sure he took birth control like always and he’s sure that Sanemi was just as careful as Giyuu with stuff like this. Sanemi made it very clear every time they would spend each other's cycle.
Even if Hisayo explained it thoroughly to him, he couldn’t believe it because of the conflict that blew up in their places. How could Giyuu believe her when Sanemi said it himself that he didn’t want this with Giyuu?
He stops abruptly, clutching his flat stomach. Tears almost streamed down his eyes.
Urokodaki also stopped just ahead of him, slowly turning around as if to ready himself from Giyuu’s concealed outburst, the older alpha asked “You and Shinazugawa haven't been talking?”
Giyuu only stared at him for a moment before he eventually sheepishly nodded. Urokodaki sighed and offered comfort, opening his arms in a quiet gesture that asked if Giyuu needed a hug. The omega immediately ran into him, sobbing helplessly on Urokodaki’s shoulder while the other man rubbed at his back soothingly.
Urokodaki’s biggest fear was for Giyuu to lose the spark he regained over the past years once more.
There was a different way in which he carried himself up until now. His scent has also grown lighter and he used to always cover up his scent until recent years. He didn’t want Giyuu to be forced to be mated to someone he barely knew because of a blood demon art. He was furious but also somber.
Maybe he was selfish and didn’t object because he wanted Giyuu to live. He wants him to experience the beauty of life again. And he just can’t lose any of his students to demons anymore.
He can’t bear seeing Giyuu in a place of pain again because of something he can not control. He wants him to have a second chance in life and love and everything that comes in between those feelings. Urkodaki didn’t want Giyuu gone from this world without experiencing those feelings again when he was very much capable of grasping it.
So he didn’t resist, he didn’t object, he didn’t do anything.
He was hoping it would be the key to Giyuu exploring the true meaning of companionship.
Now he was deeply regretting it.
He regretted it because Giyuu was back in that bubble of isolation and confusion and anger—and just like before he couldn’t do anything about it.
So naturally, Urokodaki apologizes to Giyuu. He says that it’s his fault for all of this happening—he says that he should have rejected the proposal. He said that he could have done something but he didn’t when he could and that he was so incredibly sorry—
Giyuu obviously says it’s not his fault. He expresses that it probably would’ve happened one way or another anyway and it wasn't something neither of them could control. And Giyuu says that he’s grateful because he had a second chance in trying to feel something else besides self-destruction, even if it was through eventual heartbreak once more.
Urokodaki says that all he wanted was for Giyuu to be happy again and by how he looked the past couple of years he finally thought he’d done something right. That he’d been doing something right when Tanjiro passed the Final Selection and when Nezuko woke up from her years of slumber.
“You’ve been doing it more than just right, Urokodaki-san.”
All he knew from now on was that whatever may happen, he’d abide by Giyuu.
Giyuu knows he needs to let go, but he can't bear to lose Sanemi from his life.This pain is the only reminder of what he once had, besides the baby. Giyuu is not wanted anyway.
He knows logically that he shouldn’t be wallowing because it’s not good for the baby but he couldn't stop. He swears he’s trying—trying not to cry in his futon all day and then go on missions the next.
Urokodaki is worried for him and he kind of feels guilty about that. It doesn’t help that Muzan was laying down his cards more vaguely but boldly.
Giyuu also talks to the baby sometimes about the mission and the people he saved, about interesting stuff the baby might want to hear, and…sometimes about Sanemi. It's therapeutic for him, the baby doesn't kick yet but he feels that they're listening anyway.
Is Giyuu cruel for hiding this from him or is Sanemi cruel for saying that to him? Doesn’t that make them both cruel? Or maybe he’s wrong.
Even though he keeps trying to tell himself that there's no hope, even though he's trying not to get hurt because he has no right, it still hurts—because Giyuu is still hoping.
Either way, Giyuu is back right where he started.
He was hiding in a sense that he avoids anything related to Sanemi or any potential topics about him. Obviously he's trying his best to mask his scent and suppress it and use blockers when he thinks he doesn't have the energy to pretend.
He's not ashamed of pregnancy obviously, he's just…he can't express his genuine feelings because it was just so wrong. Everything leading up to the pregnancy was so wrong. And yet his omega preened at the pregnancy, Giyuu could feel extreme joy as a reaction within him from the pregnancy.
Giyuu is trying not to agree because this was more than just him pregnant—But he couldn't help but agree either. In fact, he absolutely agrees because at some point, he did want this. He couldn't disagree with the happiness his inner omega was expressing because of how much he tried to convince himself that those feelings were short lived, just the high of being newly mated—the honeymoon phase as people say. A feeling so familiar it finally ignited again after 8 years of dullness in his world.
The epiphany came crashing down on Giyuu like a feather landing on a puddle of water without breaking the surface tension. An epiphany so gentle that it came with the soft glow of fireflies at night floating around him.
He was in love again.
He was so utterly enraptured by the captivating musical notes delicately created by love again, so alike to when he once hung in the balance of it. Giyuu realized that he did want this again, a dream he thought he'd never see once more after joining the Corps and losing almost everyone he had loved.
He can wholeheartedly admit that he wants to get pregnant and have this baby and nurture them without the tragedies of having demons in the world. He wants to navigate his way through uncharted waters called parenthood and start a family with someone he loves…
Maybe at some point he decided that that person is Sanemi. He wants it to be Sanemi. But does Sanemi want this with him? ‘I regret you’ The words echoed in his head like a disturbing migraine.
No, he does not want this with Giyuu.
So with trembling hands, he sewing back together the torn and ragged flimsy pieces of his heart that had only started to heal recently by something stronger than his usual needle and thread. Something that was more than just adhesive and ties, a force Giyuu thought was unbreakable.
How naive of him.
Giyuu guesses that it must’ve been his own subconscious whispering nonsense—false faith then, maybe he was convincing himself that Sanemi felt the same way because he was starved of love for so long.
The next months go by in a blur because of the events happening within the Corps, it was outrageous because Muzan sent his Upper Moon ranks, and the joyous news that Nezuko conquered the sun so obviously the Oyakata-sama needed Giyuu to be there.
Meaning—he needed to face the consequences of his avoidance.
Notes:
Guys, I know I said I might update every week but it’s just not working out and it's unfair for you guys to take it to heart…i'm so sorry. I might end up taking longer…so sorry for leaving you guys for more than a month?!? I was genuinely shocked with myself!!!
I hope you...enjoyed??? the chapter!!! I loved these flashback chapters so much but the angst starts here! which means we are going back to the present.
Love you guys as always:)) Thank u for all the love!!!
Chapter 7: but you're right here?
Summary:
“We are demon slayers, Shinazugawa, we aren’t meant to…” Giyuu looked away and whispered the last part, as if it was a secret so shameful it mustn't come out of his mouth. “...start a family. It would only burden you if you would’ve known.”
“Any more than it would’ve burdened you?”
Notes:
I’m finally back from whatever blackhole I’ve been stuck in! Also, I almost didn't get to update this week because I got sick...but I pumped myself with medicine so that I could make it on time!
Guys, I won’t overexplain the timeline but all you really have to know is that it’s set in between the training arcs, some panels will also be there to show the flow of canon etc. Like I said last chapter, we are BACK IN THE PRESENT. Also my dearly beloved readers…I love you all so much. I love our interactions and I love everyones comments 😭😭😭 I don't deserve you guys💔
This was a few chapters back but I wanted to address two things: the graveyard scene and the traditional omega clothing. Guys...they did NOT get freaky in the cemetery😭😭😭I can see why it's a misconception because it was kinda subtle(but i did say they walked out) but based on Japanese cemetery etiquette (and in general) it is NOT acceptable to do that... As for Giyuu's traditional omega clothing, do u know that one art of him in like subtle make up and orange kimono? I was kinda going for that. I read it in a fic once and kinda thought everyone knew what it meant😭😭😭 the fic associated traditional cultural clothing as kind of a traditional omega clothing and I thought everyone knew that for some reason??? Lol, sorry for that misunderstanding!!!
*Also. Yes, the bond baby trapped them, as it SHOULD.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When they finally reached the gate, Giyuu’s attendant was sweeping the fallen leaves, as she was about to greet them, she was stopped in her tracks by seeing Sanemi behind her master, looking ready to explode any moment now.
She let them pass, afraid of what might happen between them because she could tell that Giyuu was equally as agitated as Sanemi.
Once they reached the room Giyuu usually retires in, Sanemi was the first to break the silence, finally recovered by Giyuu's display of vulnerability. “So? Why the fuck did you hide this from me huh?”
Giyuu sat down in front of the table in the middle of the room, he wasn't particularly exhausted today but Sanemi finding out his pregnancy drained the carefree aura he's been trying to maintain. “We are demon slayers, Shinazugawa, we aren’t meant to…” Giyuu looked away and whispered the last part, as if it was a secret so shameful it mustn't come out of his mouth. “...start a family. It would only burden you if you would’ve known.”
“Any more than it would’ve burdened you?”
“It’s different with me. It was my fault that I ended up like this—” A lie. Giyuu couldn’t tell him the truth yet. Not when they are so close to destroying Muzan's legacy. Not when he feels like he's going to willingly break the barrier he's been building around himself just to let the alpha in anyway. “So it was my burden to bear. And besides, our relationship is far from a loving one, I didn’t think you needed to know.”
Our relationship is far from a loving one? Sanemi could feel his blood boil in pain. So he was right, Giyuu never thought of him as his eternal partner, he never thought of Sanemi romantically. No one told him it would hurt this much to hear it from his most desired omega.
And yet.
He refused to believe. He desperately clung on to the subtle but loaded gazes Giyuu used to send his way. Gazes that reflect that there might be a chance. Even a little. That he would be loved back.
This was it. That was when he knew. This was the scariest epiphany of them all. This epiphany came crashing down on him with the grace of a rampaging hurricane. A revelation so brutal, his hearing started to ring and the oxygen in his lungs seemed to have disappeared. It was enough to knock him out of the balance he’s been careful not to break.
There is no denying, Shinazugawa Sanemi is in love. Has been in love.
Oh fuck.
He's in love with Tomioka Giyuu. And upon seeing the omega in this new limelight, even through the conflict they're having, Sanemi wants to mate him all over again.
So that is why he recklessly says, “Bullshit. You think I don’t know that you’re lying to me right now?”
Giyuu sounds exasperated when he defends himself, “I am telling the truth.”
“The fuck you are! Tell me the truth, Tomioka! Why did you hide this from me?! Did I ever make you feel like you can’t tell me shit—”
“Yes! You have!”
Sanemi paced in front of the table across Giyuu, refusing to tackle a subject so delicate sitting down. He could feel Giyuu's eyes follow his movements, like he was cursing the alpha's existence.
But that isn't enough anymore because Sanemi needs to know why Giyuu had been holding this back from him. “All I ever did was understand you! I know you’re holding something back from me, fucking spit it out already!”
Giyuu slammed his hands on the table, standing up to make a point. "Because I know that you do not want this!”
He heaved a breath “I know I made a mistake. I know that you probably hate me and that you'd probably stick around just because I’m pregnant and I can't stand it . I can’t stand being with you only because you have to .”
Giyuu looked away, a flicker of something faltering his gaze. “I-I won't allow them to have separated parents who constantly fight because we weren’t even supposed to be together.”
The omega added, “I don't want them to be in that environment because of a mistake."
Sanemi is bewildered at this never before seen Giyuu losing his temper. However Sanemi is more outraged that Giyuu would even say that about him. Or even imply that about them. So this was why he didn’t get his rut. He thought it was merely stress, the bond tugging at his neck because he’s been overexerting himself. Not because his mate was fucking pregnant .
"What the hell are you talking about—How do you know what I want? You can't just ducking say that without knowing, Tomioka! I should have a say in this too, you don’t need to hog the responsibility."
"You don't feel the same way about me and I'm not subjecting my child to that, Shinazugawa. And I've learned to accept it, I've taken everything you threw at me and I don't even know why I tried! Why can't you just leave me alone like you always have!? You said you didn't care! Why do you care now!?"
"Of course I don’t feel the same fucking way about you, you don’t need to rub it in my face. And I never said I didn’t care!"
Sanemi didn’t feel the same way because he cared, he fucking loved him! And clearly, Giyuu didn’t because he’s pushing him away.
"Well you didn’t need to. You made it very clear, Shinazugawa . You don't stick around! You always leave!"
"When have I ever—Fuck! This is frustrating. What do you mean that you don’t accept what I feel—" when you’re literally the one who doesn’t want me.
Giyuu sounds even more angry, a tone that almost matched Sanemi's own jagged one. "Yes! I understand it already, okay? Stop repeating it to me. I'm not a child! I know I'm not enough for you. I know that I drain every good thing from your life, I’m probably just a ducking obligation. I know you want nothing to do with me and that's fine.”
What the fuck was Giyuu going on about? Is he fucking projecting or what? Sanemi was completely lost .
“I know you'll say that I should have been more careful, or you would've demanded that I abort them because I will never be able to handle myself out there—But I can and I'm fine! You don't need to scream and yell at me!"
Sanemi's head snapped to the side in hastiness due to Giyuu's bold statement. Where the fuck was this coming from!?
Sure, Sanemi agreed that Giyuu should've been more careful especially because his life was on the line even before he was pregnant—but he wouldn't have told him to get rid of the baby? Sanemi doesn't understand why he would even ever say that!
Out of rage because of the accusation the alpha spat back, "Maybe because screaming and yelling is the only way you'll listen to me! I always have to spell it the fuck out for you!”
Sanemi stomped over to where Giyuu was standing, he wants the omega to know just how much he doesn't get Sanemi after all. With a gaze sharp enough to pierce Giyuu's walls, Sanemi added, “Don't you dare tell me what my morals are because you know damn well I wouldn't ever have said that to you. I wouldn’t even fucking dare, Tomioka!"
They screamed at each other back and forth until the whole room stunk of a distressed omega and a raging alpha. Despite their bond throbbing on their necks, begging them to reconcile instead of resist each other. Sanemi and Giyuu didn't relent with their screaming match, why should they listen to the damn mark anyway? It was the reason why they were even here in the first place.
For the first time after a long time, Giyuu saw his mating bite as a curse again, like what it was three years ago when he and Sanemi happened to be in the wrong place.
A place where fate apparently deemed it worthy that they should belong to each other.
Eventually, Sanemi stomped off like always does when they argue. This time he had no parting words that would deepen the gaping wound in Giyuu's heart.
This time, it was an eye roll and silence.
He always leaves.
Giyuu slammed the door, visibly shaking the entire room from the strength of his slam.
He heard Sanemi’s loud stomps in the hallway, as if he seeked to destroy anything that came in his way just from arguing with Giyuu, until it turned into silence again.
At first Giyuu's blood just boiled with rage and anger as he caught his breath. Shit , when has he last screamed like that?
His back collided with the door and he slid down carefully and sobbed. Giyuu let his eyes water from the pain of letting himself go even though he knew the consequences. Even though he knew that there was an inevitability.
He caressed his swollen belly tenderly, soothing and protecting them from the mess Giyuu put himself in. An apology of sorts, that he will bear them into this world with a father that doesn't love their mother.
His attendant found him soon after, trying to soothe him and calm him down by rubbing his back and helping him stand up. Reciting words that would help him stop hiccuping so he could breathe better. Giyuu felt bad because she was elderly, taking care of a pregnant omega was definitely not in her job description.
Giyuu was thankful for her nonetheless, she reminded him of Urokodaki in a way, ever attentive and careful with everything she does.
Once Giyuu was sitting in his meditation room, she left to prepare him some tea, to help with his woes. Before she left, she kindly said, “I'm sorry, Giyuu-sama.”
Giyuu didn't reply.
I'm sorry for myself too.
After Sanemi left, Giyuu meditated.
He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He sent his attendant home because she did not deserve to inhale all the distressed and putrid smell of pheromones from Sanemi and Giyuu. She didn’t want to do it of course, but Giyuu could tell that it was affecting her. So now, he’s sitting in the middle of the room trying to recover his energy.
When suddenly, a familiar voice called out his name: Tanjiro. Why was he here?
Giyuu had declined—politely but firmly—when Tanjiro first showed up at his door asking for his involvement in the training. He’d said no. Of course he did. But Tanjiro hadn’t taken it personally. Instead, he came again the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
At first, Giyuu thought surely Tanjiro would retreat the moment he noticed—or smelled—what was obvious to anyone who paid attention. His condition. The pregnancy. The way his scent had changed into something softer, fuller.
But Tanjiro hadn’t flinched. Not once.
Instead, he sat outside his estate like a sentry, sometimes quietly speaking through the paper door, other times just waiting patiently with food or tea. Not pushing. Just… being there.
So he let him stay. He told himself it was only because he didn’t have the energy to argue. Or because he didn’t want to look like he was being cruel. He pretended it wasn’t because he found Tanjiro’s presence strangely…grounding.
And yet, it wore on him, more than he wanted to admit. The persistence. The earnestness. The way Tanjiro would help sweep the walkways, or prepare the kettle, or ask how Giyuu was feeling that day in a voice so calm and gentle it made his chest ache.
He tried to resist, to remain indifferent. But Giyuu had never been particularly good at being indifferent to kindness. Especially not the kindness of words.
And no matter how much he tries to not associate Sanemi's words with Tanjiro’s persuasion that he deserved his place as a Hashira, he couldn't help it. Sanemi's soft spoken words were a contrast against Sabito's wake up slap. It both did the job but one was gentler than the other.
He valued both of them obviously but there was no bitterness with the memory of Sabito's slap, the memory of Sanemi's assurance however, felt like bile and acid being shoved down his throat. Either way, he was persuaded to have some sort of position in the training.
Before he could reply though, Tanjiro asked with excitement "Uh, Giyuu-san? Do you want to have a soba eating competition with me?"
Giyuu was surprised at first, it was such an odd request.
But truthfully, it didn’t sound bad. He hadn’t had soba in weeks because Salmon and Daikon was the only thing he didn't gag at lately. The idea of warm, salty broth and chewy noodles made something low in his belly flutter with interest—and then, almost as if in agreement, he felt a gentle thump against his abdomen.
And so, not long after, they found themselves seated at a small, bustling soba shop just off the main street, the scent of broth and scallions swirling thick around them. The wooden bowls were stacked high, the table nearly too small for the pace at which they were eating.
With a mouthful of soba, Tanjiro asked, "By the way Giyuu-san, congratulations! I didn't know you were expecting! But then again, I've been tending to other stuff lately. So I might’ve missed it if anyone mentioned. Urokodaki-san didn't say anything in his letters either—not that he's obligated to."
"Congratulations?" Giyuu repeated, a little dazed.
"For your baby." Tanjiro said with a smile as warm as summer.
Giyuu offered a quiet, “Oh… thank you.” No one really ever congratulated him for being pregnant so this was…new.
Tanjiro brightened at that. “I also didn’t know that you were seeing someone,” he continued innocently, lifting another cluster of noodles. “Or… not? Sorry! That was rude of me to assume—”
“No, no,” Giyuu interrupted, soft but clear. “You’re right. I am… seeing someone.”
The words felt oddly foreign on his tongue, as if speaking them out loud made the relationship more tangible, more real. He looked down at his belly instinctively, brushing his fingers just above his uniform where the movement beneath the surface still shifted, faint and rhythmic.
Tanjiro leaned forward slightly, eyes sparkling with curiosity now. “How long have you been together, Giyuu-san?”
Giyuu considered lying.
Not out of shame—but because it felt too personal to explain. Too strange to say out loud after keeping it quiet for so long. After all, who even cared anymore? In a world where demons still threatened every horizon, where blood and sacrifice defined their lives, what did it matter if he and Sanemi had shared three years of closeness in between it all?
But Tanjiro was looking at him with open trust. Gentle and genuine.
Giyuu exhaled slowly. “For about… three years now.”
There was a beat of silence.
And then, Tanjiro choked.
He coughed violently, noodles half-swallowed, spluttering into his sleeve. His face flushed immediately, both from embarrassment and the sheer impact of the news.
