Chapter Text
“Make it believable, shithead.”
Sanemi was utterly and unequivocally fucked. He had fallen for somebody he loathed. The same guy who was arrogant, who believed himself better than everyone else. How could this have happened? But at the same time, he thought, it was inevitable. Every single thing about Tomioka - apart from his personality, no doubt - was undeniably ravishing. Everything, even down to his sharp jawline and the slight curve of his nose.
The slight curve of said man’s nose was the sight he was eyeing now, Tomioka sitting across from him, observing the scenery behind the window in the same quaint restaurant the two had been in the evening prior.
“Oi, Tomioka,” Sanemi leaned in to quietly address the ravenette, “I’ll order for you. Your voice is suspiciously deep.”
Tomioka nods, without a word. Sanemi raises his eyebrows and Tomioka seems to eventually pick up that he was supposed to respond.
“I’ll just have rice,” then, after a pause, he utters a hardly audible, “please.”
Sanemi’s eyebrows raised even higher, not only had he used manners, the guy had also barely eaten anything at all these past couple of days. Debating whether or whether not to confront Tomioka about his eating habits, Sanemi eventually decides against it. Which might not be the right decision, given it could affect his slaying, but he seemed to be fine. On top of this, the bastard was a grown man. And Sanemi totally wasn’t worried. He probably just had a small appetite, like Iguro... Or he was a total attention seeker.
Yeah, it’s probably the latter.
“How may I take your order?”
His train of thought successfully cut off, Sanemi replies, “I’ll have the Miso Soup, please.”
The waiter’s eyes land on Tomioka; questioning.
“Oh, h–she...isn’t much of a talker. She will have rice. And can we get a kettle of tea with that?”
The waiter seems satisfied and leaves with a simple nod. Sanemi suddenly feels Tomioka’s eyes boaring into the side of his head and he faces him, “something on my face, dipshit?”
Tomioka seems to debate his next words carefully, “It’s peculiar seeing you so civil.”
He may be pretty but damn is he annoying.
“The fuck is that supposed to–” Sanemi cuts himself off with a deep sigh and a hand running through his hair. He can’t cause a scene in public, especially when they’re supposed to act as if they were in a relationship. “I’m civil to anyone who isn’t you.”
♪
Their meals eventually were served to them, and Giyuu struggled to finish the last of his rice. His issue was not only that he lacked much of an appetite, but he also knew he was undeserving of a meal, just like he was everything else. It was childish, and he knew Sabito would disapprove of this. Yet even so, Giyuu couldn’t shake the fact that he was living on borrowed time; meaning he couldn’t - shouldn’t - get to have trivial things such as hand prepared meals.
With that, hoping that he hadn’t smudged his lipstick, Giyuu set down his chopsticks and waited patiently for Shinazugawa to finish his meal. Glancing again out the window, he noticed the sun routinely beginning to set.
He cast his eyes back towards Shinazugawa sat infront of him. He looked content, enjoying his food. The ghost of Shinazugawa’s fingers interlocked with his own lingered. Even if it seemed he’d been squeezing his hand tight on purpose, it hadn’t affected the way the warmth seeped from his hand all the way into his chest. Normally, he had an aversion to touch, the consequences of being without it for as many years as he had. It was different with the wind pillar, though - as if he craved his touch rather than shied away from it.
Eventually, when Shinazugawa had made short work of his Miso Soup, the two had payed and left, not without thanks towards the owners for their service. On their way out, the woman at the register warned them of the dangers outside and told them to be careful. Shinazugawa had once again clasped Giyuu’s hand in his, and thanked the woman, the two of them bowing politely before taking their leave.
♪
Once outside, Shinazugawa had yet to remove his hand from Giyuu’s. The town around them once again had fallen silent since the sun had set. There wasn’t a word uttered between the two - yet there hadn’t needed to be. Giyuu reached his free hand towards where the outline of his katana was beneath the fabric of his kimono, focusing on his total concentration breathing - more concious of it than usual. The other Hashira squeezed his hand twice; they walked at a faster speed, their eyes cast straight ahead.
And there it was. The feeling. It hit them suddenly, just as it always did, yet it was stronger than the first time they’d felt it. A strange odour accompanied it, too; not uncommon. Something else, as well - the air around them felt awfully thick, something that was normal when facing Demons, yet usually it could be something you could write off. Not this, though, it was so thick that Giyuu’s limbs begun to grow heavy.
