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He was soft faced…
Eyes a gentle teal, skin like porcelain. Delicate and demure like a doll, almost feminine at first glance. Tokito.
When you first heard you’d be training with the Mist Hashira, you honestly weren’t worried. You felt no concern, figuring (naïvely) that he always carried the same attitude, and as such…would he not be tender with you?
What you didn’t expect was how his personality could do such a 180, that when he was a teacher, he wasn’t really Tokito anymore.
“In a real battle, you won’t just be getting bruises. You’ll be getting sliced and torn apart. You won’t just be aching the next day. You’ll be dead.”
His stern tone, so different from what you were used to, echoed in the training room, all ten of you standing to attention as he paced back and forth.
“At this rate, anyway. From what I can see, not one of you is prepared for a
real
fight.”
You were standing furthest at the end of all the others. Your stance was tense, and your head was low. You found it a little hard even just to look up at him whenever he passed by, as if meeting his gaze would somehow double down on your nerves.
“All of you, need improvement…”
His black-socked feet padded down the extent of the room until they had reached your position, and he stood before you, giving you a full view of just how that once sweet, sparkling gaze had shifted. Now it looked coldly focused.
“That includes you, [Y/N].”
The training session proceeded. Just as you now expected, he was ruthless with every contender. Each harsh smack of his wooden sword against flesh was enough to make you flinch, and as he worked his way down the line, picking out each person to spar, your sense of dread grew and grew.
He actually made some of them cry. You worried you’d do the same, and he’d think of you as a weakling from then on. Though perhaps it was fair to say he already did…
“[Y/N]. Your turn.”
Slowly raising your head, you met that chilly gaze again and swallowed nervously, before nodding and walking forward with stiff limbs. You positioned yourself before him, holding your own weapon before you, unable to hide how nervous you were.
He saw it. He saw the way you were quivering, trembling, but still, made no comment. He only signaled for the fight to begin.
The two of you circled around each other warily, staring at one another, though compared to his more serene, confident expression, you must have looked like some frazzled little field mouse.
I have to prove myself!
A little too hastily, you attempted to strike him. However, with a sharp CLACK! he easily parried, then prepared his counter attack. The wooden sword cut through the air towards you with such smoothness it almost seemed like a real blade, and you squinted, freezing in place, bracing yourself for the pain that was surely coming-
…Yet it was only a gust.
A small puff of air, as Tokito deliberately stopped the sword from touching your neck mere millimeters away. Had he not, you’d have been sent crumbling to the ground.
Shaking, a bit bewildered, you opened your eyes and looked at him again. He may have stopped himself from hitting you, but that didn’t change how stern he still looked now.
“So. [Y/N]. What do you think of your own performance?”
The rhetorical question he posed had you utterly on edge. You knew what the answer was. ‘Poor’. You already knew, it hadn’t been good enough.
It hadn’t been good enough…
“Disappointing, overall. Tomorrow we’re going to have to up the ante I guess.” Tokito uttered in disappointment, and dismissed the group. Only, as you were filing out after the others, also about to leave, he put his arm out and stopped you.
“Not you, [Y/N].” he said, waving you back a few steps, “You and I need to do some extra training.”
Looking over at him sheepishly, a part of you wanted to plead with him not to do this. You could train on your own time, right? You’d had enough humiliation for one day.
However, he wasn’t having it. And as you were guided to the center of the room, you soon had one of the swords thrust into your grip again, Tokito looking across at you expectantly.
“Now. We’re going to spar until you get this right.”
This time around, you didn’t try going for him first. That hadn’t worked out so well previously, after all. But he still came at you with a quick attack and you, again, couldn’t avoid it in time. Moments before the sword hit you though, you swore you saw a flash of worry in his eyes. But it was snuffed out as quickly as you were smacked, and you doubled over with pain, clutching your left side.
“...I know it hurts, [Y/N].” he uttered, “But it’s going to hurt far worse when it’s an actual weapon.”
“I-I know–” you grunted, a little tearfully, but pulled yourself together as best as you could and straightened up again.
Every time you did this, every time you tried to face him head on, bravely, he would counter with a strike that left another welt or bruise on your body. Finally, it got to the point where he’d left you too winded to stand properly, and his frustration finally showed, his teeth grit as he tossed his sword aside and stepped right up to you.
“[Y/N]! Why even bother with Hashira training if you’re never going to get it right! It’s like you’re not listening to any of the advice I give you!”
You had still been doubled over, holding yourself while he snapped at you. But you slowly, a little wearily, raised your head and looked up at him, sniffing. Tears that you had been fighting hard to bite back earlier were now lingering around the edges of your eyes.
Tokito was startled. His stony, disgruntled expression wobbled into something more emotionally raw. The worry was back, and he was finding it hard to hide too.
“I’m sorry…I know I’m weak, and I’m useless. I know I should have never signed up for this! It’s just…” you winced, and gripped your side a little tighter, “...Demons killed my sister. If I can’t avenge her then there’s no point for me to keep on living…”
Hot, salty trickles streamed down your cheeks as you let out a little sob, shaking your head, “I don’t want to give up but…I know I…I know I can’t do this!”
There was a moment of tense silence between you two, a pregnant pause during which you were too afraid to look at him, too afraid to see that cold expression again. Yet, when you finally braved it, you were shocked by what you saw.
He was looking at you sadly. Guiltily. His visage was soft and tender once more, his ocean eyes wide and glimmering like they were on the verge of crying too.
And he finally spoke.
“[Y/N]...do you know why I’m trying so hard with you? Why I’m pushing you this much, why I’m being so serious about it?”
Gazing up at him, a little lost, you shook your head slowly and quietly. In return, his lips broke into a gentle smile, and his slender hand met your shoulder with a soft, comforting touch.
“It’s because I know how much that means to you. I know you don’t want to give up. For your sister’s sake…”
To your surprise, his hand slid up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently brushing away the tears upon it.
“But…you should also do it for your own sake. Prove it to yourself. You aren’t as weak as you think you are.”
As his hand smoothly pulled back again, it graced a few strands of your hair, tugging them gently and letting them slip between his fingers smoothly. You felt a heat in your cheeks, a tiny flush spreading there, covering the red marks and bruises that had been left.
“Do you…really think that?”
You asked him innocently. He smiled warmly.
“Yes, [Y/N]. I do.”