Giyuu jolted forward, alarmed. “Are you alright?”
Tanjiro lifted a hand, still coughing, face now a brilliant shade of red. “I’m—” cough ” —I’m fine!” He cleared his throat, smacked his chest, and then croaked out, voice cracking at the edges, “That long!?”
Giyuu nodded calmly, sipping from the broth of his bowl with deliberate grace. “Yes.”
“But… you’ve never mentioned—! I mean, I thought maybe you—” Tanjiro gestured vaguely, like he was trying to pull his thoughts from midair. “Three years is a lot, Giyuu-san!”
Giyuu tilted his head. “It is.”
“Who is it? Are they in the Corps? They must be, they smell like someone in the Corps, though I can't really place who…” Tanjiro was practically vibrating now, in that joyous way he always is. “Have I met them? Is it someone I know?”
Giyuu’s expression remained unreadable for a beat too long. Then, simply, he said: “Yes. You’ve met him.”
Tanjiro’s eyes went wide. “Him?”
Giyuu nodded. Tanjiro was a smart kid, Giyuu knew that he didn’t even need to say who it is.
The younger alpha blinked rapidly, realizing something so suddenly. “Wait. Is it—?”
Giyuu raised a hand in quiet warning. “Please don't say his name.”
“—that would mean you were already mated when we met! Hm, I never really noticed that your smell was intertwined with someone else though…”
That's because we barely saw each other back then. Giyuu thought quietly to himself.
Tanjiro pouted, slumping back down in his seat with mock defeat. “Oh well, it's not like it's my business anyway,” he muttered, before picking up his chopsticks again with newfound vigor. “But I’m glad for you, Giyuu-san. I mean it.”
There was a pause. Giyuu looked away, lips parting slightly before closing again. The heat of the broth in his mouth couldn’t mask the quiet warmth blooming in his chest.
“…Thank you,” he said, quietly.
Tanjiro just smiled and shoved another mouthful of soba into his mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.
And for a brief moment, as the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon and laughter echoed from the shop behind them, Giyuu allowed himself to smile—small and faint, but genuine.
Because yes, maybe three years was a long time.
But so was the silence before it.
Today, it was Giyuu and Obanai’s turn to spar.
The sun filtered weakly through the forest canopy that lined the training field, drawing dappled patterns across the dirt. The Hashira stood gathered in a wide circle around the two combatants. Mitsuri sat along the edge of the field with her wooden sword resting on her thighs, the ends of her pink and green hair stuck to her neck with sweat. Her usually bright eyes darted anxiously between Giyuu and Obanai.
Giyuu stood poised with his bokuto drawn, the loose folds of his uniform carefully refitted around the noticeable swell of his six-month belly. He was serene, still as the surface of a lake before the wind. Mitsuri’s lips thinned as she looked at him. She hated this. Hated how calm he looked when she knew, knew, that this was dangerous. But she also knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. Oyakata-sama had cleared Giyuu for limited training with proper rest, and Giyuu had insisted that he could still hold his own.
Iguro rolled his neck, cracking the tension out of it as Kaburamaru slithered loosely around his shoulders. He eyed Giyuu like a puzzle he wasn’t particularly interested in solving.
“Try not to fall over when I knock you back,” he muttered, dryly. Giyuu said nothing. His expression didn’t even flicker.
Iguro took it as confirmation of his assumption: the idiot had no bite to begin with, and now that he was pregnant? He’d be slower, weaker, too careful to land a proper strike. It wasn’t that Obanai had any deep hatred toward Giyuu—he just didn’t like him. The Water Hashira had always rubbed him the wrong way. Quiet, self-serious, always slightly removed. And now he was waddling around pretending he could still fight like a Hashira?
Pathetic , Obanai thought. I could end this in a minute.
His movements were swift, deliberate—Serpent Breathing techniques that lashed forward like coils. But Giyuu moved just as swiftly, pivoting on the ball of his foot, parrying the blow with calculated grace. There was a slight drag to his movements, yes—heavier than before—but Obanai noticed it too late. The drag wasn’t weakness, it was intention.
The fight continued like a slow, tightening spiral.
Giyuu did not falter. He didn’t flinch when Obanai’s bokuto slashed just inches from his cheek. He didn’t stumble when Obanai feinted low. His breathing was even, crisp. The Water Hashira’s blade danced in calculated arcs, intercepting each strike with a fluidity that was infuriating.
Obanai gritted his teeth.
“How are you not slowing down?” he hissed between clenched jaws, ducking beneath a clean horizontal slash.
Giyuu didn’t respond.
In truth, his limbs were aching, his back was beginning to throb from the strain, and he could feel the sweat soaking into his underlayers—but the haze of instinct and discipline kept him upright. He focused on his breathing. He had always found stillness in movement, clarity in the fight.
Iguro lunged with more aggression now. His strikes grew sharper, more chaotic. Kaburamaru hissed from his shoulders. He expected Giyuu to start slipping, but he never did.
Instead, Iguro began to feel his own limbs fatigue—his timing slipped, his guard faltered for half a second—and that was all Giyuu needed.
A burst of water surged from the arc of Giyuu’s sword, crashing toward Obanai like a wave. He leapt back just in time to avoid the direct blow, but his balance was off—he staggered, winded, and in that heartbeat of exposed breathlessness, Giyuu closed the distance.
The flat of his wooden blade tapped Obanai’s shoulder.
It was over.
The training field was silent except for the sound of Mitsuri’s sharp inhale.
Obanai’s eyes widened behind his bandages. His arms shook faintly at his sides as his brain caught up with what had just happened. He lost. To Giyuu. Pregnant, quiet, stubborn Giyuu.
“…Tch.” Obanai turned sharply, frustrated, and stalked away without waiting for the official call.
He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely—now it was the Love Hashira’s turn.
Mitsuri and Giyuu’s spar was a graceful yet grueling exchange—a dance of strength and endurance, both of them drawing from deep wells of technique honed through years of hardship. The rhythm of their blades rang in the air like song, sharp and fluid, water against whipcord.
Despite her reservations, Mitsuri didn’t hold back.
She had promised herself—and Giyuu—that she wouldn’t go easy on him. If he was standing across from her with a blade in hand, it meant he was ready to be treated as an equal. And so she met his strikes with full force, her muscles singing with effort, each motion threaded with her usual light-footed power.
But underneath her focus, worry churned.
She couldn’t stop glancing at the roundness of his belly, the way he moved with its weight—balanced, but burdened. It was impossible not to feel something stir in her heart. Maybe it was omega instinct, or maybe it was just her being herself, full of empathy and protective warmth. She hadn’t carried a child herself, but her body understood what Giyuu’s was doing, what it must’ve taken to show up here at all.
Giyuu fought with restraint, with discipline. His form was still sharp, but the drain was starting to show. Sweat dotted his hairline. His breaths came shorter between movements. Mitsuri could feel it—he was burning through his reserves.
The moment he lifted his hand, palm open in surrender, she halted mid-strike. Her braid swayed with the sudden stop as she lowered her bokuto, chest heaving.
Giyuu stood in place for a beat longer, one hand pressed against the small of his back. He leaned into it ever so slightly, drawing in long, quiet breaths that stuttered a little at the end—tired exhales that betrayed more than his expression ever would.
Mitsuri stepped forward immediately. “Tomioka-san! Are you okay? Do you need assistance—”
Across the field, Iguro stood with his arms crossed, Kaburamaru’s tongue flicking across his collar. His gaze lingered—not out of concern, but something tighter, more bitter. He couldn’t understand Giyuu. Never had. And watching him now, pregnant and sparring like a fool, only twisted the tension deeper in his chest . How reckless.
Giyuu didn’t meet Mitsuri’s eyes at first. He shook his head once, a brief gesture, then offered her a small wave of his hand—
“I’m fine,” he murmured, voice low, measured.
He walked slowly to the nearest bench and eased himself down with care, his hand still resting on the curve of his belly as if by instinct. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a few moments, feeling the ache in his legs, the warmth of exertion pooling in his limbs. His breaths evened out.
Mitsuri hovered for a second longer before nodding and stepping away, giving him space. She knew better than to fuss too much. Still, her heart ached just a little.
Iguro didn’t move. He watched Giyuu quietly from a distance, his gaze unreadable, arms still crossed tightly over his chest.
He wanted to scoff. Idiot .
But something about the image of Giyuu sitting alone, his hand cradling his unborn child after fighting like hell for his place in the Corps, made the words stick in his throat.
Then came a match with Tokito.
Their training was markedly different from the others, more like a silent storm than a clash. Water and Mist—two styles born from the same breath, one flowing with emotion, the other drifting in detachment. It made for a spar that felt less like a duel and more like a mirrored dance.
Giyuu and Muichiro moved in tandem, each strike graceful and calculated, neither of them overexerting but never slacking. To an outsider, it might have seemed gentle, but those who knew better would recognize the razor edge in each motion.
Muichiro, for his part, was fascinated. Not only because Giyuu was one of the Corps’ most enigmatic swordsmen—but because he was also pregnant and somehow not crumbling under the pressure of combat. Muichiro couldn’t wrap his head around it.
How was Giyuu still this stable on his feet? How was he not already collapsed from exhaustion? Since when was he pregnant anyway?
Muichiro’s mind buzzed with quiet calculations and observations, so distracted by awe that he almost missed the faint hitch in Giyuu’s next step.
It was small—barely a shift in balance—but enough. Giyuu’s foot skidded slightly against the ground, his body tilting forward with the weight of his belly before he managed to catch himself. His hand instinctively flew to his stomach, supporting the underside, grounding himself.
Muichiro blinked in surprise.
“I’m sorry, Tokito-kun,” Giyuu said between slow breaths, his tone as calm as always. “I’m afraid I’ve spent all my energy.”
Muichiro frowned slightly. Shouldn’t I be the one asking if he's fine? he thought. Giyuu was the one sparring with the weight of a human being in his gut, for heaven’s sake.
Still, he stepped forward and asked, “Uh, that’s quite fine… Are you okay?” He gestured vaguely toward Giyuu’s belly, now clearly cradled with one hand, his posture subtly shifted to ease pressure off his lower back.
Giyuu blinked at him with the same even expression he always wore and answered, “Oh. Yes, the babies were kicking just now.”
Muichiro stared.
Babies?
His eyes slowly widened in realization. Oh.
“Babies?” he echoed aloud, the word gently verbalized out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“Yes,” Giyuu said, as if it were nothing more than a weather update.
Muichiro repeated, louder, “Babies?”
He looked like he had just seen a demon wearing a flower crown.
Giyuu hummed lightly and nodded. “They’re quite active lately,” he added nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a training field having just sparred like his womb wasn’t full of twins.
Muichiro gawked as Giyuu stepped aside and lowered himself onto a flat stone bench, his hand still gently stroking the swell of his stomach. That’s when Muichiro’s eyes caught it—a shift under the skin, a tiny thump. Then another.
A foot? An elbow?
He wasn’t sure, but he was sure it made him feel like screaming into the mist. He was a little mortified by the display.
Giyuu tilted his head as if sensing his horror. Then the older omega softly giggled at Muichiro’s surprised and shocked reaction, the sound quiet and breathy, but undeniably warm.
It escaped him like an afterthought, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip. But it was there—gentle and full of amusement. Muichiro stiffened in place as if he’d just witnessed something earth-shattering.
It wasn’t just the fact that Giyuu laughed. It was the Water Hashira giggling, very gracefully too.
The stoic, emotionally unreadable Water Hashira. The one who seemed incapable of expressing anything stronger than polite detachment.
Muichiro blinked rapidly, his mouth opening then closing like he wasn’t sure how to process what just happened. And then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Can I feel them?”
He didn’t know why he asked. He certainly hadn’t planned to. Giyuu’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at the request, but the surprise passed quickly. His lips curled into the smallest, most genuine smile—barely there, but enough to be noticed.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding once.
Muichiro reached out, but hesitated. His hands hovered awkwardly, fingers curled slightly like he wasn’t sure where to touch. His gaze flicked from Giyuu’s rounded belly to his face and back again— Woah.
Muichiro was momentarily stunned by Giyuu's beauty when he flicked his eyes over to his face. Sure, he always sees Giyuu…or not? Nonetheless, he was dumbstruck by his striking features for a second, he didn’t have a lot of point of reference but it was surely a face that made heads turn. His alpha must be very lucky, Muichiro thought absentmindedly.
The moment stretched with that nervous tension of someone not quite sure if they were crossing a line.
Giyuu sensed it—of course he did. The younger omega was many things, but tact wasn’t always one of them. Giyuu gently reached out, his fingers light and cool as he took Muichiro’s wrists and guided them downward.
Muichiro let him.
He pressed both palms gently against the swell of Giyuu’s belly, flat and open, and—
There it was.
Movement. Subtle at first. Like a ripple beneath the surface of a pond. Then a firmer nudge, a push from within that raised the skin slightly beneath his hand. His eyes widened in silent awe.
“They’re… moving,” he whispered, more to himself than to Giyuu.
The sensation was foreign. Like tiny little limbs trying to explore a world they weren’t ready for yet. “It’s cool,” he added after a beat, “but kind of weird.”
Giyuu chuckled again, a soft puff of breath through his nose. Muichiro’s brows furrowed, his fingers still splayed across the skin. “Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, his voice unusually careful. “When they kick you, or when they move?”
Giyuu shook his head slowly. “It depends. Right now, it hurts only a little bit.” he admitted, resting one hand lightly on top of Muichiro’s. “When they’re really energetic. Or when they decide to stretch all at once. Sometimes it feels like they’re trying to rearrange my organs.”
Muichiro made a face. “That’s horrible.” Muichiro didn’t move, still captivated. After a few long moments, one of the babies kicked again—stronger this time—and he let out a stunned noise. “How can you sleep like this?”
“I don’t,” Giyuu said dryly, though there was a glint of tired humor in his eyes.
Muichiro glanced up at him, studying his expression for a second before quietly saying, “You’re really strong, Tomioka-san.”
The compliment was sincere—stripped of competition or comparison. Just a simple, quiet truth. Giyuu’s expression shifted again, softer than before. “Thank you,” he said.
Muichiro pulled his hands away slowly, and Giyuu adjusted his posture with a slight groan as he leaned back. The younger omega’s hands now rested in his lap, fingers curling and uncurling slowly as his thoughts drifted.
He thought back to his mother—her soft voice, her gentle hands, the warmth of her lap when she’d hum lullabies to lull him and his twin brother to sleep. He could barely remember the shape of her face these days, but the feeling lingered. The sensation of being part of something whole.
That unspoken bond he’d shared with his twin in the womb, then as children, always inseparable, always connected—until they weren’t. The memory had grown bittersweet with time. Not just sad, not anymore, but tender too. A bruise that no longer throbbed, but would never fade.
As he sat beside Giyuu, still reeling from the sensation of feeling life move beneath his palms, Muichiro couldn’t help but think of them—the babies. Two, he had said. Twins.
He blinked at the older omega’s stomach. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that—what it meant to be half of a pair.
Seeing it manifest again in someone else, in a stranger’s womb, made him ache with something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. “They’ll be lucky,” he said out loud without meaning to.
“Hm?”
Muichiro kept his gaze forward, watching the trees sway beyond the training field. “Your babies, I mean.” He paused, voice softer now. “They’ll be lucky to have each other."
Muichiro didn't expect that he'd be able to say this out loud but— “I had a twin. We… we were together from the start.”
Giyuu’s expression didn’t change immediately, but something in the set of his shoulders eased. He looked down at his belly and placed a protective hand over it, fingers splayed gently.
“Yes, I'm sure you’re right...” Giyuu murmured.
Muichiro smiled faintly, then, as his thoughts settled, another curiosity bloomed—unexpected but persistent. Muichiro wonders who their father could be, if the older omega even has an alpha?
“Do you…” What were they called again? When two people are together eternally? “...have a partner?” he asked, glancing at Giyuu out of the corner of his eye. “An alpha?”
He hadn’t intended to sound nosy, and maybe he would’ve let it go any other time, but now—after everything—it felt like a valid question. Giyuu was always so composed, so quiet and solitary, that it had never occurred to Muichiro to think about what kind of life he lived beyond missions. But now? With twins?
Giyuu didn’t respond right away. His hand stayed on his belly, thumb brushing over the fabric slowly, thoughtfully. Then he exhaled, not tiredly, but as if choosing his words carefully.
“I’m mated,” he said. “But it’s… complicated.”
Muichiro blinked. That wasn’t what he expected. “Oh.”
Sensing the shift of atmosphere, Muichiro abruptly asked, “Does this mean that…you don't get heats anymore?” Muichiro was curious because he doesn't understand this whole secondary gender thing quite yet—he knew surface level stuff like preparing for a heat and nesting and stuff like that, enough so that he gets through it but he doesn't really know much about the rest.
Giyuu replied calmly, “No, once an omega is pregnant, their heat cycles are put to a stop, as well as their alpha's ruts to accommodate for pups.”
Muichiro blinked, realizing he’d gone quiet too long. “I didn’t know that about heats,” he finally said, circling back to the original topic. “Or ruts being suppressed when someone’s pregnant.”
“It’s instinct,” Giyuu explained softly. “The body and the bond focuses entirely on protecting the new life. Hormones shift to stabilize both the parent and the pups. That’s why omegas don’t need to do as much once pregnancy progresses. It’s the unlimited interactions of the mated pair that is essential, and the pups are the priority.”
Muichiro gave a small nod. Giyuu continued to explain, “The bond suppresses anything that might take away attention from taking care of the pups. Since the main priority of both parents is to care for the pup and…for each other.” Muichiro caught the weight in that last statement. His brows furrowed.
Giyuu didn’t seem eager to dwell on it though. Instead, he placed a careful hand over the crest of his belly again, rubbing slow, absent-minded circles. “The instincts are complicated. Most omegas don’t really learn the deeper details until they’re already bonded or expecting.”
Muichiro nodded slowly, he didn't know that happened—now that this topic was brought up, Muichiro is compelled to explore the side of his inner omega but now that he has, he was interested, especially with Giyuu in front of him answering his string of questions. He doesn't fully understand the extent of being mated to someone either but…Giyuu didn’t make it sound discouraging, likely implying that it's different for everyone.
“Doesn't it hurt? To be away from your mate?”
Giyuu looked at the distance for a moment. He didn’t answer immediately but then slowly nodded and said “A little bit, not all the time. Atleast, only because I'm used to it. Maybe he is too.”
A week has passed.
Giyuu laid on the bed in the butterfly estate. Oyakata-sama, through Amane in letters, had heavily advised that Giyuu should see a healer to track his pregnancy. Of course, Giyuu stalled…he doesn’t know why but it felt…weird to go alone in a way.
So he chose to put it off until Amane herself advises him to just at least go to Kocho for this if he wasn’t comfortable with other healers. Giyuu thought that that was even worse than actually seeing a local healer. But Amane and Oyakata-sama were relentless, even Urokodaki was concerned, so he agreed reluctantly.
The walk through the halls was daunting, he knew that everyone who passed by him was staring at him—better yet—his prominent swollen belly. Especially one of Kocho’s tsuguko, what was her name? He doesn’t remember, just that he knows she has high pigtails contrary to the other one that only has a ponytail.
The three little girls surprisingly didn’t openly gawk at him even though he thought they’d be the most obvious ones. Giyuu senses that they’re spying on him—not just in his line of sight because he could feel them shuffling about.
Before he could gather the will to knock, the door slid open.
Kocho stood on the other side, already wearing her professional smile, though there was something subtly off about it. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Tomioka-san,” she greeted, voice lilting with a peculiar trill, “you’re right on time.”
Giyuu blinked. “Did I keep you waiting?”
Her smile faltered a fraction. “Uh, no! No, I was only… anticipating your arrival,” she answered quickly, a nervous undertone crawling into her usually unshakable composure.
He raised an eyebrow. That was unlike her. Still, he stepped inside when she moved to the side, wordlessly following her motion as she gestured toward the bed.
