Archive of Our Own

Obanai had always known what his fate would be.

For as long as he could remember, his family had repeated the date like a mantra: on the day of his seventeenth birthday, the demon they served would come to take him as an offering. There was nothing beyond that moment—nothing he could picture after it. His life was a dark river he was destined to sink into sooner or later.

A trembling sigh escaped his lips beneath the bandage as he curled up on the futon pushed into the corner of the room.

Room? No. It was more of a cage.

A shiver ran down his spine as he realized only a few hours remained before the sun would set and the moon would rise—just a few hours until his seventeenth birthday began, bringing with it the end of his short life. Obanai looked at his snake, the one creature that had, ironically, been his only true companion throughout his existence. Kaburamaru brushed his cheek with his head in what almost felt like a caress before slithering away from his master’s body.

There wasn’t much time left. All he could do was wait. He sat with his back pressed against the far wall, hugging his knees and resting his chin on them. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander. He thought about the possibility of escaping—that maybe this time things would go right, that he wouldn’t be caught or punished again. He imagined what it might be like to live… to truly live a somewhat normal life and, maybe, just maybe, to fall in love.

Ha.

That was, without a doubt, the most absurd thought he could have. Fall in love? Ridiculous. No one could ever fall in love with him. His eyes were hideous, he was too weak, and to top it all off, the scar running across his face was impossible to erase. No, he could never have something like that. His sole purpose in life had always been to serve as food for a demon. His very birth had been planned for that reason. The demon, obsessed, had decided to let him grow until the “sweet” age of seventeen, when—according to it—his blood would be at its most tender. Nonsense.

Just a few hours remained before his life would end. A few hours before his tomb was completely sealed.

He tightened his hold around his legs as a tear slid down his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his little snake slither out of the cell. Obanai thought that maybe Kaburamaru was fleeing from that same fate, and he couldn’t stop him. The last thing he wanted was for his only companion to be hurt as well. All he could do was keep holding himself, trying to find some small comfort as he cried in silence.

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According to reports, a powerful demon was said to reside in that not-so-rural area to which he had been sent. During the days he had been investigating, Giyuu could only suspect one thing: a wealthy family living in an estate so beautiful it seemed almost out of place. Most of its members were women of unsettling, immaculate beauty, whom, ironically, the villagers feared deeply.

His suspicions pointed to the possibility that one of them could be the demon. Sooner or later, he would have to summon the courage to enter that house to confirm what he suspected.

What he never imagined was that, that very night, after sunset, a small albino snake would curl around his leg and act so… affectionate. Giyuu had no problems with animals, but he found it curious that this snake was so docile. It didn’t move much; he simply watched as the little reptile slowly descended from his body.

The hunter studied it closely. The snake studied him too, its intense red eyes fixed on him. Then it flicked its tongue with a faint hiss before turning and slithering through the grass. Giyuu thought their brief encounter was over, but the creature stopped, turned back toward him, and looked at him, as if expecting something.

The snake hissed again, moved forward a little, and stopped once more.

Giyuu blinked, incredulous. Was it his imagination, or was the snake trying to tell him to follow? He hesitated for a few seconds, but in the end, he decided to go along. The reptile moved slowly, making sure he didn’t fall behind.

And what did he have to lose?

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There was an extreme silence. To his surprise, it felt vaguely unusual, since his family was usually far too noisy once night fell. No sound reached his ears, only the chirping of crickets and the cold wind beginning to stir among the shadows.

Obanai grew slightly uneasy at his family’s absence that night. He had expected that, as soon as darkness fell, they would come for him to “prepare” him and deliver him to the demon. Yet, reality was completely different: no one had moved all that time.

A few minutes passed before he heard Kaburamaru return. The small reptile slithered back into the cell, watching him intently. It hissed, turned halfway, and left again. Obanai felt slightly confused; he wanted to approach the bars, but the sound of footsteps made him tense and instinctively want to hide.

It was useless—he knew sooner or later they would come for him. Still, a fleeting hope stirred amid the silence surrounding him.

The footsteps were soft. Suddenly, someone stopped in front of his cell.

It wasn’t any of the women from his family. Nor was it the demon.

“Hey.”

A gentle voice called to him. Obanai noticed Kaburamaru’s red eyes near the shoulders of that figure; the reptile seemed comfortably perched there.

“Hey,” the voice repeated. “Are you okay?”

There was a pause. It was a voice Obanai had never heard before, but he guessed it belonged to a young man. It sounded soft and low, as if trying to be cautious. With a little more confidence after seeing his snake hanging from the stranger’s shoulders, Obanai emerged slightly from the darkness. The boy studied him under the faint moonlight filtering in.

“C-Can… you understand me?” the young man asked again.

Obanai still couldn’t see him clearly, but he nodded, hoping the gesture was visible.

“Good… I, uh…”

The boy seemed to step back a few paces.

“I’m going to get you out of here. Be careful.”

The words confused him. Get him out? That was impossible. Before he could respond, the boy made a movement with what appeared to be a sword. The metal groaned, and the bars of the cell shuddered before collapsing with a dull thud. Dust rose into the air. Obanai stared, stunned.

“Hey, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Obanai swallowed hard. In front of him stood a boy, perhaps his age. His hair was black with rebellious strands, and his eyes… were as deep blue as the sea in which Obanai wished to drown. His features were fine and symmetrical, almost perfect. He was beautiful—the most beautiful person Obanai had ever seen. Not even the women of his family could compare to that silent beauty. For a moment, he felt envy that someone could possess such beauty, but also a longing to see that face more.

“I have to get you out of here. Come on,” the young man said, turning halfway, then paused to look at him again. “What’s the matter?… Oh, silly me. You might be hurt.”

The boy stepped closer. Obanai remained on the ground, barely processing what was happening. With a swift motion, the young man crouched and lifted him into his arms. Obanai barely had time to react as he was held firmly against the boy’s chest. Kaburamaru hissed, sliding down from the boy’s shoulders to his owner.