Despite this, the Water Hashira reached down and unsheathed his sword, taking an unfaltering defensive stance.
That’s when it appeared, the Demon in all of it’s glory, emerging from admidst the mass of dark shadows; gangley sillhouette and all.
Immediately, without warning, it lunged at the two.
They were faster, though. Giyuu rolled out of it’s range, Shinazugawa slashing it’s arm off, with little struggle. Weaker than they’d guessed, he supposed. Though it wasn’t right to judge too quickly.
Giyuu got a better look at the demon, noting it’s snow white skin, it’s long wiry black hair reaching below it’s waist. It wore a midnight purple yukata and it’s sleeves fell below the demon’s shoulders, revealing a long scar down the middle of it’s chest - it’s wide uncanny eyes glowing a distinct pink that gleamed in the ever present moonlight.
“You’re pesky ones aren’t you?” The demon’s voice was raspy; unused. It said this with agitation, impatience at the situation.
Always one to face danger head-on, Shinazugawa lunged foreward; “Wind breathing, first form: Dust Whirlwind!”
The demon’s eyes sharpened, not making a move to dodge. “Blood demon art: condense.”
At this, Giyuu’s eyes widen as the atmosphere drastically grows thicker, onlooking as Shinazugawa’s form faulters, his movements turning sluggish, unable to properly slice the pesky demon.
That’s it - the demon’s blood art - condensing the air around them, creating difficulty for fast precise movements. It seemed, from where Giyuu observed, the closer you got to the demon, the thicker the atmosphere grew.
.
As Sanemi finally got his blade to reach the Demon’s neck, the condensement of the atmosphere around him grew dramatically, his speed slowing down and his oxygen being cut off made it so that the Demon managed to grab him and throw him - for a while, Sanemi couldn’t see anything but the blurred buildings speeding by him, his arms heavy beneath the pressure of the air; unable to perform a form inorder to break his fall.
His back collided with a wall, and his vision went black.
This had been a mistake - a hell of a painful mistake - Sanemi should have learned his opponents movement pattern before jumping right in.
.
Giyuu watched as Shinazugawa went flying, internally grimacing as he noticed his landing.
He’d check on him later - for now, he had to remain calm. Figure out how he could get around this Demon’s technique.
“You,”
The Demon regards him, Giyuu giving it nothing but a side-eye in response.
“I want you. Let’s make a deal; come with me and I won’t make things difficult.”
“That won’t be possible.”
The Demon splutters and it’s nose wrinkles, “You’re no woman - I’ve been decieved!”
The Demon’s arm shoots towards him, though even despite the highly dense air, Giyuu was faster. He jumps up and flips over the Demon - slashing an arm off on his way.
That’s when it struck the blue-eyed Hashira. It was exactly as the saying goes, ‘The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife,” - He could literally slice through the atmosphere, he’d noticed the tear when he’d sliced the Demon’s arm. Although, the only set back was that the density of the air, just like the Demon, regenerated within milliseconds.
This meant only one thing:
Giyuu had to be faster.
“Water Breathing - eleventh form; Dead Calm.”
Giyuu controlled his breathing, rid his head of any incoming thoughts; a blank headspace. He positioned himself before his opponent - focusing on the rythmetic beat of his heart, Giyuu carefully slowed it down.
Calm waters without so much as a gentle breeze surrounded him, replacing the previously dense air that had been weighing at him.
His feet moved foreward on their own; he sauntered, his arm slicing a path for him at a speed the average human eye wouldn’t be able to catch. Any incoming attacks thrown his way wouldn’t reach him in the state - Giyuu was untouchable; invincible.
Then, the Demon was suddenly before him, and in an instant - it was all over.
Giyuu heard a ’thunk’ which, having heard this sound many times over, he knew was the decapitated head of the demon hitting the ground.
Yet, despite his annihilation of the Demon, the ravenette’s limbs still felt heavy, like a thousand dumbbells were weighing him down. His vision was clouded with black spots, his breaths were short and he felt unsteady on his feet.
Giyuu’s knees finally gave in.
As he fell to the floor, following suit of the Demon, he didnt quite catch someone’s panicked voice shouting his name nor the strong arms that cradled his body tightly.
♪
Sanemi watched as Tomioka slashed the Demon’s head clean off.
Eleventh form, he’d (barely) heard the other man say. Weren’t there ten forms in water breathing?