The room smelled faintly of sterilized herbs and floral tinctures. Clean. Unthreatening. But Giyuu’s entire body remained tense, knees stiff when he sat down at the edge of the examination bed, back straight as a blade.
Shinobu busied herself with items on the nearby desk: notes, gauze, scrolls of records, and what looked like newer, hand-stitched instruments for omega care—ones she clearly didn’t use often. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted them.
“I assume,” Giyuu began, watching her warily, “you have limited knowledge in obstetrics?”
Shinobu froze for a second, shoulders tensing. Then she sighed, admitting through clenched teeth, “…Yes.”
“Surely, you know what you’re doing?” His voice was calm, but it lacked its usual softness. It wasn’t mocking, but there was an edge to it. A weary need to be reassured.
She let out a more relieved sigh at that. “Of course. I’ve studied enough. I’m just not very… confident in this field of medicine. It’s not where my expertise lies.”
Giyuu was quiet, he didn’t mind anyway. Then she added more gently, “May I ask why you came to me instead of an experienced midwife?”
He hesitated. “I didn’t want to go alone.”
A beat passed. Shinobu tilted her head slightly, eyeing him with the clinical precision of someone used to peeling layers apart. “How about your alpha?” she asked carefully. “Shouldn’t he be with you right now?”
A long pause. Giyuu probably shouldn’t be admitting this personal information about himself but…what’s there to hide anyway? It’s not like he’s confessing some sort of immoral act.
“He…” Giyuu’s throat tightened. “He is occupied at the moment.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question as to why you’re here,” she said softly, not pushing but not letting the question slide either, “and not with a proper healer.”
“I’m not comfortable with other people,” he murmured. “I’m sure you’re aware.”
Kocho sighed, “Painfully so.” The corner of his mouth tugged upward—just for a breath. Not quite a smile. But the expression faded almost immediately. “I trust your judgment, Kocho,” he said simply. Something unreadable passed through her eyes. Compassion, maybe. Or pity. He hoped it wasn’t pity.
Kocho moved closer, her steps lighter than air as she washed her hands and pulled a stool beside him. Her movements were precise, but there was still a visible stiffness in the way she touched his wrist to feel for his pulse, or placed her hand over his belly to measure the position of the child.
A surge of sadness bloomed in Giyuu’s chest, warm and suffocating—then it burst, spilling out of him without permission upon realizing how pathetic it is to not have an alpha by your side during check-ups.
Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, first a trickle, then a steady flow. They rolled down his cheeks, soaking the sides of his face, catching the soft light from the nearby window. His throat felt tight, like his own silence was choking him.
Gosh, he was a mess.
His hands trembled slightly on the bed. His breath hitched. He didn’t sob—of course he didn’t, that felt impossible—but his tears continued as if his body was crying for him, even if his voice refused to.
“T-Tomioka-san?” Shinobu’s voice broke through the haze. “Are you okay?”
He blinked hard, the tears blurring his vision until she was just a moving silhouette.
“I apologize,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “Does something hurt?”
Giyuu gave a shaky breath. “N-no,” he murmured. “I’m fine. Nothing hurts.”
Shinobu looked unconvinced. “Uh… okay. You’re still crying, though.”
“I’m aware, Kocho,” he replied stiffly, blinking again as another tear traced the curve of his jaw.
Kocho didn’t say anything more. She gave him a moment to collect himself and offered a handkerchief instead. She probably doesn’t have any idea how to console a moody pregnant omega anyway.
Once Giyuu cleared off his thundering skies, Kocho restarted her assessment, this time her movements were more relaxed. Like she was comforted by the fact that they were both trying to figure this out together.
Kocho hummed as she scribbled a few notes on a scroll, eyes flicking up now and then to glance at him. “How far along are you now?”
Giyuu shifted slightly, the pressure on his back eased as he adjusted his position. “Only five months.”
“Ah, your second trimester,” she said, setting down her pen and standing to take a closer look.
“Yes.”
She approached with that signature calm grace of hers, hands tucked behind her back. She paused in front of him and knelt slightly to examine the gentle swell of his stomach. Her eyes narrowed.
He watched her with faint amusement. Her brows furrowed the longer she looked. Her lips pursed thoughtfully. She tilted her head one way, then the other, and leaned in even closer.
Finally, her voice lifted in quiet surprise: “You… don’t look five months along.”
Giyuu raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Not in a bad way!” she clarified quickly, waving her hands as if to brush away offense. “It’s just that—usually at five months, especially with your build, I’d expect your belly to be slightly smaller than this. It’s rounder. Heavier.”
He blinked at her, unimpressed.
She took a breath and leaned back on her heels. Then, her eyes widened—suddenly, dramatically—and she gasped like she had just solved a mystery in one of her novels. “Oh my.”
Giyuu arched an eyebrow, face flat. “What?”
Shinobu straightened up, pointing an accusatory but delicate finger toward his belly. “You’re having twins.”
A long pause.
Giyuu blinked slowly, then deadpanned, “I already know that...”
The room was silent for a second. Kocho stared at him, dumbfounded. “You—wait, you knew already? And you didn’t tell me?”
“You didn’t ask,” Giyuu replied plainly, folding his hands back over his stomach. “And it was in the report Urokodaki gave you.”
Shinobu flushed slightly. “I may have… skimmed.”
Giyuu huffed softly, something close to a laugh but not quite. Kocho, however, was still reeling. She backed up and sat on her stool, mumbling under her breath, “Twins. You’re pregnant with twins.”
It hit her all at once—Giyuu Tomioka was five months pregnant with twins, and yet she had just heard from Mitsuri that he was still sparring regularly, sometimes even winning. Winning. At five months.
“Mitsuri was just praising you last week, you know,” she said aloud, shaking her head as if to make the image of him fighting in his current condition make more sense. “She said you were still keeping up with everyone. I thought she was exaggerating, but…”
Kocho’s eyes widened again. “Are you sure it’s safe that you’re sparring while pregnant with twins?”
Giyuu tilted his head slightly, his tone dry, a big contrast to the crying mess he was earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me that?”
She turned red. “Right,” she said, clearing her throat and averting her gaze. That was why he was here, after all. She was supposed to be his medical provider, not the one asking the questions.
She exhaled slowly and set her clipboard down. “Well… you won’t stop if I do, anyway.”
“No,” Giyuu agreed simply. “I won’t.”
Giyuu understood why Shinobu had reacted with such stunned surprise. After all, her gasp was nearly identical to his own reaction the moment he’d first heard the news. That day, it was just him, the midwife Urokodaki introduced him to, and the soft clinking of her tools as she wrapped a cord around her and carefully laid a hand over his barely-there bump.
“I’m hearing two heartbeats,” she had said gently, blinking in surprise. “Twins.”
Twins.
The word hit him like a thrown blade—quick and clean at first, but the implications cut deep and slow. His throat had gone dry. He hadn’t known what to say then either. He just stared at her, too stunned to even blink.
She had smiled brightly after confirming with her tools. “You’re quite the marvel, Tomioka-san,” she had said with an enthusiastic nod. “It’s not every day we see something like this, especially with a first pregnancy. Your body took to conception unusually well. Carrying twins is a blessing, a rare one. Especially in this era…”
Giyuu remembered blinking slowly. “A… blessing?”
“Oh yes,” the midwife went on, clearly delighted. “It speaks volumes about your health and strength as an omega. And your alpha, too—your mate must have incredibly strong genes. Twins don’t just happen without reason. In fact, it’s said that those born under such rare circumstances are marked by fate itself. This is extraordinary.”
Her words had flooded his mind like water crashing into a sealed room. Strength? A blessing? Strong genes? Giyuu had sat there, barely able to process the praise. Him? A strong omega? A body “marked by fate”? He didn’t feel that way. He felt… exhausted. Confused. Pregnant.
And carrying two babies now.
He wasn’t sure if he should feel proud of this—if it even qualified as some sort of accomplishment. It wasn’t like he’d planned for it. Was it an achievement just because it was rare? Or hard? Was he supposed to celebrate his fertility, of all things?
He looked down now at the shape of his growing belly, remembering the way the healer had smiled, her eyes filled with warmth as she spoke about strength and blessings. The words clung to him like burrs.
Twins would mean—
Double the diapers. Double the crying. Double the sleepless nights. Double the responsibility. Double the risk. Two fragile little lives that depended entirely on him. On his body, his stability, his future. And Giyuu—he didn’t even know if he was going to survive this war.
A shudder passed through him.
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to steady his breath. His heart pounded behind his ribs, dull and relentless.
How am I going to raise children by myself?
The thought returned again, heavier each time it appeared. Even now, sitting in Shinobu’s clinic, five months in, he still didn’t have an answer. Sanemi wasn’t here. He was buried in—whatever. Giyuu had long stopped waiting on that front.
But he wouldn’t be completely alone. Ubuyashiki-sama had promised as much. If Giyuu lived, if the twins lived—there would be help. There would be guidance. The other Hashira, despite their rough exteriors and temperaments, would never let the children go uncared for. He knew that.
But still… it wasn’t the same.
He rubbed his stomach absently, feeling the soft nudge of movement under his palm.
The future was so uncertain. The war loomed closer with each day, like a shadow falling over the earth inch by inch. Giyuu had accepted that, in his own quiet way. He wasn’t afraid of dying.
But now… he was afraid of leaving them.
His chest ached.
He wouldn’t back down, though. No matter what. No matter how afraid he was. He owed it to Sabito and Tsutako, to Urokodaki, to Ubuyashiki. And now, more than anything—he owed it to the two small lives growing inside him.
He’d fight.
He had to.
Giyuu stood on Gyomei’s private training grounds, bokuto in hand. The faint hum of cicadas served as a backdrop to his quiet breaths as he prepared himself mentally.
The sun hung low in the sky, warm golden light streaming through the trees and casting long, dappled shadows over the stone paths of the Stone Hashira’s estate. The soft sound of wind chimes echoed faintly in the afternoon air, mingling with the earthy scent of moss and stone.
Sparring with Himejima Gyomei was always an intense experience, one that tested his precision and endurance in ways few others could. But this time felt… different. The weight he carried in his belly—not only physical, but emotional—reminded him that he wasn’t the same as before. Still, he’d come here to prove something. Perhaps not to Gyomei, or even to Oyakata-sama, but to himself.
Across from him, Gyomei stood in the courtyard with his usual calm, prayer beads wound loosely around one large hand. His imposing figure was framed by the soft glow of the afternoon sun, the long sleeves of his haori swaying gently in the breeze.
“Shall we begin, Tomioka?” Gyomei asked, his deep voice as steady as stone.
Giyuu nodded wordlessly, adjusting his grip on the bokuto. He took a breath, letting it flow out in a slow exhale before he stepped forward, launching the first strike.
It was precise and clean—water breathing infused in the flow of his movement. Yet, as the tip of his bokuto cut through the air, Gyomei shifted subtly, his body flowing like a boulder rolling aside with perfect timing. The strike missed.
Another attack. Then another.
Each slash was evaded with quiet efficiency. Gyomei didn’t parry, didn’t even lift his weapon. He only moved—fluidly, deliberately—dodging every single attempt without countering.
The minutes dragged on, Giyuu’s brows furrowing slightly as he realized what was happening. His strikes grew sharper, faster, forcing Gyomei to step back or pivot in response. But not once did the Stone Hashira swing his own weapon.
Finally, Giyuu stopped. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths as he lowered his bokuto. “You’re… holding back.”
It wasn’t an accusation. It was an observation, quiet but tinged with disappointment. Gyomei remained still, the faintest crease forming between his brows. He let out a deep sigh and clasped his hands together with the beads, bowing slightly toward Giyuu.
“I apologize, Tomioka,” Gyomei said softly. “I refuse to raise my weapon against you in your current condition.” He even bowed slightly.
Giyuu blinked in surprise, taken aback by both the apology and the words, especially because Himejima was older than him and did nothing wrong in the first place. Giyuu quickly waved him off. “There’s no need to bow,” Giyuu said quietly, his tone carrying its usual calm neutrality, though there was a faint edge of weariness there too. “I don’t mind if you do not want to spar.”
Himejima straightened, his expression unreadable but the faintest crease in his brow betrayed the emotions stirring beneath his stoic surface.
“Very well,” Gyomei said softly.
Giyuu sighed then, a hand unconsciously brushing across his stomach. “Kocho did say that I should take it easy,” he admitted, his voice so low it was almost lost to the breeze. “Especially since I’m carrying twins.”
Himejima hummed politely in response, as if the news wasn’t entirely unexpected. “Ah. I suspected as much.”
That earned him a small quirk of Giyuu’s brow.
“By the way you carry yourself,” Gyomei explained calmly. “Even with your discipline and control, it was clear to me there was no way you were only carrying one pup. The center of balance, the subtle strain when you exhale—it is all very telling for someone who knows what to look for.”
Giyuu said nothing to that, though his lips pressed together faintly in thought.
Himejima’s deep voice broke the silence again. “I don’t doubt your skills and capabilities, Tomioka. You are a Hashira. But I am… simply worried for you and the pups.”
“I understand, Gyomei-san.” Giyuu nodded. He couldn’t blame him, it was Himejima’s morals after all and Giyuu understood that. His voice remained steady, though there was something faintly guarded in his eyes. “I can handle myself.”
Himejima’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Twins, huh? I bet that must be quite the energy consumer.”
A quiet, tired sigh slipped past Giyuu’s lips—not one of exasperation, but more akin to the release of a burden he didn’t know he was holding. “Yes… they can be a lot sometimes.”
“Are you excited at least?” Himejima asked, his tone soft but curious. “I heard they’re even more of a handful once you give birth.”
That earned something surprising: a faint huff of laughter from the Water Hashira. It was quiet and brief, but it carried a warmth Gyomei had never had the privilege of hearing from him before.
“I am, actually,” Giyuu said softly, his hand still resting protectively over his stomach. “I feel like… I’d enjoy it very much.”
Himejima felt something stir in his chest at those words—some unspoken relief, some silent admiration for how much strength it took for this young omega to stand here, carrying two lives and still moving forward as though nothing had changed.
Suddenly, Himejima remembered something. Carefully, Gyomei saw his opening. His voice remained low and measured as he spoke.
“Well,” he began, “I do hope that your alpha is helping you through it. They should be by your side—or…” Gyomei hesitated briefly, though his calm demeanor didn’t falter, “…I apologize if this is rude to ask, but… I hope that you have a mate?”
Giyuu looked up at him, expression unreadable for a moment. Then he shook his head faintly and spoke, voice softer still.
“It isn’t rude at all, Gyomei-san,” he said. “I suppose there’s no point in hiding it anymore… I am mated.”
Himejima’s eyebrows rose at that, faint surprise crossing his features. So Uzui hadn’t been exaggerating when he mentioned catching sight of a mating mark on Tomioka before. It explained why Tomioka had that faint distinctness in his presence…much similar to another Hahsira.
Giyuu continued, his gaze dropping slightly to the stones beneath their feet. “He’s… present in his own way, I suppose.”
There was something in his tone that caught Himejima’s attention immediately. It wasn’t bitterness, nor was it quite resignation. But there was a weight there—an almost imperceptible somberness that spoke volumes.
Himejima studied him for a moment longer, his silence thoughtful. Whoever Giyuu’s alpha was, there was no denying that something lingered unspoken between them. A rough patch, perhaps. Or maybe something deeper. Himejima didn’t pry—not yet—but the instinct to reach out and offer guidance was strong.
“Well,” Gyomei said finally, his voice as calm and even as ever, “if nothing else, I hope they come to their senses and give you the support you deserve. Even the strongest stone needs a foundation, Tomioka.”
Giyuu glanced at him faintly, a subtle flicker in his eyes that Gyomei couldn’t quite place. Then, almost imperceptibly, Giyuu nodded.
“Thank you, Himejima-san.”
Himejima had weighed pressing a little further about the alpha in Giyuu’s life, but his instincts told him not to pry. It felt inappropriate to push a colleague—especially one as private as Tomioka—into revealing details about something as deeply personal as his love life, particularly when it was clear that the subject was uncomfortable for him.
So Himejima let it rest. He let the air settle around them, sensing that Giyuu needed that small bit of reprieve—a moment where he wasn’t Water Hashira or a pregnant omega navigating a complicated mating union, but simply a man finding peace in conversation.
The older alpha tilted his head slightly, sensing the change in the atmosphere as the light deepened into rich shades of gold and orange. Dusk was creeping in.
“I suppose we will not be sparring at all, Tomioka,” Gyomei said gently, his voice carrying its usual calm resonance. “I apologize that you traveled all this way for nothing.”
“Oh, it was no problem,” Giyuu replied, his tone steady but softer than usual. “It was nice talking to you anyway.”
Gyomei smiled faintly, though his eyes—closed though they were—seemed to carry that warmth as well. “I’m glad. Conversation, I think, is just as important as training sometimes.”
He shifted slightly, his height towering even in his casual posture. “I would see you out myself,” he began, “but I need to follow up on the slayer’s training. I’ll have Genya escort you out instead.”
There was the faintest twitch of something on Giyuu’s face at the mention of Genya—almost imperceptible, but Gyomei noticed. He didn’t comment on it, though his thoughts lingered for a moment. Peculiar , he thought silently. It confirmed his suspicions.
“There’s really no need—” Giyuu started, but Gyomei interrupted with a polite firmness.
“I insist, Tomioka. I cannot rest easy knowing that a guest of mine isn’t looked after until the end of their stay. Especially since we didn’t even spar properly at all.”
Giyuu regarded him for a moment, his lips parting slightly before he finally nodded. “…Alright, Gyomei-san. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Gyomei said, dipping his head slightly in respect. “Please wait for him here. He should not take long. I wish you safe travels.”
“You as well,” Giyuu murmured.
Left alone in the courtyard, Giyuu adjusted the scarf at his shoulders, his fingers briefly grazing the curve of his belly. He could feel faint movements inside—soft, rolling kicks that reminded him he wasn’t entirely alone.
As promised, Genya appeared a few minutes later, his steps heavy on the stone path as he approached. His brows were furrowed tightly, and his jaw worked as if he was clenching his teeth.
“Tomioka-san,” Genya said curtly, giving a quick bow that looked more obligatory than respectful.
“Shinazugawa,” Giyuu replied softly, rising to his feet with measured calm, and followed Genya as they began walking toward the estate gates. The air was thick with the hum of insects, and the lanterns along the path flickered faintly as dusk began creeping in. Giyuu’s steps were quiet, his presence nearly unnoticeable.
Giyuu’s mind wandered for a moment as his feet moved on autopilot.
Sanemi had mentioned Genya to him before. It came in fragments—stories told in passing as they lay side by side after heat cycles, or in the quieter moments when words were easier than silence. Sanemi spoke of how Genya became a demon slayer( against his will, the alpha claimed ) despite not having a breathing style, the tragedy of their mother’s death, and the wounds that lingered from their childhood fights. Sometimes it was lighter, too—little memories Sanemi seemed almost shy to share about Genya and his siblings. Memories that made his hard exterior soften, if only for a moment.
Back then, Giyuu would offer his own pieces in return—softly spoken recollections about Sabito and Tsutako, about Urokodaki’s quiet care, about moments where life didn’t feel quite so heavy. Those conversations felt… warm, like they mattered.
But now, Giyuu couldn’t help but wonder if Sanemi had shared those things out of obligation. Had he felt like he needed to offer something—anything—to make their situation less cold? Or had those memories been genuine glimpses into a heart Sanemi rarely showed?
The thought made something tighten faintly in Giyuu’s chest, but he pushed it away. There was no point in dwelling on it now.
Genya, on the other hand, was tense—stiff shoulders, fidgeting hands, and sharp eyes darting around as if expecting trouble to leap out from behind every bush. It wasn’t just nervousness. It was wariness.
Giyuu could practically feel it, and he suspected he knew why.
After all, his reputation wasn’t exactly warm and inviting, and if Genya had even heard a fraction of what people said about him—or about his strained relationship with Sanemi—it would explain the younger Shinazugawa’s guarded demeanor.