A deep blush spread across Obanai’s face, thankful that the bandages and the darkness hid his expression. The boy was taller than him, strong-built. Not that Obanai weighed much, but the arms and chest holding him felt solid, hard… yet the way he was carried was surprisingly gentle.

And so, they left the cell.

They moved through hallways Obanai had never dared to explore. Not because he couldn’t, but because he was always stopped too quickly whenever he tried to escape. He grew even more confused as they passed through an area he didn’t recognize; they didn’t even traverse the whole family estate or the place where the demon resided.

Wait… where was his family? The demon could appear at any moment and take both him and the boy helping him. He lifted his head to ask, but his words died when a scream echoed around them.

“Obanai!” shouted a voice. “Obanai!”

Obanai tensed at the sound of his cousin’s voice, seemingly running toward them. The boy carrying him carefully set him down upon seeing her approach. She was agitated, horrified, her clothes and face stained with blood.

“Everyone’s dead because of you!” she screamed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “None of this was supposed to happen! You were supposed to be sacrificed, and we would have been filled with glory!”

His cousin seemed completely unhinged, her voice broken with rage. She let go and raised her hand, ready to strike him in the face. Obanai flinched, closing his eyes and bracing for impact… but it never came.

A gasp of pain rang through the air. Obanai opened his eyes and saw the scene before him:

The boy who had saved him held his cousin’s raised hand firmly, stopping her in her tracks. His blue eyes were full of anger and hatred toward her.

“Your mere presence disgusts me,” he said, his voice no longer soft, but sharp and cold. “I don’t know why I still have the mercy to spare your life when the death penalty is more than deserved for all of you, for aiding a monster like that in surviving.”

Obanai and his cousin gasped. She, from the pain in her wrist under the boy’s iron grip; he, from the courage of this stranger who, without hesitation, faced her… and even threatened her with death.

The boy released her with obvious disgust, frowning as his previously soft features hardened.

“You!” his cousin shouted, pointing at him furiously. “This is all your fault too! Because of you, our entire family is dead!”

The young man reached for the hilt on his back, causing her to widen her eyes in shock and fear. Yet he said nothing at first; he only glanced at her sideways before looking away.

“I suppose we no longer need you, then,” he murmured coldly.

Obanai held his breath. He barely had time to react when he felt a warm hand grab his own, pulling him forcefully. He stumbled a few times, but the boy held him firmly and began running, guiding him swiftly through the rest of the estate’s garden.

Obanai blinked, confused, watching as the boy pulled him along with determination. The boy glanced back at him for a moment, giving him a soft smile before returning his gaze forward.

His feet were weak, the ground hurt the soles of his feet, but the boy didn’t stop.

Soon, they reached the family stables. The young man quickly untied one of the horses and, without giving Obanai a chance to react, looped his arms around his waist and lifted him onto the animal. Then he climbed up behind him, his back pressed against Obanai’s view.

“Hold on tight,” he warned, taking the reins.

The horse neighed and broke into a trot just as his cousin, accompanied by two others, ran toward them. Fear-stricken, Obanai wrapped his arms around the boy’s torso, closing his eyes tightly and resting his forehead against his back as the gallop quickened.

The sound of hooves striking the earth mixed with the roar of the wind. They were quickly leaving the estate behind, the prison that had seen him grow up in chains.

Obanai opened his eyes briefly, turning his head slightly. The moon illuminated the distance: there, among the shadows, lay his family’s estate, the demon’s lair, and his cage for seventeen years. Gradually, everything grew smaller, until it disappeared among the trees of the dense forest.

The wind struck his face violently, so he hid it again against the boy’s back, tightening his hold around his waist.

The young man glanced over his shoulder slightly, and seeing Obanai so clinging, allowed a soft smile to return to his lips.

It was a dark night, but he had come to pull him from his grave.

To save him from his cruel fate.

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Tomioka stopped the horse just as Kanzaburō neighed, signaling that they had arrived at one of the rest houses set up for the hunters. The young man turned his head slightly, feeling the small arms still clinging tightly around him. A faint smile appeared on his lips when he noticed that the girl was still holding onto him.

He slowly lowered his hands to hers, placing them gently on top of his. They were small, fragile… he could feel the bones beneath his touch.

“We’ve arrived,” he announced softly.

He felt the grip around his waist loosen quickly, and for a moment, he missed the contact.

“I’ll get down carefully first, then I’ll help you, alright?”

Silence was her only response, so he took it as a yes. He descended cautiously and then held the girl by her waist to help her down. Afterward, he took her hand and guided her toward the entrance of the rest house.

Tomioka was already familiar with these places; they were shelters prepared for hunters who needed a break between missions. He stopped just after crossing the threshold, seeing a figure step out onto the engawa.

“Oh, you look like shit,” his companion greeted with a half-smile.

“Shut up, Murata,” Giyuu replied in his usual dry tone, though without real annoyance.

Murata let out a teasing chuckle, and Giyuu, after rolling his eyes, barely managed a faint ghost of a smile. He had known him since the selection, and they had shared missions in the past; he liked him, though he rarely showed it.

“Heading out?” Giyuu asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a mission tonight,” Murata answered, adjusting his backpack. “How did yours go?”

Murata glanced at his companion with curiosity: Giyuu’s uniform was torn to shreds, and his face was smeared with dried blood. He truly did look like crap.

Giyuu took a moment to respond. He pressed his lips together, recalling the monstrosity he had faced that night—something that churned his stomach with disgust and hatred.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he murmured finally.

Murata nodded. In this line of work, everyone knew when not to push. Each mission confronted hunters with heartless, inhuman creatures—horrors capable of scarring even the strongest mind.

Then the young man’s eyes wandered backward, and a sly smile escaped him.

“Who’s?” he asked, pointing behind Tomioka with his finger.