Regardless; Sanemi was admittedly impressed that Tomioka took care of the Demon so fast, especially without his help.
He heaved himself off the ground, with the wall he’d crashed into’s help, his ribs aching - he’d undoubtedly broken one - and made his way over to the water pillar.
“Oi, Tomioka,” He called.
He didn’t respond.
Not unusual, though something seemed off.
“Hey! Tomioka!”
He staggered faster towards the man, and that’s when Tomioka began to sway.
“TOMIOKA!”
Just as his knees buckled, Sanemi had reached him and caught him in his arms, lowering him carefully to the ground.
The wind pillar scanned his body up and down for any sign of injury, yet there was nothing. Confused, Sanemi grasped Tomioka’s (too thin) wrist and checked for his pulse.
It was slow; sluggish, even.
That didn’t make any sense, though. What could have caused this? If not for...
Tomioka himself.
Tucking that information into the back of his head for later, Sanemi reached his left arm beneath Tomioka’s legs, and his right around his neck. He noticed Sorai in the air above him, shouting that kakashi had arrived.
“He needs immediate medical attention. Take him to the butterfly estate now,” Sanemi had told a Kakashi while depositing the limp man onto the other’s back.
♪
Giyuu woke up lying atop a comfortable mattress that couldn’t be his own.
He peeled his eyes open, he faced a wooden ceiling that could only be recognised as the Butterfly estate’s.
“I can see you’ve awoken, Tomioka-san.” He heard a sweet voice, yet it was muffled and his sleep-riddled brain had trouble keeping up. He blinked slowly, only then noticing how terrible he felt. His head was pounding and his body still felt heavy, as if he’d never left the high pressure atmosphere.
“You gave Shinazugawa-san and I quite the scare, you know,” The voice spoke again.
That’s when he finally noticed who it was.
“Kocho.” He murmured; an acknowledgement.
“Why, speaking of; there’s someone here to see you,” she said, tilting her hair in the direction of the door. Giyuu’s eyes weren’t very fast to follow, quite the opposite infact, yet when he did manage to look over he noticed a fuming Shinazugawa stood arms-crossed in the doorway.
“I suppose I’ll step out and leave you two to it, then,“ glancing at the two knowingly and dusting herself off, she added, “oh, and don’t go causing any trouble now, Shinazugawa-san.”
♪
As Kocho walked out, Sanemi shot her a minute glare then faced Tomioka again, his scowl deepening.
“Shinazugawa,” He greeted weakly.
“Did you lower your own heart rate on purpose?”
Tomioka blinked,
“Why does it matter?”
Shinazugawa sputtered in response, “Why would- why does it matter?!”
Tomioka cut him off, “I know I’m not the...best, in social situations, but I believe I haven’t misinterpreted your feelings for me.”
His...feelings? How did he-
“You hate me,”
Oh.
“And I know I’m not the most likeable person, so I understand. Despite whether I understand or not - I’m not too sure why you’d care about my wellbeing, let alone whether I lower my heart rate or not.”
And... That was probably the most Sanemi’d ever heard Tomioka speak at a time.
Nevertheless, Tomioka was right, wasn’t he? Sanemi hated him. Despised him with every inch of his being, right?
Except, that was wrong. He’d never hated him. Disliked him in the beginning, maybe, thought he was an arrogant prick, yes, and maybe he still does - yet he’d never hated him. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Tomioka was beautiful, Sanemi was infatuated and he couldn’t deny it any longer.
In that moment, the wind pillar made a split-second decision.
He grabbed Tomioka’s face in his hands and pulled him in, their lips connecting.
And oh, Sanemi was levitating.
Tomioka was tense at first, but slowly he relaxed and he found his hands tangled in Sanemi’s hair. It was as if they were the only two people in the world at that moment.
At last, after what felt like hours, they pulled back. Sanemi found himself lost in the other man’s eyes as they panted. Tomioka’s sleep-mussed hair sticking up in odd directions, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes wide staring back at Sanemi and his cheeks lightly dusted pink. He’d confront Tomioka about his concerns later. For now, Sanemi would like to stay here forever.
“You’re a shockingly good kisser,” Sanemi smirked. He’d never thought this to be the first compliment he’d give the bastard.
“I used to practise on my best friend.” Tomioka replied.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
♪
...If Shinobu found Tomioka and Shinazugawa cuddled up together that evening, she hadn’t said anything.