The silence stretched between them like a drawn wire. It wasn’t uncomfortable for Giyuu—he preferred quiet—but it was clear Genya was wound tight, like he wanted to say something but was biting it back.
Finally, Giyuu broke the silence with a gentle but steady voice. “Is there something on your mind?”
Genya stiffened slightly. His first instinct was to brush it off—say “no” and keep his head down—but the way Giyuu’s quiet tone cut through the stillness made the words catch in his throat. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he muttered, “Should you be, uh… still sparring with the other Hashira? With your… condition?”
Giyuu hummed softly, a faint, almost amused sound, though his face didn’t shift much. “Probably not,” he admitted honestly, “but I prefer to.”
Genya blinked at the answer, unsure whether he was supposed to challenge it. He decided against it. “Um… how far along are you, Tomioka-san?”
“Nearing six months,” Giyuu replied with calm precision, his hand unconsciously brushing over his lower abdomen as they walked.
Genya didn’t say anything after that. He felt a little awkward with him…
As they walked, however, something tickled at his senses. A scent—so faint he thought he imagined it at first.
Genya sniffed subtly, careful not to make it obvious. There it was again.Familiar. Sharp and wild, like mint and earth. His chest tightened as realization hit him. Aniki’s scent?
But his brother wasn’t here. Nowhere near, in fact. Genya had been sure of it—
He abruptly turned his head, eyes scanning behind them. Nothing. Only the Water Hashira’s calm, steady presence and the quiet path leading out of the estate.
“Is something wrong?” Giyuu asked softly, his dark blue eyes glancing sidelong at him, catching even the faintest flicker of Genya’s unease.
Genya stiffened and quickly looked forward again. “Sorry, I just—never mind.” He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to say anything reckless. The last thing he wanted was to give away how unsettled he felt.
But then, to his surprise, Giyuu spoke again.
“I heard what happened,” he said evenly.
Genya’s brows shot up, startled. “Huh?”
“Tanjiro mentioned it,” Giyuu explained softly. “What happened between you and your brother.”
Ah. That .
Genya’s stomach twisted at the memory. Sanemi’s wild glare, the flash of his fingers suddenly appearing in front of his eye balls, almost losing his sight—if Tanjiro hadn’t stopped him. It was the kind of moment that lodged itself in his chest, heavy and suffocating.
Giyuu’s voice pulled him from the memory. “How have you been doing?”
Genya hesitated. “I’m… not sure. But I’m physically well.”
“Mm.” Giyuu’s quiet hum wasn’t judgmental. It wasn’t pitying either. Just understanding. “You don’t have to pretend that you’re not conflicted. I understand if you’re driven to ask for his forgiveness, but…” He paused briefly, choosing his words with care. “You’re also not obligated to respond to me. I won’t push.”
Genya clenched his fists in his sleeves, the words hitting closer than he expected. He wasn’t used to people saying things like that—not demanding answers, not shoving expectations down his throat. Especially with the Water Hashira of all people, a hashira his brother clashes with.
Despite those notions, Genya couldn’t help but steal a glance at the Water Hashira.
The rumors about him had swirled endlessly among the Kakushi and lower-ranked slayers. They said the Water Hashira was cold. Aloof. Mysterious.
But others whispered things that were harder to ignore—how his beauty was almost unearthly, how standing too close to him felt like trying to breathe underwater, suffocating and awe-inspiring at the same time. Genya had dismissed it all as exaggeration. Kakushi love gossiping anyway, he’d told himself.
But now…
Now, walking beside him, he could see how much they had underestimated.
The cool dusk light caught in Giyuu’s dark hair, turning it ink-blue. His expression was calm but not emotionless, like the surface of a deep pond—still, reflective, yet impossible to see through. His posture was elegant even in the simplest of movements, and there was an understated strength in the way he carried himself, even while visibly pregnant.
Genya swallowed thickly, dragging his gaze away. His heart beat uncomfortably in his chest.
This man—this quiet, detached Hashira—was nothing like he’d expected.
And yet, there was something about him that pulled at Genya’s curiosity, even as his instincts screamed at him to stay on guard.Giyuu’s voice was calm, but there was a softness to it that made Genya’s chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.
“I hope he hasn’t hurt you more than he already has,” Giyuu murmured, his eyes fixed ahead as they walked. “You both have gone through so much.” Genya glanced at the older omega for a moment, how would he know that?
“I think… he’s just scared.”
Genya’s brows furrowed slightly at the choice of words. Scared? Sanemi? The very thought almost made him scoff. His brother didn’t know how to be scared—not of demons, not of pain, not of death. But maybe… maybe that wasn’t what Giyuu meant. Moreover, how the fuck does the Water Hashira know this? And why the fuck is he so fucking confident about it too?
Genya clenched his fists slightly and replied, his voice quieter than before, “I would never misunderstand him… I think we’re both even now, one could say.”
Giyuu exhaled softly, like the weight of that admission reached him too. “That’s good,” he said simply, though there was a faint flicker of emotion in his dark eyes. “Well… thank you for escorting me. I must go.”
Genya felt a pang of hesitation as they reached the edge of the gates.
This is it. Now or never. If I don’t ask, I’ll regret it later…
Giyuu was about to step out.
But the words clawed at his throat, and before his courage faltered, he blurted out, “Uh, Tomioka-san? Are you and aniki… close?”
Giyuu paused mid-step, the air between them shifting slightly. His dark eyes flicked toward Genya, calm but unreadable.
“Something like that,” Giyuu finally said, his voice low and even.
Genya felt his heart hammer in his chest. Something like that? What the hell does that mean? It wasn’t a denial, but it wasn’t a clear answer either.
Before he could stop himself, before doubt made him retreat into silence, Genya asked again, his voice softer this time, “Has he… been well?”
This time, Giyuu’s lips curved—just barely—but it was there. A tiny, faint smile so delicate Genya almost missed it if he hadn’t been watching so intently.
“You know how he is,” Giyuu said, his tone warmer now. “In his own way… he has been well, I suppose.”
Genya’s breath hitched slightly, but Giyuu wasn’t finished.
“I know for certain that he thinks about you a lot. And your family.”
The words hit Genya harder than he expected. His throat tightened, and he felt something hot sting at the corners of his eyes. He thinks about me? About us? Even after all that’s happened?
He didn’t know what to say to that, much less how to react because he heard it from the Water Hashira of all people. For a moment, his mind was a swirling mess of emotions—relief, guilt, hope, and something else he didn’t have a name for.
He was still grateful though. No matter how weird this interaction was.
Genya swallowed hard, bowed slightly, and said, “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”
But Giyuu shook his head gently. “I didn’t mind at all.” His voice was soft, almost reassuring. “I’ll see you later.”
I’ll see you later?
And with that, Giyuu turned gracefully, the soft evening light catching the outline of his figure. He raised a hand in a quiet wave before walking away, his steps as calm and fluid as water rippling across a still pond.
Genya stood there, rooted to the spot, staring after him.
There it was again—that quiet, unearthly beauty that seemed to cling to the Water Hashira like a second skin. Even the way his haori swayed in the breeze felt… mesmerizing somehow.
But more than his beauty, it was the words Giyuu had left behind that echoed in Genya’s head.
“He thinks about you a lot. And your family.”
Genya let out a shaky exhale, his chest tight. He didn’t know what to do with that. Not yet. But for the first time in a long time, the thought of his brother didn’t just burn—it warmed him too.
Sanemi dragged his feet across the engawa of his estate, fingers flexing restlessly as if itching for his blade even though it was already set aside. His shoulders were tight, his head pounding from a concoction of irritation and exhaustion.
“That damn Kamado kid…” he muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face. Always meddling, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Little shit’s really biting my ass these days.
But even Kamado wasn’t the worst of it. No, the real thorn under his skin was the nagging ache in his chest—one he couldn’t shake no matter how many missions he threw himself into or how much he bled on the battlefield.
It had been five months.
Five long, miserable months since he and Giyuu last spoke. Five months since he last held him, touched him, or even heard his voice beyond perfunctory exchanges at Hashira meetings.
Sanemi clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.
What the hell happened?
He thought they were fine—more than fine. Sure, they weren’t like Mitsuri and Iguro, all sweet smiles and hearts in their eyes, but Giyuu wasn’t like that. And Sanemi didn’t need that. They had their own rhythm, their own quiet understanding, and it worked.
Until suddenly, it didn’t.
Ever since that mission in the mountains, Giyuu had been… distant. Withdrawn in a way that Sanemi couldn’t fix no matter how hard he tried.
The memory of that mission gnawed at him even now.
It was supposed to be simple. In and out. His crow had debriefed it as an easy kill—“One rogue demon terrorizing the outskirts of a mountain village. No reinforcements needed.”
Bullshit.
For the most part, it was easy. The demon wasn’t particularly strong, not for someone of Sanemi’s caliber. But what he hadn’t expected was the tangled mess of human lives he’d stepped into along the way.
The family in that village wasn’t just another scared, trembling group of survivors.
No.
They were something much darker.
He remembered the old man’s words as he bled out on the tatami, voice hoarse but steady as he spoke of their “sacred duty.”
“This family… for generations, we have honored the pact,” the man rasped. “Each daughter—no matter if she’s an alpha, beta, or omega—is perfected to be offered to the clan that protects us. They take her, bond her, wed her, and secure our future.”
Sanemi’s lip curled. “And you’re proud of that?”
The man didn’t answer. His milky eyes stared past Sanemi, seeing something—or someone—long gone.
“They told us… once the union bears fruit, there is no escape. The bond ties them together. The children… the children carry on the bloodline. For business, our livelihood.”
Sanemi had felt a chill crawl down his spine, one that no amount of adrenaline could chase away.
This wasn’t protection. It was breeding. The couple were supposed to get married that night.
The air in the mountains was heavy, saturated with incense and lantern smoke, and the soft hum of music floated eerily across the treetops. Beneath the glow of paper lanterns, the wedding procession moved like shadows—white-clad figures walking under the canopy of an ancient cedar tree.
Sanemi crouched low on the branch of a nearby tree, eyes narrowed, suppressing a growl in his throat. A wedding under the moonlight. Just like the crow said.
He hated missions like these. Not because they were dangerous—they weren’t, not for him—but because they reminded him too much of how low humanity could sink when fear and desperation gnawed at their hearts.
What was supposed to be a sacred event, a joyous celebration, reeked of something rotten.
For a week now, the festivities had continued, each night grander and more indulgent than the last. And with each passing night, more and more people from the village went missing. At first, it had been servants and wandering merchants. Then, guests.
An anonymous tip from a villager had reached the Corps. That was how Sanemi found himself here, hidden in the trees, tracking the scent of blood and malice that wafted through the air, thick as syrup.
He arrived just in time to see it.
The bride stood stiffly under the cedar, her expression unreadable as the groom approached her with an oily smile. His hand reached for hers, and Sanemi’s sharp eyes caught the slight flinch she gave. Behind them, children clung to their mother’s skirts, their little faces pale and wet with tears.
And then—
A rustling in the branches above. A low, guttural laugh. Two glowing eyes peered down from the twisted limbs of the sacred cedar. The demon.
Sanemi’s grip on his sword tightened.
But it wasn’t the demon that made his stomach turn. No—it was the groom.
The moment the demon dropped down from the tree with a thud, its claws flashing in the moonlight, the bride screamed, clutching her children close. The groom, however, didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he smiled. “Master,” the groom murmured to the creature, bowing slightly. “You honor me with your presence.” Sanemi’s lip curled. The demon let out a cruel chuckle, sharp teeth glinting as it circled the humans like a predator savoring its prey.
“You’ve done well,” it hissed. “So many delicious souls… and such fear in the air. Truly, you’ve been a fine servant to me.” The bride’s eyes widened in horror. “Wh-What…?” she whispered.
The groom’s smile twisted. “You think I wanted this farce?” he spat, his voice suddenly venomous. “You think I ever wanted you? I only agreed because of the deal.”
“The deal?” the bride echoed, trembling. He sneered. “In exchange for my prosperity, the demon feasts. My guests, my family… all of them.”
“You monster!” she screamed, clutching her bleeding arm where the demon had slashed her earlier. The demon’s claws flexed lazily as it grinned down at her. “Now, now… you should be grateful. Your pitiful little children wouldn’t have survived long anyway. Your husband was kind enough to offer you all up—”
“Take them instead!” the groom barked suddenly, shoving his wife toward the demon. “Take them and let me live!” The children wailed as their mother stumbled, her eyes wide with betrayal. “Even your own children?” the demon asked mockingly.
“They’re nothing to me!” the groom cried. “Take them all—I fulfilled my end of the bargain!”
Sanemi’s stomach lurched.
This bastard…
And then—
The groom made his move. In one desperate motion, he grabbed the smallest child by the arm and hurled him toward the demon. “Here! Take him first! Just spare me!”
Sanemi moved before he even thought about it. His blade flashed, intercepting the demon’s claw mid-swing before it could snatch the screaming child from the air. Blood sprayed as the creature howled in fury, recoiling from the unexpected strike.
“W-Who—?!” the groom stammered, spinning around. Sanemi’s eyes blazed with fury as he stepped forward, catching the child in one arm while pointing his blade directly at the man’s throat.
“You’re more of a demon than the thing you made a deal with,” Sanemi snarled.
The groom’s face went pale. “P-Please! You don’t understand!”
“No, you don’t understand.” Sanemi’s voice was ice. “You made a deal with the devil. And now you’re throwing your own flesh and blood into its jaws to save yourself?”
The bride collapsed to her knees, clutching her children and sobbing. “Please,” she whispered. “Save us…”
Sanemi’s knuckles whitened around his sword hilt.
The demon lunged again, shrieking.
Sanemi moved like lightning, slicing its head clean off in one smooth motion. The creature’s body crumpled to the ground, dissolving into ash.
Silence fell over the clearing.
Sanemi turned to the groom, his expression unreadable. “I should let the villagers deal with you,” he said coldly.
The man fell to his knees, blubbering. “P-Please! I-I didn’t want this! I was forced—”
Sanemi cut him off with a sharp glare. “Spare me your excuses. You had a choice.”
And without another word, Sanemi walked away, leaving the man screaming and begging in the dirt.
As he trudged back down the mountain, his mind spun.
How many more people are like that groom? How many are bound in twisted unions they never wanted? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. And for the first time, he felt a deep, gnawing fear in his chest.
What if Giyuu felt the same way about him?
He didn’t have time to ponder over it because he needed to take care of the damage the demon and the groom made.
A Kakushi approached him some time later, asking about the extent of the damage and the reason for its occurrence for the report. Sanemi explained dutifully as the Kakushi listened attentively.
Sanemi harshly spat out, “If the bastard wanted to go solo in inheriting their business so damn bad then he shouldn't have made a deal with a fucking demon.”
“The groom made a deal with a demon?” The Kakushi sounded scandalized, as he should be.
“Apparently, the asshole didn't want to get married or mated to the omega his clan gave him so he made a whole tantrum about it.”
The Kakushi added seriously, “And he injured 64 people and killed another 50 because of that decision.”
Sanemi sighed, he couldn’t believe that people would go that far to break off an arranged union. “Tell me about it.”
“If given the chance, would you break off the bond with your not chosen omega, Shinazugawa-sama?”
Sanemi’s insulted scoff echoed in the space between them. “Of course I fucking would. I would have dissolved my bond mark without hesitation,” Sanemi had said, voice rough and stripped of emotion. “What else does it fucking give but obligation—and for what? For me to control them because I bit their neck? For me to subject them to a loveless marriage? For them to stay with me when I can't give them the same affection? They deserve better than that, better than convenience. No, I wouldn't trap them like that.”
The Kakushi replies in an indifferent tone, “I suppose you’re right. It must surely impact one’s parenting, in a way.” It was the kind of voice that doesn’t have intentions of thinking too deeply about the subject.
“Damn right it does. Don’t even get me fucking started on shit like that, tons of wasted time is what it is.”
“Do you not have any intentions of becoming a father, Shinazugawa-sama?”
“Of course not—” Sanemi spat out the reply bitterly. “—I won’t do any of that. They deserve better than me because I'd fuck it up like that groom did with his. I wouldn't deserve them. I'd probably be shit at it, make my kids fucked up like me then they'll hate me like I did with my bastard father. But I wouldn’t have made a deal with a fucking demon.”
The Kakushi hummed in agreement. “What happened to that family is exactly how you described it, Shinazugawa-sama.” Another Kakushi waved at him, likely needing assistance, so Sanemi dismissed him. The Kakushi bowed before he left.
The memory happened months ago and yet it clung to him. The thought of being forced into a bond, used as nothing more than a means to bear the next generation…
It made his skin crawl. And it made him think of Giyuu. Sanemi raked a hand through his hair now, walking through the threshold of his home.
Was that why? Was that why Giyuu pulled away?
Sanemi had been so sure their bond was mutual. That despite the circumstances that led to them to mate—a fatal blood demon art—it had grown into something real.
Sanemi was utterly confused by Giyuu's words. He'd been so careful of even unintentionally rejecting the omega that he didn't notice Giyuu would be the one rejecting him.
And still—Giyuu reached out to him so they could spend his heat together and Sanemi thought that maybe he was mistaken—maybe Giyuu lashed out the way he did because he was in pre-heat.
Either way, Sanemi didn't know what it actually meant until Giyuu didn't reach out for him at all after those days. It's not like he often did, but Sanemi was still distraught by the lack of interaction at all. It was like Giyuu was pulling away for no reason, he thought they were past that but apparently they weren’t at all.
Maybe Giyuu saw Sanemi as convenient, someone he could cling to when he's lonely.
Shit , he's such a fool. "There was never an us, Sanemi." If there wasn't anything between them in the first place, then what was it? What was he to Giyuu? Maybe the omega was one of those people who thrived in loneliness and independence.
Sanemi’s throat felt tight, his chest heavier than any wound he’d suffered on the battlefield.
“What the hell did I do to fuck this up?” he whispered to no one.
His contemplation was cut off from a voice all too familiar to ignore. A voice his body could recognize even if he was stripped of his senses.
“Aniki!”
Sanemi didn’t want Genya to be in the Corps—he wasn’t supposed to suffer more than he already has—
“I even ate demons…”
Sanemi was shocked into halting his movements. What the fuck did he just say?
How could Genya eat something that hurt him?
What a stupid question. Sanemi already knew the answer to that. Didn’t Genya understand that he didn’t need to apologize? That he probably deserved to be called a murderer? That he should be out there living a normal life, far away from the despair of the world? Far away from the pains his older brother gave to him?
Sanemi did the only thing he thought would keep Genya away from him: pushing him away.
Finally, today was the dreaded day Giyuu had hoped—prayed—to avoid.
The Wind and Water Hashira’s turn to spar.
He knew it was inevitable. The Hashira training rotation left no room for favoritism or avoidance. The sun hung high overhead, its light harsh as it cast long shadows across Giyuu’s estate. The air smelled faintly of crushed grass and cedarwood as the two men faced each other in the quiet clearing, wooden swords clutched in their hands.
Work was different from who they were outside of it, so sparring should’ve been easy. Giyuu knew that. His body moved on muscle memory alone as he raised his blade and met Sanemi’s gaze.
But it wasn’t.
The tension between them was subtle yet sharp, cutting deeper than any sword.
Sanemi lunged forward, his attacks fast and vicious, his bokuto whistling as it sliced through the air. The taunts didn’t faze him. Not anymore. Giyuu ducked and parried, his expression unchanging. The sound of silence hurt more than any insult Sanemi could ever throw.
Once upon a time, that voice had been rough but gentle with him in private—low and teasing in the early hours of the morning, whispering reassurances against his temple after long missions. Now, it was reduced to barbs and barks on the training grounds.
Yet today felt… different.