Giyuu widened his eyes slightly, turning his head to see what Murata was pointing at. The girl was still holding his hand, seemingly trying to hide behind him.

“Did you kidnap someone, Tomioka?”

“What? No! I…”

“Sabito’s gonna get sooo mad,” Murata hummed teasingly, making Giyuu frown.

“I don’t care if Sabito gets mad… she’s my fiancée,” Tomioka lied, causing Murata to widen his eyes at how seriously Giyuu sounded.

Murata blinked, incredulous.

“Wow…” he said in an amused tone. “Well, I guess I’ll be the first to offer her my condolences.”

Murata tried to peek at the girl behind Giyuu, while he frowned further at the rude comment directed at him.

“Don’t you have a mission to go to?” he replied wearily. “Go on, leave. We’re exhausted.”

Murata let out a chuckle, conceding defeat, and began to walk away. Before leaving, he stopped in front of the girl and bowed slightly.

“Good luck, Tomioka-san,” he said with a smile before heading out, while his crow cawed impatiently, urging him to hurry.

Giyuu turned his gaze back to the girl, who was still watching the direction Murata had disappeared toward.

“Let’s go,” he murmured calmly, gently tugging her hand. “The night is getting colder.”

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They were greeted by the elderly woman who usually took care of the hunters at the rest houses. As always, she was kind and homey with her guests that night. She prepared a room for the both of them, and Giyuu continued guiding the girl behind him. To be honest, the young hunter had already grown accustomed to holding her hand; it didn’t bother him. He could do it for the rest of his life.

The sweet old woman handed them a fresh set of clothes for sleeping and informed them that the bath had been prepared for each of them.

Tomioka nodded slightly in gratitude and took the garments. Then he turned toward the girl. It was then, under the warm light of the house, that he could truly see her clearly… and it felt as if the air had been completely sucked from his lungs.

She was shorter than him, with long black hair tied in a low ponytail. It was such a dark shade that it made the paleness of her skin stand out even more—paler than Giyuu himself. But what struck him most were her eyes: one golden, the other a turquoise so intense it seemed to glow. Her face looked soft, with delicate features, though he couldn’t see it fully because a bandage covered half of it. Yet the bandage sparked an unconscious impulse in Giyuu: the desire to remove it and reveal that living masterpiece.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful. He could never imagine seeing anyone more beautiful than the person standing before him.

Still, there was something in her fragility that made him shiver. The girl looked weak, yet she was impeccably cared for, without a single visible wound. It unsettled him: perhaps that “care” existed because she had been preserved as an offering for the demon. The thought churned his stomach, making him frown.

He cleared his throat, shaking the thought from his mind, and spoke softly so as not to scare her:

“I suppose a bath will help us both relax,” he murmured, holding out one of the yukatas to her.

The girl looked at him with those large heterochromatic eyes, filled with a mixture of caution and curiosity. She didn’t seem to fully trust him, but neither did she reject him.

“You’re safe here,” Giyuu added in a calm tone. “No demons can enter this house.”

He didn’t know why, but he felt the need to say it. Perhaps to reassure her, perhaps to convince himself.

The girl hugged the yukata to her chest and, with some hesitation, turned on her heels to follow the directions he had given her toward the bath.

Giyuu watched her walk away. It took him a few seconds to react before letting out a sigh and heading toward his own bath.

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He was an idiot. Girl? That boy was truly stupid—he hadn’t even noticed that he was a boy. Obanai sat alone in the bath as the hot water eased the tension from his body and washed away the grime.

The worst part was that he hadn’t been able to argue. He had been even more stunned when he heard the boy introduce him as his fiancée to the other young man. A blush spread across his cheeks at the word. He felt a strange warmth in his chest, one that unsettled him. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe it was real, to indulge in being introduced without embarrassment. Just for a second, he imagined what it would be like to be that boy’s partner: someone attractive, strong, with a presence so steady it inspired confidence.

The warmth grew stronger when the boy bowed before him. Someone like Obanai didn’t deserve that, yet the words stuck in his throat when he heard the boy address him as “Tomioka-san.”

The boy hadn’t even introduced himself, but now Obanai knew his surname.

Tomioka.

And yet, it still annoyed him that the boy saw him as a girl. He wanted to correct him, to tell the truth… but he always stayed silent when Tomioka gave him that gentle look, when his blue eyes softened and a tiny smile curved his lips. Every time that happened, Obanai’s mind short-circuited at the sheer beauty of the boy.

That didn’t change the fact that he was an idiot.

Obanai hugged his knees inside the wooden tub. Idiot or not, he knew that Tomioka had saved him from a cruel fate. By now, he wouldn’t even be alive—yet here he was, far from the grasp of his family and that demon. In a matter of minutes, his life had completely turned around.

It felt strange to bathe alone… without the cold, controlling hands of his family, who had always washed him with almost sickening precision to maintain that “pure” image, that purity meant only to satisfy the demon. The memory made him shiver. It was gone. It no longer existed. The demon was dead… and part of his family as well.

He hugged his knees tighter. Perhaps someone had heard his desire to escape and had sent an angel for him.

A stupid angel.

A beautiful angel.

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The doctor had just left Giyuu alone in the room, where two portions of food had been set out. The hunter, freshly bathed and wearing a soft yukata, waited patiently for the girl.

He felt a little more cheerful, leaving behind the bitter taste of the mission. Part of his good mood came from knowing he would have a bit more time to spend with the girl before bedtime.

The shoji slid open with a soft sound, and Giyuu turned with a smile at the door… but his joy faded quickly when he recognized who it was.

“What are you doing here?” he frowned.

“Is that how you speak to a Hashira, Tomioka?”

“Go to hell, Sabito.”

“That’s not how you talk to a superior,” Sabito raised an eyebrow, amused. “A lower-ranked hunter shouldn’t be so rude.”