Sanemi’s strikes were just as brutal, his stance just as unyielding, and his crazed, bloodshot gaze still burned with that familiar intensity. But beneath it, Giyuu sensed something else. The alpha was unusually quiet between blows. No sneering commentary, no cursing under his breath about Giyuu’s “stupid face” or “annoying silence.”
It wasn’t related to combat—Giyuu could tell. His movements were sharp and precise, but his aura felt… off. Contemplative, somehow.
Why?
Did Sanemi feel it too? The suffocating weight of unspoken words and broken trust that clung to them like a stormcloud? The fight grew heated. Wooden blades clashed, the sound reverberating like thunder. Giyuu’s body ached—not from the sparring itself, but from the effort of holding himself together.
He didn’t know how long it would have gone on if not for Tanjiro.
Truthfully, he was grateful that Tanjiro intercepted them right before he and Sanemi were going to apparently pummel each other to death with fists; he knew the alpha wouldn’t actually do it, not when he was carrying his pups.
Of course, Giyuu already knew that Sanemi’s favorite snack was ohagi and matcha, that was what he was supposed to prepare for their anniversary this year…which might not happen anymore. Giyuu mentally shook his head.
“Ohagi’s delicious!” Tanjiro said suddenly, trying to defuse the situation with his bright, eager tone. “Do you like crushed or coarse red beans? I loved my grandma’s ohagi, and—”
It happened in a blink. Sanemi’s fist shot out like a viper.
Wham!
Tanjiro crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
“Sanemi!” Giyuu hissed, lowering his sword and rushing forward.
The alpha rolled his eyes, his lips curled into a sneer.
“Don’t hiss at me, Tomioka,” he snapped, shaking his hand like the impact had irritated him. “That damn brat doesn’t know when to shut up.”
“Even so, you didn’t have to punch him,” Giyuu said sharply, crouching down to check Tanjiro’s pulse. It was steady—thankfully—but his stomach still twisted.
Sanemi scoffed and rolled his eyes, the sound sharp and derisive. Of course you’d defend that brat his expression said, though he didn’t speak the words aloud.
Instead of answering Sanemi’s sharp eye roll with a glare of his own, Giyuu’s mind flickered elsewhere.
He remembered something Tanjiro mentioned in one of his letters—a letter sent during a quiet evening where Tanjiro’s words carried that same earnest weight as his voice. “Genya and Shinazugawa-san… they fought. It was bad, but I think Genya still wants to fix things.”
And then Giyuu recalled his conversation with Genya the week before. The younger Shinazugawa had been nervous, the words teetering on the edge of his tongue like they might crumble before they left his mouth.
“Has he… been well?” Genya had asked.
“You know how he is… In his own way, he’s been well, I suppose.”
He let the memory settle like ripples in still water before speaking. His voice was even, quiet, yet carried across the training grounds with unshakable steadiness.
“I heard what happened with your brother.”
Sanemi froze mid-step, the tension in his shoulders coiling like a spring ready to snap. “How the fuck did you—” his voice came out low, gravelly, biting.
“Tanjiro told me,” Giyuu interrupted softly.
“That fucking brat ,” Sanemi snarled, his teeth bared like an enraged wolf. Sanemi took a step forward, as if testing the waters of Giyuu’s determination.
But Giyuu didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. His fingers relaxed slightly on the wooden sword, his expression unreadable.
“Stay away from me, Shinazugawa.”
That quiet dip of water burned the alpha far more than any hiss or retort could have.
Sanemi’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked at the side of his face. For a moment, it seemed like he might lunge forward—to yell, to argue, to demand why the hell Giyuu always managed to strike where it hurt most.
But then he scoffed, sharp and bitter, like always. “Whatever,” he spat, though his voice faltered ever so slightly at the edges.
And just like that, he vanished in a blur of movement, his haori whipping violently behind him as he disappeared from sight.
He left. Just like he always does.
They could feel Muzan’s presence grow closer everyday.
The heavy air of resolve and unspoken fears clung to the walls of Ubuyashiki’s estate like fog. This could be the last time they all gathered like this, Giyuu thought quietly to himself, his hand absentmindedly brushing over the slight swell beneath his uniform as if to ground himself. The discussion had been grueling. Muzan. Their master’s safety. The fate of everyone here.
Sanemi brought up, “We should at least have two pillars guarding Oyakata-sama at minimum. Can’t you do something about this, Himejima-san?”
Gyomei’s deep rumble of a voice had answered with weighty finality:
“Impossible. I became a Pillar when I was nineteen, and I have been asking him for eight straight years. But he refuses to budge… He insists that someone as strong as a pillar shouldn’t be wasted on the likes of him… it’s a problem.”
Shinobu’s sharp voice had added lightly, but with an underlying concern, “I heard that the heads of the Ubuyashiki family have never even had a bodyguard throughout history…”
The meeting wrapped up with the bitter taste of helplessness lingering in their mouths. They all wanted to protect their master and his family, but they couldn’t bring themselves to disobey his wishes. When Gyomei dismissed them with a solemn, “That will be all,” the Hashira began shuffling to their feet.
Before Giyuu could even turn to leave, Mitsuri whipped her head to look at him with her usual warmth and an ever-chirping voice, her pink-green hair swaying like trailing ribbons.
“Tomioka-san! Have you been well?” she asked, her smile like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Giyuu opened his mouth, unsure how to answer, when Shinobu’s voice cut across the room with the sharpness of a blade, though her tone was deceptively light and teasing. “I know, right? It must be hard carrying twins all day. Also, please don’t skip out on your check-ups…”
Giyuu flinched almost imperceptibly. Twins.
He had kept that detail quiet from most of them, not because he was ashamed—though part of him wondered if Sanemi might think that—but because he simply hadn’t wanted it to become a topic of discussion.
In his peripheral vision, he caught it: Sanemi’s expression hardened in an instant.
A muscle in his jaw ticked, his hands curling slightly at his sides. The usual fire in his eyes was replaced by something sharper, quieter—shock disguised beneath a stormcloud of fury and disbelief.
Giyuu’s stomach churned. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like this.
Before he could even process it further, Mitsuri let out a squeal so loud it felt like the room itself vibrated.
“Oh my goodness! Tomioka-san, you’re having twins!?”
Her hands clasped together in front of her chest, eyes sparkling with joy. The reaction was so purely Mitsuri that Giyuu couldn’t even be annoyed, only overwhelmed. He gave a small nod in response, unable to find the words under the weight of so many stares.
In contrast to Mitsuri’s effusive excitement, Iguro stood frozen like a coiled serpent ready to strike. The disbelief on his face wasn’t nearly as loud as Mitsuri’s reaction, but it was just as palpable. His mismatched eyes flickered between Giyuu and Sanemi, as though he was trying to put together a puzzle he didn’t know he had been handed.
Himejima, however, was serene, as steady as ever. He folded his massive hands together and offered a calm, warm smile in his usual tone of unshakable optimism. “It truly is exciting,” he rumbled. For Gyomei, that was the equivalent of Mitsuri’s squealing, and it made Giyuu feel a little lighter.
But he couldn’t ignore the flare of heat on his skin as Sanemi’s piercing gaze drilled into him. The weight of the alpha’s stare burned like wildfire even though Giyuu didn’t dare look directly back. He knew that look. It was confusion. It was anger. It was betrayal.
It was because he found out like this.
Sanemi’s scent, faint but sharp in the room, spiked for a fraction of a second before it flattened into nothingness. The sudden absence of it felt louder than Mitsuri’s squeals or Shinobu’s gentle teasing.
Giyuu swallowed hard, forcing his expression to remain placid.
He shouldn’t have found out like this.
The moment they stepped outside, the afternoon sun biting at their skin, Giyuu felt it in his gut—this was about to get ugly.
The other Hashira were still lingering nearby, scattered in small clusters, their voices murmuring lowly. As Giyuu expected, Sanemi’s voice cut through all of it, loud and sharp, enough for everyone to turn their heads.
“Didn’t bother to tell me that you’re carrying my children ?”
It felt like all sound in the world died at once. Even the faint rustle of wind through the trees seemed to still. Giyuu froze mid-step, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his haori. This was exactly what he feared would happen.
Sooner or later, Sanemi would explode—and he had to admit he was surprised it didn’t happen the instant Shinobu blurted it out. Still, he couldn’t afford to lose his composure here. Not in front of them. Not in front of Sanemi.
“They’re not yours,” Giyuu said evenly, his tone flat but razor-sharp.
Sanemi scoffed, the sound guttural, almost like a bark. His eyes gleamed with something feral as he took a step closer. “Really? Whose are they then?”
Giyuu’s voice hardened, each word falling like a stone. “They’re mine . Mine and mine only .”
That earned a bitter laugh from Sanemi, though there was nothing remotely amused about it. “See? This is what’s wrong with you, Tomioka. You only ever consider what you want and what you feel—”
Giyuu’s patience cracked like thin ice under too much weight. “Maybe I’m just being careful in case they aren’t honest with me!”
“Oh, here you go again with your fucking honesty! Give it a rest!” Sanemi’s voice rose, harsh and raw. “You’re the one with honesty problems!”
Giyuu’s hand shot out, pointing an accusatory finger right at Sanemi’s chest. “Because you did it first!”
Sanemi’s brows furrowed, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “I never did shit! I don’t even know what the fuck you’re going on about! You always gotta be so damn cryptic about everything, and if I read you wrong, suddenly it’s my fault? You barely tell me anything and you expect me to just—get you? It’s not that easy!”
“I don’t expect you to get me!” Giyuu’s voice cracked ever so slightly, though the sharp edge didn’t dull. “I just wanted you to understand that they’re not all hopeless. I didn’t think you’d lie to me about us!”
“This is unbelievable,” Sanemi growled, his scent flaring—bitter, sharp, like scorched earth. “How do you expect me to just understand that when your life is at risk if they make one wrong move?”
“Our lives are at risk anyway, whether they make a wrong move or not!” Giyuu’s voice grew quieter but no less lethal. He drew in a sharp breath before adding, “You said it yourself—we’re not even together. You shouldn’t care.”
The words left his mouth like venom, but they felt like acid in his own throat. “And I told you to stay away from me,” Giyuu added, his eyes narrowing.
Sanemi’s nostrils flared as his hands clenched at his sides. “You stay away from me!” he screamed, his voice cracking with raw emotion.
The growl that tore from Giyuu’s chest surprised even him. His canines bared in a primal response as his pheromones—usually calm and sweet—spiked with rotten undertones. Sanemi’s answering snarl was even louder, his own dominance flaring as if to drown Giyuu out.
The two clashed—not physically yet, but with sheer presence alone. Their growls tangled and rose like a storm about to break. For two solid minutes, they stood toe to toe, growling and snarling like feral animals, their foreheads pressing harshly against each other’s as if one wrong breath would set them off.
An urge to make his omega submit overwhelmed Sanemi entirely, his inner alpha clawing at him. And he was thinking of actually entertaining that idea but—Sanemi’s eyes flicked down for just a second and was met by his pregnant mates’ belly.
The intimidating presence Sanemi had built up faltered for the briefest heartbeat. The sweet, endearing scent Giyuu used to wear—the one that always made Sanemi want to pull him close—was there beneath the sharp edges of tension.
But now Sanemi’s hands shook slightly at his sides.
The alpha’s gaze faltered—only for a split second—as he realized what he was doing. What he could do. The thought of forcing Giyuu, even unintentionally, to submit in front of the other Hashira while carrying… while carrying their pups… made bile rise in his throat.
Around them, there was an unmistakable crowd forming at a distance. The curious and stunned gazes of their peers pricked at his skin.
With a sharp inhale, Sanemi ripped himself away, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He turned on his heel, his shoulders stiff as if fighting the instinct to turn back and make the omega listen.
He and Giyuu, forehead to forehead, baring canines and growling like feral beasts, felt like the world was spinning out of control. The sound of Giyuu’s quiet but guttural snarl vibrated against his chest, and for a moment Sanemi could hear nothing but the thundering of his own heartbeat in his ears.
It should have felt natural, asserting himself like this as an alpha. But it didn’t.
Instead, a memory slammed into his mind with the force of a brutal blow.
His mother—her belly round and heavy as she argued and growled with his father in the dim light of their home. Her voice trembled, not because she wasn’t strong but because she knew how this would end. It always ended the same way: his father looming over her, his scent flooding the room until she dropped her gaze and folded into herself, submitting—not because she wanted to, but because she had to.
Sanemi had been small then, crouched behind a half-open door, watching helplessly as his mother’s soft whimpers cut through him like blades.
That memory. That sound.
It was a parallel he couldn’t bear.
This isn’t you. You’re not him.
Sanemi’s claws flexed unconsciously at his sides, the tension burning down his arms like wildfire. He had promised himself he would break that cycle. That his mate—his only omega—would ever feel the weight of forced submission under his hands.
And yet here he was, standing over Giyuu, the omega’s scent sharp with irritation and the undercurrent of his pregnancy obvious to Sanemi’s every instinct.
What the hell are you doing?
The swell of Giyuu’s belly caught his attention again, even though he tried not to look. It was impossible not to. That first time—weeks ago now—when Giyuu had slid open the shoji door and Sanemi caught sight of him swollen with pups… Sanemi swore something fundamental in his chest cracked open.
He hadn’t even met them yet, hadn’t felt their tiny kicks beneath his hand, hadn’t smelled the faint trace of their budding life.
And yet—
Fuck
—he felt so attached already. So ferociously protective of them in a way that felt instinctive, primal.
Sanemi sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. His fangs ached from clenching his jaw so tightly.
Then he made his choice.
He turned.
He forced himself to turn his back to Giyuu, even though every single nerve in his body screamed at him to stay, to fight harder, to take hold of this stubborn, maddening omega and make him listen.
But that wasn’t love. That wasn’t care. That was the beginning of a cycle he swore he would never continue.
As his steps thudded against the ground, he heard it—faint, but enough to make his heart seize. Giyuu was still snarling quietly, his pheromones sparking in defensive irritation, but Sanemi didn’t let himself stop. He couldn’t.
The crowd of onlookers murmured softly as he stalked away, his shoulders stiff and his hands clenched into fists. Some probably saw his retreat as weakness. A disgrace to his standing as an alpha.
But Sanemi felt no shame.
In traditional society, an alpha turning away like this would be considered immense weakness. Submission to an omega when they should be the one being bowed down to. But Sanemi didn’t give a damn about tradition—not when it came to Giyuu.
If this was weakness, then so be it.
As long as his mate and pups were safe from him.
The air was still thick with tension long after both Giyuu and Sanemi stomped off in opposite directions, the sharp smell of their clashing pheromones still lingering like smoke after a fire.
For once, the usually unshakable Hashira were stunned into silence.
Sinazugawa and Tomioka?
Mitsuri was the first to break the silence, her voice pitched in a squeal that carried all the way across the courtyard.
“Shinobu! I TOLD YOU SO!” she whispered loudly, bouncing on her heels as her hands gripped the Insect Hashira’s shoulders with surprising force.
Shinobu smiled faintly, adjusting her haori from Mitsuri’s tugging. “Ah, yes, Kanroji-san. I believe that means I owe you a sakura mochi.”
Mitsuri clutched her cheeks, trying not to scream. “Uzui-san is going to FLIP! When he hears about this!” she half-squealed, half-whispered.
Obanai’s voice cut through the rising buzz of excitement, his tone sharp with disbelief. “Holy fucking shit…” His mismatched eyes were narrowed, still fixed on the path Giyuu had stormed down as if trying to piece together the impossibility of what they had just seen. “That entire time… that entire time, they were mated?” He exhaled harshly. “I can’t believe none of us noticed. How did no one notice?”
“Well, they are Hashira’s, Iguro-san. It must’ve been easy for them.” Kocho punctuated her words, as if what she was stating wasn’t already obvious .
Gyomei, calm as ever, tilted his head thoughtfully as he murmured, “Hm. I wonder how they ended up together.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, though there was no judgment in his tone—only quiet curiosity.
Muichiro, blinking slowly, seemed more intrigued than anything else. “Woah…” he murmured. “How did Tomioka-san handle him?” His voice was absentminded, almost like he was talking to himself. “Shinazugawa’s scary even when he’s quiet.”
“I agree, Tokito-kun! I even had to cancel patrolling with him before—”
Kocho replied with surprise, “Really, Kanroji-san? He let you?”
Mitsuri only laughed nervously in reply.
Obanai folded his arms tightly across his chest, the serpent on his shoulders flicking its tongue nervously. “I honestly thought Shinazugawa would make Tomioka submit just now. He was close… You saw the way he stepped forward—it looked like it was about to happen.”
That caught Mitsuri and Kocho’s attention. That primal display of asserting dominance was beyond intense, they truly had no idea which direction it would go since they only heard about these occurrences in textbooks—never in real life.
Himejima shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable.
“I fear you are wrong, Iguro. Shinazugawa wouldn’t have forced submission.”
Kocho’s sharp gaze flicked toward Gyomei. “Himejima-san is right. If anything, it seemed like Tomioka was the one holding his ground. He didn’t lower his eyes, even once. That isn’t easy for an omega to do in the face of an alpha’s pressure—especially that alpha.”
Mitsuri pressed her hands over her mouth to hold in another squeal. “That’s because it’s Tomioka-san! He’s so mysterious, but so strong—oh my goodness, it all makes sense now!”
Shinobu allowed herself a small smirk. “It does make sense. Those two are both… difficult to deal with. Perhaps they understand each other in ways we don’t.”
Iguro muttered under his breath, “Or they drive each other insane. That looked like murder in their eyes—not affection.”
Himejima raised a large hand slightly, silencing the rising chatter. “Whatever the case,” he said gravely, “there is more between them than meets the eye. We should not meddle. What we witnessed was private, even if it was loud.”
But Mitsuri couldn’t help herself. She leaned in toward Kocho again, her green-pink curls brushing the smaller woman’s shoulder as she whispered urgently, “This means they’ve been together for a long time now. Probably even before the hydrangea incident.”
“I suppose there’s still a lot to unfold even after this news.”
As the Hashira began dispersing from the courtyard, they couldn’t stop glancing at the paths where Sanemi and Giyuu had vanished. The revelation weighed on all of them in different ways—some in surprise, others in quiet intrigue.
For a brief moment, the strongest demon slayers alive were united not by battle plans or strategy, but by the astonishing realization that the tempestuous Wind and the stoic Water were bound in ways none of them had imagined.
Mitsuri sighed dreamily. “Shinobu, do you think Tomioka-san will let us visit the babies when they’re born? I bet they’ll be so cute! What if they'll both have black and white hair!”
Shinobu raised a brow. “That’s assuming he survives long enough to raise them, Kanroji-san. You shouldn’t forget the situation we’re in.”
Mitsuri’s smile wavered, her bright eyes dimming for a moment. “I know,” she said softly. “But… I really hope he does. Both of them.”
Shinobu’s smile turned bittersweet. “As do I.”
Meanwhile Himejima shares Kocho and Mitsuri’s worries. The faint echo of their argument still lingered in his memory.
“…I will pray,” Gyomei murmured softly to himself, “that they will not let this war take them before they can mend what has broken.”
And with that, he began his slow, steady walk back to his estate.
They didn't know that the great evil would strike just a few days after.
Notes:
It’s twins!!! Yay!!! I’ve actually thought about this decision for months without end because apparently in the Taisho era, twins were a bad omen, but in the omegaverse, it is DEFINITELY a good omen sooo I was torn between those. I am so glad to reveal this ever since I made that decision! Because let’s be real, both of them are overachievers, OFCOURSE they’d have twins on the first (pregnancy?) try(without even trying?). Also mui and yuichiro angst :(
The cat is finally out of the bag!!! What will happen to our miscommunicating idiots?!?! Gosh just talk it out properly, seriously.
Generally, I don't think the hashiras are able to defeat each other because realistically they are probably all somewhat on the same level. I believe that in this case, Giyuu and Obanai's abilities are just a bad match, they can work together but working against each other would prove to be Giyuu being victorious. In terms of strength and stamina, Mitsuri definitely “wins” this one.
Also, Giyuu sparring w Sanemi while pregnant is sooo funny to me.