Giyuu crossed his arms, visibly annoyed, as Sabito entered with that smug smile that always got under his skin and sat down across from him.

“Just got back from a mission, and you greet me with insults,” he shook his head in mock disappointment. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re my brother.”

Giyuu sighed, still irritated, watching the older boy who didn’t drop that self-satisfied smile.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my mission went?” Sabito settled onto the cushion in front of him, also crossing his arms.

“No.”

“No? Come on, Giyuu.”

“I told you, no.”

The Ice Hashira sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before resuming his smug expression. Just as he was about to speak again, the shoji slid open once more, revealing a figure in the doorway.

Both turned to look at the newcomer.

Obanai froze, completely perplexed to see the stranger in front of Tomioka. He looked about his age, with fine, defined features, exuding confidence and pride. His eyes, a cold lavender, watched carefully. His hair, messy and pale pink like peaches, fell in unruly strands across his forehead, giving him a youthful air.

But what drew the most attention was the scar that ran across half of his face: he didn’t hide it, but seemed to wear it naturally, which only accentuated his maturity.

“Who is that?” he asked in a rough yet soft voice, turning his gaze from Obanai back to Tomioka.

“She…,” the hunter cleared his throat, glancing at Sabito. “She is…”

It was then that Giyuu realized he had never introduced himself to the girl. He hadn’t even told her his name. Suddenly, he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

He had rescued her, taken her away from that horrible family, even lied to Murata saying she was his fiancée… only to discover he didn’t even know her name.

Sabito wasn’t going to let that slide.

As if reading his thoughts, the older boy smirked at his brother’s stunned expression. Then he turned his gaze toward the person still standing nervously in the doorway.

“May I know who you are?” Sabito asked, his tone softening, relaxing his features. “I assume my brother hasn’t bothered to ask your name.”

The Ice Hashira stepped forward, making a slight bow before introducing himself.

“Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Sabito Tomioka, Ice Hashira.”

Obanai studied him carefully. Up close, this boy was even more handsome—though, in his own judgment, not as much as the dark-haired one still sitting on the floor, watching them with bewilderment.

“I am Obanai Iguro,” he murmured for the first time, his voice soft but slightly deep, revealing without a doubt that he was not a girl.

“Nice to meet you, Iguro-san,” Sabito offered a kind smile. “Are you new to the Corps?”

The younger boy pressed his lips beneath the bandage and shook his head, diverting his gaze toward the hunter sitting further back in the room, trying to process what he had just heard.

The Ice Hashira followed his gaze just as Giyuu, clearly confused, murmured:

“Obanai…? You’re a boy?”

Iguro lowered his head slightly, nervous, and nodded. Perhaps the hunter would be shocked to have mistaken him for a girl, but well, it was his fault for being so oblivious. He couldn’t see, however, the smile that formed on Giyuu’s lips.

Before the dark-haired hunter could say anything, Sabito intervened:

“Giyuu, are you going to tell me what young Iguro-san is doing here?” He snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s face, pulling him out of his daze.

Giyuu frowned, coming out of his confusion, and looked at Sabito, who waited patiently for his response. The hunter pouted slightly, diverting his gaze from Obanai to his brother.

“I think it’s best if we sit down so I can explain everything,” Tomioka suggested, his voice once again neutral.

Sabito nodded and settled back onto the cushion. Giyuu gestured for Obanai to follow, and he did so without protest, though he couldn’t help noticing how Tomioka made him sit extremely close.

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Giyuu began recounting everything: from the mission he had been assigned to, to how the little snake had apparently guided him to where the demon was. Sabito listened in horror to every word that left the dark-haired hunter’s lips; a knot formed in his stomach as he took in the story. Everything sounded horrifying. He had faced monsters and giant demons before, but he could never have imagined encountering the monstrosity that this family was capable of.

Sabito turned his gaze to Obanai, who kept his eyes lowered while listening. He felt immense pity for the boy and the terrible hands he had been born into. No one deserved that. A family should protect, love, and support, not offer one of its children as food for a monster.

Obanai preferred to remain silent, ashamed of his own family’s horrors and the blood he shared with them. He was even more shocked when Giyuu recounted that the demon had taken several members of his family to empower itself during the fight. Even though the demon was weak, it had sacrificed the lives it needed in an attempt to grow stronger. Something sank in Obanai’s chest: his family had been killed by the very figure they had revered most.

When Giyuu finished recounting the events, Sabito decided to explain to Obanai what the Corps of Hunters was. He spoke about their duties and responsibilities, while simultaneously expressing his regret for all that the younger boy had suffered. No one deserved such a cruel fate, but deep down, Sabito was glad that his brother had rescued this boy.

“So you kidnapped him,” Sabito concluded, looking at Giyuu firmly.

“I did not kidnap him!” the dark-haired hunter defended himself. “I wasn’t going to leave him in their hands again. I couldn’t forgive myself.”

Obanai watched him closely. Giyuu’s determination and bravery left a deep impression on him. In silence, he vowed his loyalty: to Giyuu’s hands, to his team, to his vibes.

“Well then… what will happen to him?” Sabito crossed his arms, looking at the two dark-haired boys in front of him.

Giyuu frowned, not understanding the question, while Obanai shrank slightly under the older boy’s intense lavender gaze.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“What will happen to Iguro-san?” Sabito narrowed his eyes, irritated by his brother’s cluelessness.

It took Giyuu only a few seconds to understand. He shrugged, downplaying the question as if the answer were obvious.

“I’ll marry him,” he declared with complete naturalness.

Both Sabito and Obanai’s eyes widened at the unexpected answer. Sabito was stunned; Obanai, completely shocked by the turn the conversation had taken.

“But… but I’m a boy,” Obanai hesitated, looking at Giyuu.

“So?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sabito scolded. “You can’t just decide that. He’s not an object.”

“Hey! I never said that!” Giyuu growled, crossing his arms. “He’s not a prize.”