As always, I am immensely grateful for everyones love and support and patience! I hope this chapter was worth the wait!
Chapter 8: for eternity
Summary:
Sanemi took a breath, shamelessly and courageously he blurts out—
“Giyuu, wait.”
Notes:
Guys, I know that pregnant people are definitely not supposed to go to battle because of high risks for them and their baby BUT this is fanfiction…so anything is possible…Giyuu will STILL be there. I won’t completely erase him because Giyuu’s sense of justice is stronger than every dimension of societal expectations, as we all know, and my resolve sooo. I won’t change a whole lot and you don’t really have to worry about it because I won’t expand on those panels quite a lot anyway since it’s not the main plot of the fic. For the sake of the canon compliant tag, Giyuu will fight pregnant! If six months pregnant samba dancers can dance in Carnaval Rio, Giyuu can definitely slay demons at six months pregnant too.
Also, action scenes are not my forte at ALL but I did try my best to describe the events and mention all the needed detail to showcase an understandable visual of the manga panels. I added panels that I think are impactful or something like that. But again, not that important to the actual plot of the fic, just building blocks if you will.
TW: implied verbal and physical abuse, contains spoilers!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The night air was thick with ash and smoke as the Hashira sprinted across the field toward the smoldering remains of the Ubuyashiki mansion. The flames crackled loudly in the silence, a horrifying soundtrack to the devastation. Giyuu’s chest tightened as his sharp eyes scanned the wreckage, his nostrils filling with the acrid scent of burning wood and earth.
Behind him, Mitsuri’s voice shook with barely restrained panic. “Oyakata-sama…!”
The faintest chill passed through Giyuu’s veins when he spotted a figure standing motionless in the center of the debris. A tall, pale man in what looked like western clothing, his sharp eyes glowing red like coals against his porcelain skin. The stillness of his presence seemed to devour all sound around them.
It was Gyomei’s deep, grounded voice that confirmed what every single one of them already suspected. “It’s Muzan! Kibutsuji Muzan!”
A deep, searing anger rippled through Giyuu’s chest. His fingers clenched tight around the hilt of his Nichirin blade. This is it. The monster that’s destroyed everything… that’s taken so much from all of them.
He took a measured breath, trying to steady the sudden pounding in his chest. But no—this wasn’t fear. This was determination, burning hotter than anything else. I’ll finish him. I’ll finish him for everyone who can’t fight anymore. For the master. For the deaths of Tsutako and Sabito.
And…his hand unconsciously brushed over his lower stomach…for the pups he swore he’ll protect until his last breath.
The Hashira moved in unison, bodies poised and blades flashing as they prepared to launch their strike. Mitsuri’s Love Breathing, Obanai’s serpentine movements, Gyomei’s beads rattling with purpose—they were all ready to leap into the fray.
But then—
A sharp pang like the sound of a taut string snapping vibrated through the air.
The world shifted.
The ground beneath Giyuu’s feet dissolved, gravity tearing at him violently as his body was wrenched into an unfamiliar space. A lantern-lit hall unfolded endlessly in every direction, wooden panels creaking under an unseen force. Rooms rotated in impossible ways, floors becoming walls, and corridors twisting like a serpent.
Muzan’s arrogant grating voice rippled through the air, it ensured that everyone of them would hear exactly what the end sounded like for them, “You seriously thought you could corner me?! You’re all going to hell now!”
“You pathetic demon hunter pests. I’m slaughtering you all tonight!” As Muzan’s final daunts came falling along with them, Tanjiro’s promises of defiance did not waver. “You’re the one going to hell, Muzan! You’re not getting away! I will defeat you for sure!”
“Come and get me if you can, Tanjiro!”
Giyuu hit the uneven ground with practiced grace despite the sudden pull on his body. His balance wavered for only a heartbeat before he pressed his palm against his belly protectively. The twins fluttered slightly—he didn’t know if it was his imagination or instinct—but there was no time to linger on the sensation.
“Tanjiro,” Giyuu barked, his voice calm but firm.
He looked up and saw that the younger alpha was losing his posture for a good landing. Giyuu immediately shot out a hand to grab his haori and swung him to the room below him.
“You okay?”
“Thank you very much!” Tanjiro called back, landing just behind him. His eyes darted wildly across the hallways, jaw tight.
The flicker of movement ahead caught Giyuu’s attention, and before he could react, demons lunged at them from the sliding doors. Long claws scraped the wooden floors as they emerged, snarling and frothing with bloodlust.
“Tanjiro!” Both of them immediately leaped straight into action and released an attack to decapitate the herd of demons.
They moved in tandem, Water and Sun Breathing slicing through the first wave of demons as they darted down the twisting halls. Giyuu’s mind raced. We need to find Muzan quickly. If we let him drag this out, more lives will be lost.
But beneath his calm exterior, there was an undertow of worry he could not shake.
For a brief moment, as Giyuu deflected a demon’s claw and countered with a downward strike, his thoughts betrayed him.
Sanemi.
Was he safe? Or was he being overwhelmed by this endless maze? He could still feel the echo of Sanemi’s growl in his ears from their last fight—the anger, the heartbreak—no matter how hard Giyuu shoved the memory down or remained indifferent to the effects their arguments had on him before it could slow him down in battle—it was no use.
The fight they had a few days before kept replaying on his mind ever since, much like how the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, an endlessly repeating thing daily. Unmoving and unchanging.
Giyuu knew that it was wrong to approach their quarrel like that but—it was hard when tension kept piling up between them unintentionally because they both exploded every time they had a chance to talk.
Giyuu was angry at Sanemi, no doubt.
But at the same time he was fucking sad because he missed him, he terribly and all consumingly misses him and he couldn’t even allow himself to feel that way because clearly Sanemi isn’t being clear with what he’s trying to communicate either!
Giyuu was frustrated rather than angry really—he was frustrated that he ended up with more questions than he started with after arguing with the alpha. He was frustrated that Sanemi was completely oblivious to what Giyuu was implying, like they both didn’t understand what the other was saying at all.
Which was bullshit because Sanemi knew what he did, so why did he act like he didn’t know?
Why was Sanemi mad that Giyuu hid his pregnancy? Why would he react that way when Giyuu knows that Sanemi had no desire to start a family?
An even worse memory happened after Kocho—and the others—found out about his mating bond with Sanemi.
She heavily encouraged that they should reconcile because it wasn’t good for Giyuu or the pups to continue with the pregnancy without an alpha. She said that it was dangerous and irresponsible—just like what the midwife had told him.
“This isn’t just about you now, Tomioka-san. This is about the three of you.”
Kocho sighed exasperatedly when Giyuu turned away from her gaze once again and yet she continued to say, “I know that I am in no place at all to assume whatever that might have happened between the both of you—but please—you must reconcile.”
The midwife held both of his shaking hands, hands that shook from a dilemma of fear and delight with her own gentle and steady ones. She looked Giyuu right in the eyes and said, “A mating bond starts with two people, Giyuu. It must continue that way until eternity, just as you both promised to each other.”
Giyuu couldn’t hold back the tears then.
Of course he knew that! He was already knowledgeable with the risks and the possible complications of everything, not to mention the oaths he gave and the limits he pushed—
He just didn’t know how to approach this particular conflict because he and Sanemi never had conflict like this before! Sure, they had that fight a few years back but it was far from the nature of their relationship, it wasn’t about them, it didn’t acknowledge their arranged union.
Giyuu was confused, ultimately. He didn’t know how to feel about this entire—
He shook his head. Now isn’t the time. Focus.
As much as he knows of the importance of dissecting their failing relationship, he needs to take care of the damage in front of him first.
“Giyuu-san!” Tanjiro’s voice snapped him back as more demons poured in from above. Giyuu gritted his teeth. “Let’s move. Muzan’s presence is faint but I can feel it pulling us forward.”
“Right!”
The two of them dashed onward through the warped halls of the dimension, the lantern light blurring into streaks as they cut their way forward, searching desperately for the heart of the labyrinth—and the monster waiting for them there.
“Let’s go. Stay close,” Giyuu instructed, sheathing his blade in a smooth motion.
Tanjiro nodded, the red mark on his forehead glowing faintly.
The air in the other dimension was heavy, thick with the scent of demons and the suffocating presence of Muzan’s cursed energy. Lanterns swung wildly in the warped halls, casting their glow in fractured, eerie patterns as Giyuu and Tanjiro sprinted side by side.
Their blades instantly dripped with demon blood, but neither dared pause.
“Shinobu-san…” Tanjiro whispered between sharp breaths. The crow’s words still echoed in their minds like a cruel bell. Kocho Shinobu, unconscious.
Giyuu’s jaw tightened, his fingers clenching around his Nichirin blade. He wasn't sure if it implied that she was passed out or if she was deceased. He offered a silent remark of condolences and gratitude, he couldn’t believe that she would be taken out so early.
They rounded a corner, and for a moment it seemed they might reach the others—until a deafening crash exploded behind them. Splinters of wood and debris rained across the hall, forcing Tanjiro to skid to a stop. Giyuu’s stomach turned cold as a figure emerged from the wreckage.
A tall demon with pale skin and piercing golden eyes stood there, cracking his neck and flexing his fists like a predator ready to pounce. His clothing revealed tattoos all over his body and his doubtless bodily strength.
Upper Rank Three.
“Tanjiro, keep moving—” Giyuu started, but Akaza’s presence pressed down on them like a vice.
“Running already?” the demon sneered, his voice sharp and vicious. His eyes flicked between them, positioning himself like he was releasing an attack, until they landed squarely on Giyuu. Something in his expression shifted.
“…Oh?” Akaza’s tone dipped lower, almost amused. “Hey, babydoll.”
The words made Giyuu’s skin crawl. Why the fuck was he calling him babydoll? Giyuu was sure he threw up a little in his mouth from Upper Three’s greeting. Gosh , alphas and their obsession with weird ass name calling to those that society deemed lower than them.
He visibly shivered from disgust, sure, he’s been catcalled plenty of times over the years—it was inevitable—but he was pregnant for goodness sake, can’t the guy take a hint?
Without hesitation, he surged forward with a powerful Water Breathing technique, his blade cutting cleanly through Akaza’s chest.
The demon didn’t even flinch. Chunks of his flesh regenerated instantly as he laughed. “Ah, so feisty. I like that.”
Tanjiro, seizing the opening, swung his blade down in a ferocious arc. “Don’t speak to him like that!”
But Akaza caught Tanjiro’s blade with his bare hand, cracking it slightly before shoving the boy backward. “Ah, so you’ve got a little guard dog, huh?”
Giyuu’s eyes darkened as he released another slash, forcing Akaza to release Tanjiro and leap back.
“The Water Pillar…and pregnant, no less!” Akaza’s grin widened cruelly. “What insanity is this? A delicate little omega in your condition doesn’t belong here. You should be coddled in a nest, not bleeding out in a fight like this.”
Obviously he should be in his perfectly comfortable nest instead of this mind churning another dimension full of the smell of demon and evil, maybe even warmly tucked in with his alpha, away from the dangers of war and in a world where makeshift peace reigns over humanity only.
But because of the injustices demons have brought to pass upon generations of innocent victims—Giyuu is here to avenge them.
Giyuu said nothing, his silence sharper than any blade. He struck again with a clean horizontal slash. He always hated chatty demons, they always chatter Giyuu’s ears away as if it could deter him but they always end up being easy to kill anyway. Upper Three was an exception of course, his presence alone was enough to shake him, Giyuu knew that he wasn’t going to be an easy kill.
But that didn't mean it would be impossible.
Akaza staggered back slightly, the cut deep enough to slice across his chest. He regenerated instantly, but his golden eyes glimmered with genuine excitement.
“It’s been…what, fifty years since I last ran into someone good?” Akaza’s voice vibrated with manic energy but Giyuu didn’t hesitate to unleash a destructive breathing form upon him. It affected the demon but it didn’t kill it. Upper Three’s voice was as solid as his stance, “I’ve never seen that move before! The last Water Pillar I killed never used that!”
Tanjiro lunged again, but Akaza caught him mid-swing and prepared to drive his fist into Tanjiro’s ribs. Before the blow could land, Giyuu was already there—his blade a blur of steel as it intercepted Akaza’s strike.
“Elegant! Splendid! This is finely crafted swordsmanship!” Akaza barked out a laugh, exhilarated. “Give me your name!” the demon demanded suddenly, his voice rising with glee. “What is it!?”
Giyuu’s blade sang through the air again in a seamless flow of water. His eyes were calm, his breathing steady despite the chaos. “I hate speaking,” Giyuu said coldly. “Don’t talk to me.”
Seriously.
What was up with these higher ranked demons that can never seem to stop fucking talking? Is it so hard for them not to taunt their enemies? Giyuu never really understood why most of them bothered when they only waste their breath on spouting ideals that are inhumane.
Another strike forced Akaza to retreat a step.
“I will not give my name to a demon. Names are not to be shared.”
Akaza grinned wider, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Ah… so you hate talking. But I love talking!” Giyuu internally rolled his eyes, of course you do. With a sudden burst of speed, Akaza delivered a sweeping kick, forcing Giyuu to parry and spin back. The wood beneath them cracked violently.
“I’ll ask you again and again for your name!” Akaza roared.
Giyuu’s body barely had time to react before Akaza’s foot collided with his chest. The impact sent him flying backward, slamming hard into the opposite wall. A sharp pain shot through Giyuu’s side as his back hit the ground with a sickening thud.
He felt his pups stir faintly inside him—an instinctual response that made his protective rage burn hotter than ever.
Giyuu’s breath came heavy and ragged as he pushed himself back onto his feet, blood trickling down his lip. His body ached all over, his shoulder throbbing from the force of Akaza’s last kick, but his hands gripped his blade tightly.
A faint warmth coursed across his body, unfamiliar yet potent.
This is it, Giyuu thought as a surge of power flared in his chest, burning hot against his skin. His Hashira Mark bloomed across the side of his face, jagged and flowing like water itself. His vision sharpened, and his heartbeat steadied, syncing with his breath in a way that felt almost inhuman.
Akaza’s golden eyes widened slightly at the sight of the mark. “Oh? Now we’re talking.”
With a roar, Akaza charged forward, fist cocked back for a devastating blow.
Giyuu ducked low and countered, his blade slicing through Akaza’s arm at the elbow. Blood sprayed, but the demon didn’t stop, using his other fist to drive toward Giyuu’s chest. The Water Pillar twisted, his movements fluid like a current as he avoided a fatal hit—yet the sheer force of Akaza’s swing clipped the edge of his sword.
CRACK!
The Nichirin blade snapped in half, sending the broken tip clattering to the ground. Before Giyuu could adjust, Akaza’s knuckles slammed into his shoulder. Pain shot through his body, and he staggered, the taste of copper blooming in his mouth.
“Giyuu-san!”
Tanjiro’s voice rang out. The boy’s eyes were wild with determination as he leapt forward, his blade arcing like a falling star.
Akaza’s fist—still embedded in Giyuu’s shoulder—was severed clean off.
The demon didn’t flinch. Instead, he laughed, his regeneration already working as he pivoted and swung at Tanjiro. But Tanjiro was faster. In a swift, desperate strike, he brought his sword down on Akaza’s neck, slicing it clean through.
The headless body didn’t falter.
“Persistent bastards,” Akaza hissed, his voice emerging from his severed head as his body launched another attack.
The wooden floor beneath Tanjiro splintered as rubble collapsed around him, pinning him under the weight. He gritted his teeth, unable to move. Giyuu’s chest heaved, but his grip on the broken blade never wavered. He stood firm between Akaza and Tanjiro, his legs trembling yet unyielding.
“If you want to kill Tanjiro,” Giyuu growled, his voice low but steady, “you’ll have to get through me first.”
Memories flashed behind his eyes—Sabito’s determined grin, Tsutako’s warm smile, the countless faces of comrades and loved ones he’d lost. And despite their haunting conflict—Sanemi was at the center of it all.
Not yet. Not now. I won’t let my promises die in vain.
His pups shifted faintly in his belly, a reminder of what else he had to protect. Giyuu shifted his stance, lowering himself in preparation. Akaza paused, staring at the Water Hashira’s battered form.
Good job …the demon thought, a faint flicker of something almost human flashing in his gaze. Making me remember that past of mine. Humans. Soft. Brittle. Weak. And yet…he persists. Akaza roared, preparing for one final strike.
“Giyuu-san, move!” Tanjiro yelled from beneath the rubble. The boy reached out desperately, blood streaking his hand.
But before Akaza’s fist could make contact, it froze in midair and retreated back to his side. Giyuu noticed that Upper Three seemed to be in a constant state of push and pull between his humanity throughout the fight. That final moment testified that he did give into his human past after all.
The demon’s body convulsed violently.
To their shock, Akaza’s attack never landed—because the demon had turned his own blood demon art upon himself, severing his body.
“W-what is happening!?” Tanjiro gasped, his voice cracking.
And then, Akaza’s form began to break apart like ash in the wind. The other worldly dimension fell silent except for their ragged breaths.
“He… disappeared…” Tanjiro said, his voice faint and trembling. “It’s… over…” The boy pushed himself weakly out from the rubble, his legs barely holding him upright. “Next… I… have to hurry… to Tamayo-san,” he murmured.
But before he could take a step, his body gave out. His forehead hit the wooden floor with a dull crash.
“Tanjiro…” Giyuu whispered, staggering to his knees beside the boy. His own body felt heavy, the adrenaline fading fast as exhaustion swallowed him whole.
Leaning his forehead against the hilt of his broken blade, Giyuu exhaled shakily and brushed a hand over his stomach.
At least… I kept my promise…
His eyes fluttered shut.
And the world went black.
Sanemi hissed through gritted teeth as he pulled the needle through his skin, tying off the final stitch on the deep gash running along his ribcage. His uniform was already soaked in blood, sticky against his torso, and the sharp stench of iron clung to him like a second skin.
“That bastard Upper One…” he growled low under his breath. He’d underestimated the precision and ferocity of Upper Moon One’s Blood Demon Art for a moment—just a moment—but it was enough to leave him torn open like paper.
Himejima’s booming voice echoed faintly in his head. “Fix yourself up. You’ll be no help to anyone half-alive.”
Sanemi knew that he had to go through with Himejima’s advice, so he decided to place some distance between himself and the battle grounds. He was leaning against a fractured beam of wood in the wreckage and he sifted through ideas on how to effectively make lasting attacks on the demon while stitching himself up.
He was wiping excess blood off his hands when a voice called out from the distance. “Shinazugawa-san! Are you okay!? Do you need help!?”
Sanemi’s head snapped up.
Of course it’s that damned brat.
Tanjiro Kamado’s too-bright voice cut through the air like a bell in a funeral hall, even worse, it was echoing closer too. Sanemi rolled his eyes and let out a sharp, rasping sigh. “I’m fucking fine,” he barked, his voice hoarse but firm enough to carry. He didn’t miss the way his tone echoed off the walls, ricocheting in the strange, endless labyrinth of the dimension.
As Tanjiro’s hurried footsteps grew louder, another presence followed behind him—one that immediately made Sanemi’s muscles coil tight. A presence he would recognize even if all of his senses were to be numbed beyond usage, a presence he was so familiar with, Sanemi wouldn’t need anything else to know who it was because it was reflex to reach for him.
Giyuu.
The moment the Water Hashira entered his senses, Sanemi felt his inner alpha flare to life like a torch, searing his chest and making his pulse thunder in his ears. A feeling he hadn’t felt since that night, that lively fire was dampened the very next day when Giyuu left him all alone for the first time in the years they were together. The omega’s scent reached him even from this distance—sweetness and fresh rain, undercut now with something deeper, richer.
The scent of his mate.
The scent of his unborn pups.
A scent he mindlessly craved.
His mating bond pulsed lively at his neck, urging him to protect his mate and be with him. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time and he didn’t expect it to hurt. Sanemi admits that it fucking hurt to be near his mate and their unborn children these past weeks and he couldn’t even touch him. It was so much harder to control his inner alpha from taking over because of their lack of physical interaction which was probably why he was more worked up than usual during those training weeks too.