“You’re treating him like one,” Sabito retorted.

Giyuu grunted at his older brother, then turned his gaze back to Obanai, softening his expression.

“I don’t think you’re an object,” he clarified in a calmer tone.

“You haven’t even considered that he might like you,” added Sabito, teasing.

“Well,” Giyuu replied firmly, “he has nowhere to go, and I’m not going to let him return to that place. I will never allow those people near him again. Besides, you told me that new Hashira has three wives, and the organization respects and takes care of them.”

Sabito sighed, tired.

“Yes, but because they’re a Hashira’s wives, and you’re not,” his lavender eyes sharpened.

“Ubuyashiki-sama will understand,” Giyuu said confidently. “He cares about all of us, and I know he won’t object to my decision.”

Sabito chose not to insist. He knew his brother was right about that.

The youngest of the three remained perplexed, stunned and confused by the twists the night kept taking. He had woken up expecting it to be his last day, and now he was in front of men claiming to be demon hunters, and—above all—he had been engaged to the most beautiful person his eyes had ever seen; someone who, without a doubt, had saved him.

“I’d offer my estate for you to live in,” Sabito said to Obanai, who timidly met his gaze. “But I don’t want you to feel alone… and also, I don’t want Giyuu’s stinky butt living there.”

The named hunter sighed, irritated, deciding to ignore Sabito.

“And you don’t have a permanent home,” Sabito continued, turning his gaze to Giyuu. “You can’t leave him alone if you want to protect him. I suggest you take him to the Butterfly Mansion with Kanae…”

Giyuu shook his head quickly.

“No, I don’t want Shinobu bothering him with that annoying face,” he muttered, earning an immediate reprimand from Sabito.

“Well, we could take him to Gyomei,” Sabito suggested again.

“No,” Giyuu answered immediately. “Gyomei is the busiest of all, and he’d feel alone too.”

The two brothers fell silent, thinking, while Obanai stared at his plate on the small table, aware that his fate was being decided again. This time, not as an offering to a demon, but in a place where he could actually live. He felt the weight of his snake coiled around his shoulder, and Kaburamaru’s head brushing his cheek comforted him.

“I’ve got it!” Giyuu exclaimed. “I’ll take him to the safest place in the world.”

Sabito frowned, tilting his head, while Giyuu seemed overly proud of his own idea.

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They had set out almost the very next day—this time without a horse. Giyuu had explained to Iguro that he was very fast, almost like a Hashira. Sabito hadn’t been able to accompany them since he’d been called on an urgent mission at dawn, but before leaving, the older one had made sure to tell Obanai that he was now in good hands and would be well cared for.

And Giyuu hadn’t lied about that. The boy moved with incredible speed, even while carrying Iguro on his back, his arms wrapped tightly around him. Obanai could feel Kaburamaru coiling firmly around his thin arm. It was astonishing how the dark-haired hunter seemed to defy gravity, moving with almost unreal grace between the wind and the trees.

Obanai had to keep his eyes closed, his face pressed against the boy’s back, trying to ignore the firm yet careful touch of Giyuu’s hands on his thighs—steadying him, ensuring he wouldn’t fall throughout the journey.

They arrived just as the sun began to turn orange. Obanai opened his eyes and slid off Giyuu’s back when told to, noticing how the place was shrouded in a light mist. The air there was cold, pure, and damp, filled with the scent of moss, soil, and burning wood. From afar, the house looked like just another shadow among the trunks; only when they got closer did the thatched, time-darkened roof and weathered wooden walls become visible—enduring the passing years with the same serenity as their owner.

A stone path, almost hidden beneath the overgrowth, led to the entrance. Ferns and small wildflowers grew along the sides, and nearby the constant murmur of a waterfall could be heard—so close that its sound mingled with the wind.

Obanai was still bewildered. Kaburamaru shifted on his shoulder again, raising his head to look around. For a moment, the boy felt a pang of insecurity; everything was too calm, too beautiful. What if this was a trick? What if Giyuu was luring him again—offering him to another demon behind the mask of kindness?

His thoughts vanished when a firm hand took his own gently. He looked up to find Giyuu, a faint smile curving his thin lips. The dark-haired hunter squeezed his hand in a warm, almost instinctive gesture, as if trying to reassure him without words.

Giyuu guided him along the path toward the small house. Outside, a figure seemed to be waiting for them. The man was nearly Giyuu’s height; his grayish hair made Obanai think he might be older, but what caught his attention the most was the mask he wore—a red tengu mask, with a long nose, thick brows, yellow carved eyes, and a stern expression.

“Your crow arrived before you,” the man said in a deep voice—stern, but oddly warm. “It’s good to see you, Giyuu.”

The dark-haired boy softened at his words; there was affection in his blue gaze.

“Thank you for receiving us, Urokodaki-san,” he replied, bowing respectfully.

“It will never be a bother to welcome a son,” the man replied. Obanai couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but he somehow knew he was smiling. “Come in. Night is falling… and I assume you’ll introduce me to someone.”

Inside the warmth of the small house, Giyuu began explaining everything to the man—almost exactly as he had to Sabito, though this time his voice carried a heavier calmness, more measured and respectful. He chose each word carefully. Once again, he swore that he would never forgive himself if he’d left Obanai with that family. That was why he had brought him here—because saving him had been the only right thing to do.

Despite the severe mask that covered his face, the man’s presence radiated calm. His voice and posture held such serenity that even the air inside the house seemed to grow still. Obanai, who at first had been tense, slowly began to relax under that invisible yet gentle gaze.

Urokodaki listened in silence, weighing every word that came from the dark-haired boy. When Giyuu finished, the man turned toward Obanai and, with unexpected kindness, asked him to tell his own story. Giyuu tried to protest, but the younger one gave a small shake of his head, assuring him it was fine. Then, quietly, the hunter placed a hand on the small of his back—a subtle but deeply supportive gesture; something so intimate that, without words, it said I’m here.

Obanai began to speak. He told them everything: what his family did, how he had been born destined to be a sacrifice, and how, because he was male and had such unusual eyes, the demon had decided to keep him for later—to devour him when the time came.

Giyuu’s eyes widened when Obanai mentioned that the night he’d been rescued had marked the start of his birthday.

“Today’s your birthday?” Giyuu blurted out.

“Giyuu,” Urokodaki’s deep voice reprimanded calmly.

The boy lowered his head, embarrassed.

“Yes,” Obanai murmured, almost in a whisper.

Silence filled the room again, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire in the brazier. Obanai continued his story until, at one point, his hands rose toward his face. His fingers trembled slightly as they touched the bandages that covered his mouth—the guard that kept a shameful secret he had learned to hide even from himself.

His fingers hesitated over the cloth. He could feel their gazes on him: one patient and serene—the masked man’s—and the other filled with quiet concern—Giyuu’s.

The fabric felt rough beneath his fingertips. It was a boundary, a barrier between him and the world. He had learned to hide behind it for so long that he barely remembered what it was like to feel free without that strip of cloth covering his shame.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Urokodaki’s deep, gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.

Obanai lowered his face slightly, the bandage still between his fingers. But something—perhaps the calm in that man’s tone, or the warmth of the boy who had saved him—gave him the courage he’d never had before.

“I want you to know,” he whispered, his voice trembling but steady.

Carefully, he untied the knot at the back of his head. The faint sound of the cloth sliding loose was almost imperceptible—but to Giyuu, it was as if the world itself had stopped.

When the bandage fell, the hunter’s breath caught.

Giyuu’s suspicions had been right. Obanai’s face was beautiful—more beautiful than anything his eyes had ever seen—but marred by a deep scar that ran from his lip nearly to his ear, an old wound that had healed poorly. He wasn’t horrified by the sight—only by the cruelty of the act that had scarred such unearthly beauty. It was a twisted mark, one that said more than words ever could about the kind of life Obanai had endured.

Obanai closed his eyes, bracing himself for rejection, for pity—or worse, disgust. But all he felt was the gentle warmth of a hand resting softly against his cheek, calloused fingers tracing the scar with tenderness. His mismatched eyes widened in shock. For a moment, all his fear and shame melted away.

Urokodaki watched in silence. His red mask hid his expression, but when he spoke, his voice carried both affection and weight.

“You’ve survived things most people couldn’t bear. That scar doesn’t disfigure you—it reminds you that you’re still alive.”

Obanai lowered his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, a faint smile crossed his lips. A small, fragile smile… but real.

Giyuu slowly withdrew his hand, though a part of him wished he didn’t have to.

“I promise,” he said firmly, “no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m breathing.”

And in that moment, Obanai truly felt saved. It was like breathing again after drowning for years. Giyuu’s gaze hadn’t changed at all—there was no horror in those blue eyes, only deep tenderness. He hadn’t just saved him from an awful fate; by simply being there, he was showing him that he could face his dark, shameful past—that he could still have worth, even with tainted, cursed blood.

Giyuu’s eyes made him feel special. That gaze enveloped him, made him feel delicate—even desired. Something he’d never thought possible now lay before him, so easy, so close, that he could hardly comprehend it.

Urokodaki cleared his throat, breaking the silence with the same question Sabito had asked Giyuu the night before.

“So, what do you plan to do?”

“Well, I…” Giyuu lowered his head, noticeably shyer this time. “I was going to ask you to give Obanai shelter while I’m away on missions. I’ll visit him whenever I rest, because I plan to… to marry him.”

Silence followed. They were the same words he’d spoken the day before, but this time his voice trembled just a bit more.

“Marry him?” Urokodaki repeated, calm but with a hint of irony. “You’ve only known each other since yesterday.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a family, and I already said—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made it clear you won’t let him go back there,” the older man interrupted patiently. “But you don’t even know what he wants… or if he even likes you.” The last part carried a teasing tone, just enough to make Giyuu frown—exactly as he had when Sabito had teased him before.

“But he’s very beautiful,” Giyuu replied seriously. “And I can protect him. I’ll save money, give him a house, and… take care of him.”

Urokodaki nodded slowly and turned his masked face toward Obanai.

“And you? What is it that you want, Iguro-san?” he asked gently.

The question left him speechless. It seemed simple, but for Obanai it carried enormous weight—no one had ever asked him that before. He had never been allowed to choose. Sometimes he had dreamed of absurd things—of an impossible life if he ever escaped—but he had always thought they were only fantasies. And yet now, the choice stood before him. He was being given a voice. For the first time, he could choose his own path.

He remembered what he’d thought the night before: to live a normal life, and to fall in love. That was all he had ever wanted. And somehow, part of that dream was standing right in front of him—a strong, kind, and gentle boy offering him that chance, even after seeing his real face.

He could do it. He could try to learn what love was, guided by that boy with the dark hair and sky-blue eyes. He could try to live an ordinary life—even if a quiet voice inside whispered that he didn’t deserve it. He still felt tainted by his family’s blood, burdened by something impure and terrible within him.

“I want to get married,” he murmured shyly, his cheeks warming under Giyuu’s intense gaze. “And live a normal life… But I don’t think I deserve it, knowing I share the blood of those monsters I once called family.”

Silence fell again, but it was different this time. Urokodaki studied him for a long moment before speaking, his calm voice filling the room like a steady tide.

“You can’t change the blood that runs through your veins,” he said at last, “but you can decide what you do with it. If you truly feel you must atone… then allow me to offer you another path besides marriage.”

Obanai blinked, confused.

“Another path…?”

“You can train with me,” the man continued, his deep voice steady yet kind. “Become a Demon Slayer. Learn to protect others, as Giyuu and Sabito do. It’s not an easy path, nor one you should take lightly—but if you choose it… every demon you slay will free you a little more from the weight you carry.”