Sanemi’s jaw tightened. His nails dug into his palms as he forced down the primal urge to get closer, to check that the omega was unharmed.
Not now. Not here.
The sounds of clashing blades and demonic roars still echoed from all directions. The air was thick with malice and bloodlust. It wasn’t safe—not for Giyuu, not for the pups. But Sanemi knows that Giyuu is nothing but stubborn and his desire to end Muzan was just as strong as the other Pillars.
Sanemi shifted slightly against the beam, trying to appear nonchalant even though his inner instincts were screaming to get between his mate and every single danger in this cursed fucking dimension.
“Why are you here?” Sanemi rasped, his voice sharp but laced with something he couldn’t quite suppress. He was trying to sound annoyed. Detached. Like Giyuu’s presence wasn’t rattling him to his very core. Like he wasn’t more than ready to kneel at his omegas’ feet and beg him to find safety instead of taking on countless demons, and shield him away from every harm that might put him into more danger.
But Sanemi knew he couldn't do that, not anymore, not for a long time.
Tanjiro slowed, concern flashing across his face as he glanced between the two of them. “We’re still waiting for orders, but we’re on our way to Muzan as assumed—”
“Tanjiro, let’s go.” The words were spoken softly but with a steel edge that cut through the tension like a blade. Giyuu’s voice. Stoic. Impassive. So perfectly cold that it made Sanemi’s gut twist.
It felt weird to hear him have that tone when Sanemi hasn't been the subject of that tone ever since they crossed boundaries they set for themselves. .
Gone were the delicate notes of his mates’ voice lighting up the parts of his mind that were engulfed in darkness, the tune of his favorite music box.
That tone wasn’t meant for Tanjiro. It was meant for him and every unspoken hurtful thing between them right now.
The younger alpha froze for a moment, surprised by the suddenness of Giyuu’s interruption, but then he nodded obediently. Sanemi watched as the two turned their backs to him and discussed how to navigate the shifting halls again, Giyuu’s hand lingering for the briefest moment over his slightly rounded belly as he adjusted his breathing.
Something in Sanemi’s chest ached like a wound that wouldn’t close. The faint traces of Giyuu’s scent lingered in the air as they continued to walk to a corner, making Sanemi’s claws dig deeper into his palms until the skin broke.
He fuckin’ hates me , Sanemi thought bitterly. And he has every right to. Sanemi didn’t regret expressing his side back then but he wished he’d done it more gently, he wished it happened more intimately. Even worse, he let himself get carried away by his anger again despite promising to himself that he would never—
He took a deep breath, redirecting his focus, he can’t afford letting his emotions flood his senses again.
A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he smothered it quickly. He had to focus. Muzan was somewhere in this cursed maze and he still had to assist in killing Upper One, and as much as he wanted to charge after his omega and drag him to safety, he knew Giyuu would never forgive him for undermining his strength.
Sanemi wasn’t shocked when Giyuu turned away either.
It was probably for the best that they go to Muzan immediately anyway. He told himself that. Forced himself to believe it as Giyuu’s retreating back gradually grew smaller with every step. It’s better this way. Better to focus on the mission. Better not to drag more chaos into the middle of hell.
And yet…
Sanemi’s fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his bloodied haori, his heart thudding so violently he swore it would crack his ribs. It was almost like the bond was physically hauling him to reach for Giyuu, to do something other than just standing there.
That argument they’d had just days before—right in front of the other Pillars, no less—still burned like acid in his veins. He wasn’t embarrassed. No, Shinazugawa Sanemi didn’t get embarrassed. But he hadn’t wanted it to happen like that. Not with Giyuu. Not with the omega carrying their pups.
He’d been angry for so long—furious, even—up until earlier when he saw Genya lying there, covered in his own blood, teetering on the edge of life and death after Upper One’s onslaught.
That’s when it hit him. How real all of this was. How fragile the threads of their futures were. He still had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to make up for. There might not be a second chance—not with Genya, not with his soon-to-be children, and most importantly… not with Giyuu.
So before he could think, before his pride could chain his tongue like it always did, before he could stop himself from suppressing the voices that whispered in his head and heart to reach out, before he could let his anger wash over his consciousness like a puppet controlled by strings, Sanemi took a breath, shamelessly and courageously he blurts out—
“Giyuu, wait.”
His voice was raw. Bare. Stripped of all its usual venom. Because there might not be a next time and he doesn't want to die regretting not telling Giyuu what he felt about him even if they are in the middle of crossfire.
Because it’s worse dealing with what could be and what would’ve been rather than the everlasting sting of Giyuu’s rejection.
Giyuu froze for the briefest moment, but didn’t turn around. His voice, when it came, was firm and steady.
“Shinazugawa—”
Sanemi’s legs moved before his brain could stop them. He reached out and caught Giyuu’s arm, his rough hand trembling despite his iron grip.
“Baby, please.” It wasn’t the gruff, grating voice he always used. It was low and pleading. A voice so tender Sanemi can’t believe he’s still able to verbalize this tone. “Please… just listen.”
Giyuu flinched. For a moment, Sanemi thought he might relent. His body language suggested that he was determined to push the alpha away, like he was eager to get away from him. But then the omega only pulled his arm back, slow but deliberate. Sanemi didn’t miss the slight hesitation, the way Giyuu’s fingers tightened before slipping away.
“Sanemi, stop.” The sound of his name on Giyuu’s lips made his stomach twist painfully. He wasn’t used to hearing Giyuu say it that way, it sounded so…strange. It sounded strained but annoyed at the same time, like Giyuu was currently in a dilemma of whether he should let Sanemi in or exile him again. “We can’t do this right now—”
But Sanemi didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t. So he reaches for his arm again, he doesn't care if they're in the middle of a war. This one in a million chance created by fate was more important to him than his life—his future.
“Giyuu,” he said again, his voice cracking as he tightened his grip. “Baby, I know we haven’t fixed things yet, but I’m not going through this without saying this to you.”
Giyuu turned then, just slightly, enough for Sanemi to catch the exhaustion in his eyes. Eyes that are clearly tired of the words that came out of Sanemi’s mouth. “Sanemi…”
His name again, so quiet. So heavy. But Sanemi couldn’t stop.
The words came pouring out, desperate and unfiltered. “I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand being away from you when all I want is to be with you—even if you want me to stay away. I don’t care if you don’t want me. I want to be there for our children. I want to be there for you.”
Giyuu’s breath hitched. His eyes flickered with something vague that Sanemi can’t quite point his finger to but it was familiar all the same. Giyuu looked away, the candlelight of the shifting corridors casting sharp shadows across his face. “But you said—”
Sanemi cut in, his voice strained and wide eyed because Giyuu actually responded to him, cracking at the edges. “What did I say?”
There was no anger in his tone now. It had mellowed out, preserving itself to be unleashed onto demons. Just a raw, aching vulnerability that Giyuu had only heard from him once before, all those years ago, when they were still dealing with the aftermath of a forced bonding.
The silence that followed felt like it stretched on for centuries.
Giyuu pulled his arm away from Sanemi’s grip, wrapping his arms tightly over his chest like he was shielding himself from whatever response the alpha was going to give.
His voice wavered as he spoke, soft but sharp enough to cut through the tense air. “You s-said that I was just—that arranged unions were nothing more than an obligation…”
The words hit Sanemi square in the chest like a blade.
What…?
This was new information to Sanemi however because he has never recalled saying that to Giyuu. A furrow creased his brow. His mouth opened, then closed again as his mind scrambled for meaning. “When…?” he asked finally, his tone uncharacteristically soft, almost disbelieving, quietly contemplating.
Giyuu’s lips trembled. His arms clutched tighter around himself, it squeezed Sanemi's heart to see his omega like a fragile porcelain doll afraid of getting dropped, his voice breaking as he replied. “Back at the mountains… after your mission? You said—”
And then it hit Sanemi like a bolt of lightning.
Oh, no.
The memory slammed into him without warning—his words that night after the mission on the mountain, his exhaustion, the fire raging in his chest from what he’d witnessed…
He didn’t even know that Giyuu was there because he wasn’t supposed to be there!
“I know , I wasn’t supposed to be there anyway but I-I wanted to tell you how I really felt—but I heard that—” Giyuu’s voice was shaky and sincere. Sanemi could see how much of a struggle it is for his omega to even say it, that was how much it broke his heart.
And suddenly, Sanemi realized.
He misunderstood me . They misunderstood each other. All this time…Sanemi internally slapped himself, he felt fu cking stupid. Fuck, he better make this right.
“...that I would dissolve my bond mark.” Sanemi breathed, cutting in before Giyuu could finish. Giyuu nodded, confirming that Sanemi’s statement was exactly what he was referring to. He exhaled shakily, his chest tight with panic and regret. “No. Baby.”
He stepped closer, reaching out as if touching would tether Giyuu to him again. Gently, he cupped his omega’s face, forcing Giyuu to tilt his head up and meet his gaze. And holy fuck it felt good to feel that electric connection between them again.
“Baby. Look at me.” For a moment, Giyuu resisted, his glassy eyes darting away like he was trying to hold on to his pain, trying not to hope. But Sanemi had faith that Giyuu would look.
Those stormy blue eyes met Sanemi’s, shimmering with unshed tears.
Sanemi’s heart broke even more at the sight.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” Sanemi said, his voice raw, stripped bare of all defenses. “That wasn’t about us.” He brushed his thumb across Giyuu’s cheek, marveling at how soft his omega felt under his calloused fingers.
Giyuu’s voice cracked, almost breaking into a sob as he demanded, “Then what the fuck did you mean—”
But before Sanemi could answer, the sharp caw of the crow cut through the tension like a blade. “Giyuu! Tanjiro! Converge on Muzan Kibutsuji’s location immediately!” it screeched repeatedly.
Sanemi clenched his jaw, the words lodging in his throat. He hated this timing—hated that this conversation, the one they both needed more than anything, was being torn away from them.
“Giyuu-san…” The quiet, careful voice of Tanjiro reached them. Sanemi turned his head just enough to see the boy standing nearby, eyes wide and heavy with concern. “I’m afraid we have to go…”
Sanemi exhaled through his nose, sharp but resigned. Damn it. He knew Tanjiro was right—this wasn’t the time for reconciliation, no matter how much it burned.
He turned his gaze back to Giyuu, who looked like he was struggling to hold himself together, his lips pressed thin and trembling. Sanemi’s voice softened in a way it rarely did. “I’ll explain everything later. I promise, baby.”
Giyuu’s lips wobbled into a pout, his brows furrowing, and for a fleeting second Sanemi almost laughed—not because it was funny, but because it was so Giyuu.
Instead, Sanemi’s large hands came to rest gently over Giyuu’s swollen belly, feeling the faint shift of movement beneath his palms. He caressed it tenderly, his thumbs brushing over the curve like a silent vow.
Giyuu’s hands lifted to cover his, fingers sliding between Sanemi’s as though he couldn’t bear to let go either. Then, with a subtle lean forward, Giyuu pressed his forehead against Sanemi’s own .
The crow cawed again, louder this time, urgent.
Sanemi whispered, his voice tight with everything he wanted to say but didn’t have time for, “Stay safe, yeah?”
He didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to leave his omega and their pups—not when everything in him screamed to protect them. But Giyuu’s fingers curled around the back of Sanemi’s neck, tugging him forward slightly and bumping their foreheads together. His voice, soft and raw, barely carried over the din of the battlefield around them.
“Come back to me. Come back to us .”
Sanemi’s heart clenched so hard it felt like it might shatter. He bent his head and kissed Giyuu’s forehead, lingering there for a moment as if trying to imprint the feel of him into his memory.
“Always,” he murmured.
But before he could pull away fully, Sanemi gave in to a desperate impulse. He pressed his lips to Giyuu’s in what was meant to be a fleeting kiss.
But Giyuu kissed back.
And suddenly, it wasn’t fleeting.
Their lips moved against each other with urgency, with longing, with everything they couldn’t say in words. The kiss deepened, neither of them able to pull away even as the crow shrieked again—
“Giyuu, Tanjiro, move! Now!”
At last, they parted, breathing hard. Their foreheads touched again for one final moment, silent promises passing between them.
Then, without another word, they turned in opposite directions—Sanemi toward Upper One, and Giyuu toward Muzan—each carrying the weight of the other in their hearts.
As Tanjiro and Giyuu ran towards where Muzan was, all that was running through Tanjiro’s mind was did Shinazugawa-san call Giyuu-san baby?! And did Giyuu-san pout?!
He literally just witnessed them kissing too. Not even kissing, it was more like making out! But Tanjiro guessed that it made sense since they didn’t exactly know if they were coming out of this war alive. Tanjro was also glad that they somewhat started to fix the bridge that was keeping them apart for so long.
He was also beyond flabbergasted by the way Shinazugawa acted with Giyuu, it was so unlike the man he trained with! Like immensely different personalities, who knew that he would be the type to use baby as an endearment!?
Not to mention Giyuu’s pout! The only facial expressions that Tanjiro saw Giyuu would show are stillness, his face when fighting demons, and his purposeful rare smiles! Seeing Giyuu pout was one of those things that if he were able to say he saw him do that to his comrades he wouldn’t believe them, even if he swears to the heavens.
Despite Tanjiro’s initial shock from the sweet and tender moments exchanged between them, what truly blew him away was the unmistakable scent of sincerity that he could smell laced in Shinazugawa’s words.
There was no hint of anger or regret between either of their voices, emotions that are naturally present between people who are trying to forgive each other and fix a hole in their relationship. Instead, the both of them stunk with longing and love that Tanjiro was momentarily overwhelmed by its potency.
Tanjiro smiled to himself, he hopes he’ll get to see them spend their life together.
At a distance, Genya was focused on tightening the bandages around his arms, his chest still heaving from the brutal clash earlier. Muichiro, crouching beside him and surveying the wreckage with his usual calm, suddenly tilted his head.
“Is that…?” Muichiro murmured, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the shifting debris and shadows.
Genya looked up, following his gaze, wondering what he might be referring to. Sure enough, through the haze, the faint outlines of his brother Sanemi and the Water Pillar were visible. The two stood unnervingly close to one another—too close, Genya thought.
Muichiro spoke again, his voice light but curious. “Are they finally making up?”
Genya blinked. “Making up?” he echoed, confusion pulling at his features.
His conversation with the Water Pillar flashed through his mind. Genya’s eyes widened, it suddenly clicked to Genya why Tomioka was so knowledgeable about his brother and that it was probably not just a coincidence despite convincing himself that it was.
“Yeah,” Muichiro said simply. “They had this really intense display of dominance a few days ago. It was scary… they were both growling crazily and stuff.”
“Wait. Why were they doing that?”
“Oh, apparently Shinazugawa-san didn't know that Tomioka-san was having twins. It seemed like they hadn't been talking for a while because they were fighting about something that we didn't quite understand. Anyway, they were both growling and snarling at each other, drool was even dripping from their canines.”
Genya stared at Muichiro in disbelief. The image of his explosive, temperamental older brother growling at the calm, quiet Water Pillar was almost too much to process, especially with the added implication that their relationship was far more complex than he initially thought. “No fuckin’ way,” he muttered under his breath.
His brother and the Water Pillar!?
“They’re mated!?”
Muichiro absentmindedly replied, “Yeah.”
“For how long?”
He looked deep in thought before he explained, “I don't exactly know but…It sounded like they've been together for a long time. But it also sounded like they've been apart for a long time too.”
Genya was saddened to hear that. It seemed that Muichiro was too because his eyes looked a little somber while he stared at the two Pillars in the distance.
But curiosity got the better of him. “Wait—did aniki make Tomioka-san submit then?”
For a moment, Genya could almost imagine it: Sanemi’s harsh voice, his intense aura forcing Tomioka to back down, the Water Pillar equally matching his dominance.
But the thought barely settled before another memory from his childhood clawed its way to the surface because of how that visualization looked and felt so familiar—his bastard father looming over their heavily pregnant mother, words shot out of his mouth like sharp arrows that visibly pierced their mother, his snarling voice echoing in the small house as she tried to resist to his commands. That was until he would grab her neck, Genya didn’t know what it was called back then, only now did he realize that their father would scruff their mother so she submitted out of fear, out of survival.
No.
Sanemi wouldn’t have done that.
Genya’s eyes softened slightly, and he quickly shook his head, retracting his earlier question. “Wait. He wouldn’t have.”
Muichiro’s pale eyes flicked toward him, curiosity flooded them. “Hm? How did you know he didn’t do it?”
Genya’s mouth opened for a second, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t want to explain how their father had been a monster, how he'd snap his teeth at their mother over simple things that didn't need nitpicking. How Sanemi had once sworn—when they were huddled together under their blankets on a cold night—that he would never, ever be like him.
So instead, Genya forced a smirk and said lightly, “Brotherly instinct, I guess.”
Muichiro nodded once, as if that explanation made perfect sense. He didn’t press further—like he understood sibling telepathy well enough.
When Genya glanced back, his eyes widened slightly.
Sanemi’s hand was pressed tenderly against Tomioka’s swollen stomach.
Wait…
Genya’s brain short-circuited as realization hit him like a punch to the gut. If they’re together…!? That means… I’m gonna be an uncle!? His mouth opened, then shut again, then opened as if to speak, but nothing came out. Also, it was so damn weird to see his brother acting like that with a person that wasn’t family.
Meanwhile, Muichiro continued observing the scene calmly, his tone as airy as ever but with more care now. “I only confirmed Shinazugawa-san was the alpha Tomioka-san was talking about because of their argument. It was… loud. And very awkward, at least for me it was. That was until they started growling, then it was frightening.”
Genya nodded, vaguely picturing how intense it must’ve been to be in a vicinity of an alpha and an omega quarreling like that. He followed Muichiro’s line of sight instead of gazing at the side of his face.
Genya’s face flushed as he watched his brother lean in, his forehead resting gently against Tomioka’s. That’s really intimate. Like how mated pairs should act like, something he never saw between his parents.
And then it happened.
His brother kissed Tomioka.
Genya jerked back slightly, his face heating up as if he’d just walked in on something he really shouldn’t have. “Ah… fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“They look sweet,” Muichiro remarked, still staring like it was the most normal thing in the world. Genya let out a huff, crossing his arms and pointedly looking away. “I guess…” he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Truthfully, seeing Sanemi like that—gentle, careful, and openly affectionate—was something Genya had never imagined possible. It was… weird. But not in a bad way.
Aniki… you really changed, huh?
Still awkward and unsure what to do with this knowledge, Genya muttered again under his breath, this time so quiet Muichiro couldn’t hear, “…Don’t fuck it up, aniki.”
In the distance, amidst the crash of steel and the ringing hum of Upper One’s Blood Demon Art cutting through the night, Himejima offered a rare, quiet smile. His towering frame moved with grace and precision despite the weight of his chained axe and flail, sweeping them in wide arcs to stall Kokushibo’s advance. Himejima was focused, his blind eyes closed as always, trusting the rhythm of the world around him.
Kokushibo snarled. “What are you smiling for, monk?”
His voice was thick with disdain, distorted by the many mouths along his blade. His dozens of eyes writhed, glowing with fury, but Gyomei did not answer immediately. He only stepped forward again, matching the Upper Moon blow for blow, drawing Kokushibo’s attention and keeping him locked down.
“It is not for you to understand,” Himejima said calmly. “But even amidst this chaos, bonds are being restored.”
The demon’s face twisted in confusion and hate, but Himejima continued, his voice like a steady drumbeat through the storm. “You think strength lies only in the sword. That unity is weakness. But you were wrong, Michikatsu. It is the connection that anchors us.”
From the corner of his senses, Gyomei could feel the shift in wind—Sanemi’s wind. The pressure of it returned, sharp and fierce as ever, and Gyomei knew without seeing that the younger Pillar had rejoined the fight, his steps sure, his blade even surer. Sanemi’s spirit was no longer ragged. He was no longer flinching from a wound not on his flesh, but in his heart.