Obanai blinked again, lost for words. Giyuu turned toward his teacher, surprised, but said nothing.

“Think carefully,” Urokodaki added gently. “No one can tell you which path to follow. But whichever you choose… it must truly be yours.”

“Urokodaki-san is the best sensei you could ever have,” Giyuu murmured, turning slightly toward him. “If that’s what you want, I’ll support you… I’ll support you in everything.”

The younger one lowered his head, feeling the weight of those words hanging between them—filled with a warmth he didn’t know how to handle. All his life, others had made decisions for him. Now that he finally had the chance to choose, the freedom itself was overwhelming.

Kaburamaru, sensitive to his trembling, peeked from his shoulder and let out a soft hiss before brushing its head against his cheek—a quiet gesture of comfort. Obanai lifted a hand and gently caressed the snake’s smooth skin, a tenderness that felt new, even to him.

Maybe, he thought, this would be his first real decision: to choose to live.

𓆕 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𔘓

Of course, Urokodaki had given him shelter. Giyuu had assured him that this cabin was the safest place to stay, for Urokodaki-san had once been a very strong Hashira. He knew he was leaving him under the best protective care while he went on missions.

But the night grew dense and cold, and Giyuu had to leave.

“I’ll come back,” Tomioka murmured, taking both of Obanai’s hands in his own. “I promise.”

The younger one nodded slightly, feeling the firm grip Giyuu held on his hands.

“And I’ll bring you a birthday present,” Giyuu continued. “And I really will come back—I’m very good at fighting demons.”

Obanai couldn’t help but feel a rush of admiration. Knowing that Giyuu faced those monsters that shouldn’t exist, protecting humans, was incredible.

“I’ll come back,” the dark-haired boy repeated, and this time Obanai felt as though he was speaking to himself more than to him.

“You’ve been saying that all night,” Obanai commented, blushing immediately, afraid Giyuu might be annoyed. But instead, Giyuu let out a soft laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just… I want to make sure you know I’ll come back.”

Obanai pressed his lips together and nodded, forcing the blush to stay under control on his exposed cheeks. Giyuu leaned slightly closer, and the younger one froze completely; their foreheads touched gently, and Giyuu’s minty scent enveloped him entirely.

It seemed like Giyuu wanted to say something more, but he closed his mouth a few seconds later. He pressed Obanai’s hands against his once again, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Only two days had passed when Giyuu returned, this time with a more excited expression than the night he had left. As he had promised, he brought a gift for Obanai.

The two of them sat inside the cabin, on the tatami near the fire. Giyuu extended the gift, wrapped in a beautiful, elegant white furoshiki. He insisted that Obanai open it to see his reaction, and the younger one did so carefully. Inside was a neatly folded haori, striped black and white.

“I saw it and thought of you,” Giyuu explained.

Obanai blushed, unsure what to say. He had never received a gift before, and his chest warmed at Giyuu’s thoughtful gesture. The haori was beautiful, made of good-quality fabric, and although it looked large, he knew it would fit him perfectly.

“Th… thank you,” Obanai whispered, clutching the haori in his hands as the blush spread across his cheeks.

Giyuu smiled, pleased to see the flush on Obanai’s pretty face—a blush that seemed to have been caused by him.

“And I have more news!” Giyuu exclaimed, even more excited. Obanai nodded for him to continue. “I’m a Hashira! The Hashira of Water!” he said, puffing his chest out slightly with pride.

Obanai tilted his head, confused, and Giyuu hurried to explain what it meant. He told him about his position in the corps, its importance, and that Ubuyashiki-sama had chosen him to become a Hashira. He mentioned that he was now fifth in the organization and, most excitingly, that he would have a nearby estate, a place where he could live.

“That sounds important, Giyuu,” Obanai said softly.

Giyuu smiled, tilting his face to look at him with enthusiasm.

“Aren’t you excited about the estate? You could live there and…”

“I’ve decided to train with Urokodaki-san,” Obanai interrupted.

Silence fell. A knot formed in Obanai’s stomach, fearing that Giyuu would no longer want to care for him—or marry him. He tried to speak, but was interrupted again by the older boy.

“That’s wonderful! You’ll be a great Demon Slayer!” Giyuu said with genuine happiness. “I even know that you’ll become a Hashira like me one day, and then we can have missions and time together.”

“You’re… not mad?” Obanai asked, eyes wide at Giyuu’s reaction.

Giyuu blinked, confused.

“Mad? Why would I be?”

“Because… I decided to train.”

The older boy shook his head softly, leaned closer to Obanai, and took his hands—still clutching the haori. Giyuu’s hands were warm against the small, cold ones of the younger boy.

“I’m not bothered by any decision you make. I like knowing you have the freedom to choose, to live,” he whispered calmly.

Obanai tried to smile, but only pressed his lips together, overwhelmed by Giyuu’s words.

“I still want to get married,” was all he could say.

Again, Giyuu’s beautiful laugh filled the cabin, a soft, comforting sound that calmed Obanai. The older boy interlaced his hands with the younger one’s, noticing the difference in size.

“Marriage is still a choice.”

Obanai returned a small smile, the first of many that Giyuu would grow addicted to in the future.

𓆕 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𔘓

“Niii!” Mitsuri squealed, pressing her flushed hands to her face, completely overcome with excitement. “That’s such a romantic story, Iguro-san!”

Obanai shook his head at his friend’s high-pitched outburst, which had caught the attention of nearly everyone in the small restaurant where they were eating.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kanroji-san,” Obanai murmured.

“But it’s so romantic!” Mitsuri squealed again. “It’s just like one of those fairy tales—where a princess is trapped in a tower and a knight comes to rescue her!”

Obanai tried to hide his laughter behind the long sleeve of his haori. It was obvious that Mitsuri would get excited—after all, she was the Love Hashira. Any story with even a touch of romance filled her with pure joy and enthusiasm. The pink-haired woman kept talking, so absorbed in her excitement that she had completely forgotten about her half-eaten dishes.

“Oi.” Mitsuri blinked, a curious expression crossing her face. “Iguro-san, then why do you use that surname instead of your husband’s?”

The smaller man hummed softly, glancing away toward his half-finished cup of tea.

“There are three Tomiokas among the Hashira,” he explained calmly. “I thought it might get confusing. Though… I like Tomioka better than Iguro.”

Kanroji smiled at him tenderly; her eyes sparkled with affection and excitement. She had dared to ask Obanai about his relationship with Giyuu, since all she really knew was that they were married—a fact the Water Hashira often mentioned proudly whenever he introduced himself, making it clear—almost boastfully—that he had been married to Obanai since they were seventeen.

“I’m glad you two have a fairy-tale kind of love,” Kanroji sang, her cheerful tone unmistakable. “It’s so beautiful to know that there’s love within the Corps—and that even Hashira can still have romance!”

The Serpent Hashira smiled behind his bandages.

Yes, the bandages were still with him; not because he feared his past, but because he simply felt more comfortable wearing them. They spared him curious looks and needless questions. Although, in moments of trust, he could take them off. He no longer felt ashamed of the scar, because there was someone who loved him with or without it—someone who had taught him to live with his story, and even make peace with it.

Mitsuri’s crow cawed, reminding her she had a mission—and that she was running late. She hurried to finish her meal—something that always amazed Obanai, given the speed at which she could devour so much food. The smaller man insisted on paying; it had been a while since he’d seen Mitsuri, and it felt right to treat her.

They stepped out of the restaurant to say their goodbyes and head to their respective duties. Mitsuri’s crow scolded her again for taking too long.

“Thank you so much, Tomioka-san!” Mitsuri beamed as she waved while walking away. “I’ll write to you as soon as I can!”

Obanai smiled, lifting his hand to wave back as he watched her disappear down the street.

“I like how Tomioka sounds on you better than Iguro,” said a voice behind him.

“You’re such a creep, showing up out of nowhere like that,” Obanai teased, turning to meet the pair of blue eyes that had once made him fall in love.

Giyuu smiled—a small, warm smile. His hand rose softly, tucking a loose strand of Obanai’s hair behind his ear.

“Your hair’s growing again.”

The smaller man crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow.

“You don’t like it?”

Giyuu’s smile deepened, utterly captivated by the sight before him.

“I like all your styles. I liked it when it was long, then short… and now that you’re growing it out again. Every one of them suits you. Every one of them looks beautiful.”

A faint blush spread across Obanai’s cheeks. Giyuu had that habit of saying things out of nowhere—words that completely disarmed him. All Obanai could do was roll his eyes and swat the man’s hand away, though Giyuu knew him too well; he always knew exactly what to say, how to act, and where to touch to bring out that pretty shade of pink on his husband’s face.

“Idiot,” was all Obanai managed to say, his chest warming at the sound of Giyuu’s soft laugh.

“Well, you married this idiot.” Giyuu took his hand gently, his thumb brushing over the simple silver ring that rested on Obanai’s finger—a tender reminder of their bond.

“You’re insufferable.” Obanai pulled his hand away and turned on his heel, beginning to walk. He knew Giyuu would follow.

“I just like reminding you that you chose me,” Giyuu murmured from behind.

“There weren’t many options,” Obanai replied with a grin hidden beneath the bandages, knowing full well that jab would hit its mark.

“Hey!” Giyuu protested, and even without looking back, Obanai could perfectly picture his husband’s little frown of indignation.

“You basically rescued me and then proposed,” Obanai said, heading toward the woods at the edge of the village.

“Isn’t that how fairy tales go?” Giyuu’s tone softened. “You know… there’s a princess trapped in a tower, dragons guarding her, and a brave, smart, handsome prince who comes to the rescue. And after that—there’s always a wedding.”

“That only happens in fairy tales, Giyuu,” Obanai teased.

The smaller man stopped suddenly—or rather, was stopped. Familiar hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him close until his back met Giyuu’s chest. The taller man rested his chin gently on Obanai’s head.

“Then we must be in one,” Giyuu whispered, “because that’s exactly what I did.”

Obanai smiled faintly, placing his hands over Giyuu’s where they rested on his stomach.

“All that time I sat alone in my tower… you were just honing your powers” Obanai murmured, feeling Giyuu’s face nuzzle against his shoulder.

“It’s ironic that the Eleventh Form came to me perfectly the moment I had to save you,” Giyuu said, earning a soft chuckle from Obanai’s lips.

“Don't care where the hell you been 'cause now you're mine.” Obanai pulled back slightly to turn and face him.

Giyuu’s hands moved instinctively back to his waist, unwilling to let him slip away. Obanai wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck, and Giyuu tilted his head just enough to meet those mismatched eyes.

“And if you'd never come for me,” Obanai whispered softly, “I might've lingered in purgatory. Now I can see it all...Late one night  you dug me out of my grave and saved my heart....”

Giyuu said nothing. He simply raised his hand, gently lowering the bandages from Obanai’s face. His fingertips brushed his cheek with tenderness, tracing the scar, and Obanai held back a sigh of adoration. The taller man leaned in, closing the space between them, and pressed his lips softly to Obanai’s.

The kiss was slow and sweet—the kind Giyuu always gave when he wanted to memorize every inch of his husband’s lips, even though he already knew them by heart. The kind of kiss that made Obanai feel like he could melt into him—because Giyuu’s love came through in every delicate movement, in every touch filled with devotion.

“Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar...but never doubt my love,” Giyuu whispered, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against Obanai’s. “I’d rescue you in this life, and in a thousand more.”

“I love you.” Obanai breathed, gazing into those blue eyes up close.

“I love you too.” Giyuu smiled a soft, tender smile—and pressed a small kiss to the tip of his husband’s nose.