That was enough for now.
Behind him, Sanemi shouted, the force of his technique cutting across the battlefield. “Don’t fucking ignore me!”
Kokushibo turned just as Sanemi came flying in, wind blades slashing across his side. The demon hissed in pain as a deep gash opened across his ribs—he hadn’t anticipated the Hashira would recover so quickly, let alone strike so fiercely.
Gyomei stepped back, letting Sanemi take the lead again as planned, lending his strength when needed. Sanemi’s jaw was clenched, his eyes fierce, but there was something lighter in the tension of his shoulders. There was clarity now, purpose beyond rage.
Gyomei exhaled deeply, raising his prayer beads and whispering a soft chant even as the battle raged on.
Good , he thought, his prayer was heard.
And in that silent moment between strikes, Gyomei thought he could almost feel the ripple of that love echo through the battlefield—like a prayer answered at last.
The battle with Muzan was exhausting.
Every second stretched like a lifetime, and Giyuu’s body was barely holding together. He could feel it down to the marrow. His lungs burned. His legs were numb. His sword arm kept trembling like it might give out at any second. It was a miracle that he didn’t need to go to the bathroom because he usually does all the time, like it was the babies favorite thing to do was kick at his bladder.
But worse than that—he swore he could hear them crying in his womb.
They weren’t real cries, not really. But the sensation was sharp and constant, like a ripple of unease in his gut. He didn’t know if it was simply from his wounds or actual pains from the pregnancy. It wasn’t just adrenaline or fear. It was instinct. His hand pressed to his side for a heartbeat. I know , he told them silently. Just a little longer.
A tentacle shot past his face, so fast it snapped the air. Giyuu ducked, jaw clenched, vision swimming. His katana lashed out without thought—Third Form: Flowing Dance—and cut through the appendage. But it was getting harder. His grip was too weak. His stance was too shaky.
“Tomioka-san!” one of the younger slayers shouted from behind, half-panicked. “You need to fall back!”
“I’m fine!” he snapped—but the truth was, he wasn’t.
They wouldn’t stop. Two, then three slayers pestered him like flies. “Please, just a minute’s rest!” one said. “You’re limping, sir! Let us cover—”
“I said I’m—!” He stopped mid-sentence, swaying.
A sharp cramp curled into his side like a hook. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. The younger slayers exchanged glances. Finally, against every fiber of his pride, Giyuu relented. He staggered back—not even resting, just slowing for a few seconds behind a broken wall of debris.
He knew realistically that he was endangering himself and his children but he also knew that there was no clear future for them—for future generations until Giyuu sees it through that Muzan’s reign of terror ends here, right now , with him in it.
He doesn’t have a doubt that he’ll get through it. All of them will.
The moment he stopped moving, it felt like everything hit him at once. His swollen ankle was throbbing. His back burned. His abdomen was tight and cramped. He usually had to pee at least once an hour these days, but he’d gone this entire fight without stopping. It didn’t make sense. Maybe adrenaline was numbing his bladder.
He sighed exasperatedly to himself, he allowed the few slayers that surrounded him to treat his wounds and stop the bleeding before he sprung back into action because Muzan was about to get burned and he wanted to be there for it.
He wanted to bear witness of his end for closure—to see that the sacrifices and labors of his passed loved ones bore fruit.
A dry cough brought his attention up—Tanjiro. The boy was lying near a fallen wall, unmoving. His sword was gone, and there were black veins crawling up his face. Poison.
Giyuu’s heart lurched. He tried to step forward, but his ankle buckled and he dropped to one knee.
He looked back behind him to look for someone to check on Tanjiro until he caught sight of a familiar person behind the pile of wooden rubble. He raised his voice, rasping, “Murata!”
The boy turned toward him, shocked. “Tanjiro can’t move! Take him somewhere safe—treat his wounds!”
“Right away!” Murata ran forward, scrambling over to where Tanjiro lied.
Giyuu pushed himself back to his feet. His vision swam, and he barely had time to react before another of Muzan’s tentacles lashed toward him—striking the hilt of his sword and whipping it out of his hands.
His fingers stung. His breath caught. Giyuu could feel his mind faltering for a moment, just like his blade, he was slipping. His ankle was more than swollen, it was essentially throbbing, more than he could bear. He doesn’t even know how he’s standing up right now.
His back was probably going to give out any moment now and he was just so fucking exhausted even if he was still mentally strong.
Iguro unleashed an attack in front of him and he could also see the spiked metal ball swinging that belonged to Himejima assisting the attack too.
“Shit—!” He went for the hilt, but he was too slow. His body wouldn’t move fast enough.
Then—
A blade sang past his cheek, so close it left a hot nick across his skin. It planted into the ground just beside him.
Sanemi’s voice roared from across the battlefield.
“DON’T SPACE OUT NOW OR I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”
Giyuu didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the sword, even as the muscles in his abdomen threatened to seize from the movement. With a trembling grip, he slashed upward— Dance of the Swift Current.
Sanemi’s voice again, louder this time—closer. “You better not die on me!”
Giyuu grit his teeth. “I’m not planning to,” he panted.
He pushed forward, sword heavy in his hands, his whole body screaming in protest. He had no idea how he was still moving. His breath was ragged. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes. There was so much blood he didn’t know if it was his or someone else’s.
Giyuu was holding onto the fact that he was still able to do this. He didn’t have a reason to hold himself back anymore from his doubts—he didn’t need to be caged by guilt and hanging onto what could’ve been.
He believed that he could do this because he is the Water Pillar and he will fight without shame until the very end. Until he was exhausted beyond his abilities. Because he knows it will be worth it.
Don’t stop. Keep going. You’re still here. They’re still safe.
He darted through two of Muzan’s sweeping attacks, narrowly avoiding a piercing strike that shattered the earth beside him. He turned on instinct—First Form: Water Surface Slash.
As long as he can still feel the lives of his pups inside him, the lives of those who are dedicating their futures just so that the outcome of this battle is in their favour, and his own will to live—Giyuu was unstoppable.
The battlefield blazed—metal clashed, whips cracked, fire and lightning and wind all converging.
From the chaos—
Sanemi’s voice again. “Giyuu!” he yelled, teeth gritted through the storm of blood and wind, “you better not die before I get to hold ‘em!”
Giyuu’s chest tightened. For a split second, he wasn’t on a battlefield anymore. He was somewhere after everything had settled down. Somewhere quieter, somewhere that looked like it could only come from his dreams that he thought was unattainable years before. Somewhere safe, where Sanemi’s voice wasn’t yelling out of panic, but from wonder. Where the babies were crying for the first time, and they were alive, and his— theirs .
Giyuu screamed and launched forward. His blade slashed through another tentacle. His body was collapsing, but his soul wasn’t done yet.
There were plenty of reasons as to why, because for the first time, he finally accepted that he was the Water Pillar. And because he made a promise to Nezuko and Tanjiro, they still needed saving.
Because this time around, he had a home to return to. And hopefully once he does return, his children will be waiting.
The battlefield was unrecognizable.
The ground was cracked and uneven, soaked with blood and scorched by fire. Corpses and splinters of wood, rubble from fallen buildings, and shattered weapons littered the space around them. The air reeked of copper, soot, and demon stench—but Giyuu hardly noticed anymore. His senses were overloaded.
Every time Muzan shrieked, the air trembled.
And still, they pressed forward.
Giyuu’s vision blurred slightly as he raised his katana again. He was trembling—not just from the effort, but from the reverberating shock of every kick and roll and turn inside him. His stomach pulsed from the sheer effort of standing, and he couldn’t even tell if the nausea was from blood loss or the babies trying to protest in unison.
“Giyuu! Prepare yourself!”
He whipped around at the voice—Sanemi.
Giyuu barely had time to react before Sanemi charged toward him and banged his blade hard against Giyuu’s katana.
Clang!
The impact sparked something electric through the steel. Giyuu gasped as the familiar red heat spread up his blade, igniting it from base to tip.
Sanemi cut him off, panting, sweat pouring down his face, his entire left side scorched and bleeding. The alpha didn’t need to say anything to him, just like always, the bond spoke for them. It amplified their collective determination, fueling their braveness and endurance with vigour. It was a pull that told Giyuu that they will survive this, that they better survive this because they are so very close to ending centuries of agony.
A crow cried above them, voice shrill over the storm of combat:
“One hour and three minutes until dawn!! ”
Giyuu’s fingers tightened around the hilt. Sanemi’s teeth flashed in a bloody grin as he raised his weapon beside Giyuu. “No problem. We’ll chop him into little pieces before the sun does.” Muzan let out another warped shriek of rage, and the ground shook beneath their feet.
They struck at the same time.
The clash with Muzan was a blur of blinding red, black ichor splattering like oil through the air. Muzan twisted his grotesque, elongated body to counter, sending out multiple limbs at once, but Iguro intercepted, his blade flashing.
“Don’t you dare hold back now!” Iguro yelled hoarsely, the whites of his eyes stark in the smoky haze.
Giyuu’s breathing had become shallow. His uniform clung to him like second skin—drenched, torn, and sticky. His ankle was buckling with every step, pain bursting through him like fireworks behind his eyes. His stomach was pulled taut and hard, and he kept a hand hovering near it every now and then, just to ground himself.
He looked up at Sanemi’s own bloody and burnt out state, he looked much like his fellow Pillars, the atmosphere was unmistakably filled with the scent of warfare and blood.
Sanemi’s face was as battered as the battlefield—smeared with blood, jaw clenched.
Giyuu’s stomach was churning a bit from it all, especially with the added hypersensitivity of his pregnancy. He doesn’t have difficulty breathing but the overpowering scent of blood and death permeating in the air held him back from fully maximizing the limits of his breathing. His face was throbbing in pain—actually pain was throbbing from all over—his breath wasn’t labored yet but he was trying his best to even out to last a little longer despite the horrifying smells. So he could savour this moment, their moment of victory, he knows it.
Sanemi stared back at him too, with the softness Giyuu was familiar with and not the intimidating facial expression he had during battle. A look that said he was determined to end this, a look that said you better be there when I wake up . His eyes conveyed a different softer message compared to his entire face—a message only Giyuu could understand.
Giyuu gritted his teeth and nodded back slightly.
Then he raised his blade again. Even with every nerve screaming. Even as a wave of dizziness hit him. Even as blood trailed from his lip, and sweat dripped down his jaw. He refused to stop.
Behind them, Kanroji’s voice rang out as she crashed down with a ribbon-like slash:
“He’s weakening—just a bit more!!”
Himejima bellowed across the field, dragging Muzan back by the chain wrapped around his arms. “Everyone, brace yourselves!!” Slayers poured from the sides, a final wave of support, swords glowing red.
The pressure was unbearable, but Giyuu steadied his feet.
He turned to Sanemi one last time, breathing hard.
“After this…” he rasped.
Sanemi blinked. “What?”
“We’re naming them.” His voice was soft but clear. “Both of them. Together.”
Sanemi exhaled shakily, a laugh caught between pain and awe. “Then you better not die on me, Giyuu.” Giyuu raised his sword again, heart racing. “I won’t. Not before I see his ashes.”
And they leapt into battle again—side by side.
Every Pillar who could still fight there was releasing their own attacks to weaken Muzan despite their exhaustion, Himejima was pulling Muzan back with all his strength along with the other slayers using the chains of his weapon. Debris kept falling onto the giant swollen baby demon, desperately trying to slow him down.
They were not going to relent until Muzan burned under the sun.
It was a blur after that. Giyuu’s last memory was that they were all blown away by his Blood Demon Art and everyone was scattered all over the battlefield—but it wasn’t a problem anymore because shrieks of joy erupted the more the sun appeared in the sky.
Right when they thought everything was finally over, when the last echoes of Muzan’s inhuman shrieks had vanished and the battlefield was quiet save for groans and orders, the aftermath settled like dust in the air—heavy and unrelenting.
Kakushi darted through the broken battlefield, shouting out names, laying out stretchers, calling for medical herbs, blood transfusions, splints, anything they could do to keep the surviving Hashira from slipping away.
Giyuu, barely able to stand upright from the burning throb in his legs and the tightening pressure in his abdomen, was still not focused on himself.
“Where…is Tanjiro…” he rasped, eyes scanning the field in the haze of smoke and sunlight.
One of the Kakushi tried to usher him down again, nearly in a panic. “Tomioka-san! Please, you have to lie down! You’re—you have internal injuries—!”
But Giyuu didn’t hear it. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.
“Where…Tanjiro…” he kept muttering, his voice dry and barely forming the words. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth as he limped forward, ignoring the searing pain in his lower back and the shifting weight of the children inside him. Each movement was like dragging a thousand blades through his muscles, and yet he walked.
“First the treatment, please, Tomioka-san—” another Kakushi pleaded.
Then he saw him.
Over the shoulder of a Kakushi treating another slayer, Giyuu caught sight of the silhouette kneeling in the dust. Tanjiro’s body was still, his head hung so low his forehead nearly touched the ground, and all around him the Kakushi were quiet—too quiet. One of them, with a trembling hand, bowed their head and whispered something to their colleague that Giyuu barely caught:
“He…he’s not breathing.”
The world swayed.
Giyuu’s stomach lurched and a cold sweat dripped down his back. For a second, it felt like his legs would give out, but he forced them forward.
“Tanjiro…” he croaked, limping through the ash.
When he reached him, he collapsed to his knees beside him. Tanjiro’s hands were coated in drying blood, his knuckles scraped raw from gripping his sword until the very end. His lips were pale. His body didn’t move.
Tears blurred Giyuu’s vision before he even realized he was crying. The back of his throat tightened as he reached out, gently taking Tanjiro’s rough hand in his own trembling one.
He bowed forward until his forehead nearly touched the younger alpha’s hand. Giyuu’s senses were overcome by grief upon facing the consequences of having to end a legacy. It wasn’t the same grief that rattled him to become motionless but it was grief nonetheless. Here lies in front of him a mosaic of his failed promise. “Once again… I couldn’t protect them,” he whispered.
His chest shook with each breath, and the pressure in his belly grew unbearable, like his babies could feel the grief inside him. A small kick pulsed under his ribs as if to bring him back, as if to say: we’re here.
“I’m only protected by others...” He shut his eyes tightly, the tears falling freely now. “Forgive me.”
Around him, the wind picked up softly, carrying the scent of blood and ash with it. Somewhere behind, the sunlight was beginning to rise over the remains of the battlefield.
Giyuu whispered into the silence, his voice so quiet it might’ve been carried away by the breeze. “…I’m sorry, Nezuko. I’m sorry.”
He squeezed Tanjiro’s hand one last time, gently lowering it to his side. His head dipped, pressing briefly to Tanjiro’s shoulder.
For that moment, the world was just stillness, grief, and the ache of another promise broken.
Giyuu’s last waking breath felt warm in his chest, almost like a fire going out peacefully after a long, harrowing night. He barely registered the tears that streamed down his cheeks as he reached for Tanjiro’s still-warm hand, the memory of the boy’s feral eyes burning into his vision.
Then a brief panic—the sudden rush of adrenaline when Tanjiro had regenerated his arm and slashed toward a Kakushi. The sickening sound of flesh almost being pierced. The terrifying realization that Tanjiro was no longer human.
But Giyuu had acted, instincts sharper than pain. “Move away!” he cried out, hoarse and shaking. “Those who can still move! Take your weapons and gather together!” He had pulled Tanjiro away just in time, not to hurt him, but to stop him from hurting others. It broke his heart even more than his battered body already had.
Then the blade—red, ready—hovered over his shaking hands as he aimed to restrain Tanjiro, not kill. He had told himself that over and over. Not kill. Not kill. Just stop him. Just… stop him.
He couldn’t let him go into the shadows so Giyuu tried to immobilize him without outrightly landing a blow. Tears streamed on his face again, regardless of pregnancy hormones, he knew he would still tear up at the thought of losing him.
But Tanjiro had slashed his chin anyway.
And Giyuu had seen at that moment that it wasn’t his Tanjiro. It was a demon wearing his face. The boy who once begged demons not to be alone. The boy who swore to protect his sister. The boy who reminded Giyuu what it meant to be alive.
He had fought to restrain him, each step heavier than the last.
The yellow haired boy screamed something incomprehensible as he lunged toward Tanjiro, crying with all his might. The boy with the boar mask had hesitated for the first time Giyuu could recall, his blade trembling. And Nezuko—Nezuko had stood tall, face streaked with tears and soot, arms open, not to fight, but to reach her brother.
It broke his heart seeing Nezuko, the yellow haired boy, and the boy with the boar head trying to decapitate a beloved person in their life. He thought that it was unusual for Tanjiro to resist eating Nezuko when he is so keen on killing, Giyuu knew that a miracle must happen in order to save him because neither sunlight nor a red nichirin blade could stop him.
When Kocho’s tsuguko, Kanao, threw the vial with trembling hands and managed to plunge the cure into Tanjiro’s neck, time seemed to stop.
He fell.
Tanjiro collapsed like a string-cut puppet, unmoving.
“Tanjiro…” Giyuu had whispered as he dropped beside him, pressing one bloodied palm against his chest, hoping to feel something, anything, other than the absence of breath. Across from him, Nezuko knelt with her own hands outstretched, murmuring the same plea. “Come back, come back, please.” It was like Giyuu could feel the pain and guilt radiating from her in harmful waves, he was saddened.
The yellow haired boy was sobbing by Tanjiro’s hip and the kid with the boar head mask was lightly holding his head.
And like a miracle—no, it was a miracle—Tanjiro stirred.
His eyes fluttered open. The pink of his scar bloomed again, but not with corruption. His gaze, dazed but human. The screams of joy and relief around them didn’t reach Giyuu in full. The Kakushi’s hands descended on him, voices panicked and urgent. Once Tanjiro regained consciousness, relief flooded Giyuu. Multiple Kakushi fussed over him immediately, afraid that Giyuu was not only going to lose his life but also his babies.
“Tomioka-san! He’s bleeding!”
“His pulse is dropping—get the medicine!”
“Careful, he’s still pregnant!”
He barely felt the needle prick or the medicine that followed. His hand, almost on instinct, slipped over the curve of his belly—his children, safe.
They were safe.
Tanjiro was alive.
Nezuko was whole.
It turns out, he had protected them after all.
Wait. Where was Sanemi?
Giyuu tried to roam his eyes around his surroundings, just to get a glimpse of those familiar tufts of white hair. He needed to know if Sanemi kept his promise lest he starts bawling his eyes out right at this moment.
The moment the medicine touched his bloodstream, the pain seemed to drain from his limbs. He was being moved—someone had lifted his body to a more comfortable mat, soft cloth beneath him, warm bandages pressing into his skin.
He heard faint voices but they merged together like he was underwater:
“He’s stable.”
“We’ll have to monitor the babies closely.”
“Give him rest.”
The only thoughts in his head were that it turns out he got to protect the people he loved and cared about after all and the faint echoes of trying to sense his mate.
And then—silence.
Notes:
I know, I know, this chapter was a little short compared to the other previous ones but I decided to keep this chapter fully focused on the events that happened in the infinity castle arc and separate the aftermath because when I was writing it, I felt like it was absolutely lengthy but it also seemed like it was rushed, I guess? It didn't feel right to just mush them all together especially when there is so much to unpack after Muzan's defeat and jumping right into that whole process right away like the manga did isn't what I wanted to do eventhough I initially planned it that way. Ultimately, I decided that the aftermath deserves its own chapter instead of being mixed into this one. It was either this or I could've left you guys with an even worse cliff hanger so...keep that in mind!
At least sngy are finally somewhat making up! in the middle of a war abviously because they're dramatic like that instead of communicating earlier so they wouldn't have been interrupted again. also, i thought that would be something they would do, only properly communicating when they really have to communicate or they're running out of time, always to the last minute of everything.
As always, I treasure every word, every emoji, every kudos you guys throw my way:)) we are also officially past the halfway mark before I finish this fic, how exciting!!!
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