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Sanemi knows he has a temper. It’s not exactly a mystery when he can feel his veins popping from minor annoyances, and he’s self aware enough to recognize that he reacts to things a lot stronger than most people typically would. His hot-headedness is something widely understood by everyone, a core part of him, and it’s definitely nothing new. However, even he is confused at the anger Tomioka Giyuu stirs in him.
There are several things about Tomioka that piss Sanemi off, and to his credit, most of them are completely valid. For one, he’s arrogant, constantly looking down on Sanemi and the other Hashira by leaving their meetings early, avoiding discussion, and claiming that he’s “different from the rest of them.” He’s also completely unexpressive— while Sanemi may overreact to things, Tomioka is the opposite extreme, which is definitely more annoying. His face rarely gives anything away, which drives Sanemi crazy because he can never piece together what Tomioka might be thinking. Worst of all, he’s rude; making his obvious dislike for Sanemi’s scars known. Sanemi has caught him staring at the slashes on his abdomen more than a few times, something he can only perceive being done out of disgust. After they finish a mission together, Tomioka always wordlessly offers Sanemi ointment, and one time he even had the nerve to propose going to the swordsmith hotsprings together, suggesting it might sooth Sanemi’s wounds. Could he make it any clearer that he’s repulsed by Sanemi’s skin? Sanemi often retaliates by screaming at him.
In general, the two of them are just too opposite to get along. Tomioka’s somber, impassive personality clashes hard with his own. He’s gloomy and weird, and Sanemi hates him.
Normally, this would be fine, because Sanemi has to cooperate with people he dislikes all the time. Also, they really only have to interact during meetings and joint missions, which he can manage. It shouldn’t be an issue.
The problem is that Tomioka provokes a unique kind of irritation in Sanemi, one that surprisingly feels completely unrelated to all his previous issues with the other pillar. It’s a kind of anger he’s never felt before and finds difficulty defining. For some unexplainable reason, Tomioka just bothers Sanemi in a way no one else does. It kind of freaks him out. When they sit next to each other during meetings, he feels extremely aware of Tomioka’s presence beside him; his still figure and quiet demeanor steal away Sanemi’s focus, even though he isn’t actually doing anything. It’s even worse if they accidentally make eye contact, or if he occasionally feels the weight of Tomioka’s gaze on him. Sanemi grows oddly warm when this happens. He ignores the feeling for a while, chalking it up to his usual temper, but he grows increasingly concerned when one day, his eye catches on Tomioka— delicate posture, porcelain skin, unsightly haori— and he’s met with the inexplicable urge to reach over and muss him up. Feeling violent towards others is normal for him, but it's usually when he wants to kill evil demons, not to aggressively tousle his colleague’s hair.
He can’t pinpoint when exactly it started, but it’s confusing and strange, the way Tomioka manages to grate on his nerves just by existing. One time when they were training together, Tomioka handed him a wooden sword, and his fingers lightly brushed Sanemi’s during the exchange. Upon contact, Sanemi could feel his own pulse picking up speed. For weeks after, the memory of his hands were burned into Sanemi’s brain: his pale, slender wrists, his long, thin fingers, the way his touch was unexpectedly warm, when Sanemi had always imagined it would feel ice cold. Sanemi’s a hothead for sure, but he’s never had blood rush to his cheeks just by thinking about someone’s hands too much.
The hand incident opens a floodgate that Sanemi can’t control. He’s sent into a spiral as his mind begins to fixate on all of Tomioka’s other features, as if seeing him for the first time. When walking together on missions, Sanemi used to march way ahead of his partner to avoid having a conversation, (and maybe to be a bit of an asshole), but now he finds himself trailing beside Tomioka so he can watch him. Sanemi is slightly taller, he’s noticed, which is satisfying to learn. His gaze flickers from Tomioka’s lips to the gentle curves of his cheeks. His lashes are dark and long. Sanemi wonders how the sunlight might hit his neck if his uniform was slightly unbuttoned. Inexplicably, he kind of wishes it was. He’s pretty, Sanemi realizes, and the observation makes his stomach spin uncomfortably.
It’s only when Tomioka turns and asks, “Is there something wrong?” that Sanemi tears his eyes away, mortified at getting caught staring. “No, nothing’s wrong, asshole, fuck off!” He quickens his pace, returning to their usual arrangement, but he’s lying. Something is very, very wrong.
-
As time passes, the situation only gets worse. He briefly thinks the Water Pillar might have placed some curse on him, one that allows him to occupy all of Sanemi’s thoughts. Or maybe his past trauma is finally catching up to him and making him insane. Either way, Sanemi’s definitely losing it. Everything about Tomioka— the way he moves when they spar (fluid, but controlled), the way he speaks (softly, even he’s annoyed, even to Sanemi), the way he smells (like fresh linen and mint tea)— all of it takes up precious space in Sanemi’s head.
He still can’t figure out why. The only other time Sanemi can recall paying this close attention to someone else is when he fights different Kizuki, noting their every move to understand their Blood Demon Art, so he can kill them. Maybe this thing with Tomioka is similar, although Sanemi has never really wanted him dead in the same way. Sure, Tomioka is the worst, never fully saying what he means and always looking way too unbothered when Sanemi yells at him, but Sanemi doesn’t really want him gone.
That’s actually another part of the problem. Spending this much time paying attention to Tomioka means spending this much time with Tomioka— something Sanemi is horrified to realize he kind of enjoys doing. Obviously, Sanemi hates him, but sometimes it’s fun to witness Tomioka stress out over his senile crow delivering incorrect messages, and Sanemi is almost fascinated by how gentle he can be towards the animal, knowing if it were him he’d have no patience. Neither of them are big talkers, but sometimes when they share meals on longer trips, they’ll also play a game of shogi, and Tomioka’s surprisingly a really good opponent. Sanemi likes watching him concentrate really hard on the chessboard, because a tiny crease will form between his eyebrows. It’s refreshing to see him visibly care a lot about something, for once.
Most of all, Sanemi looks forward to training together, especially when he gets the upper hand in combat and is able to pin the pillar’s wrists down in the dirt. There’s something strangely pleasant about clamping his thighs around Tomioka’s torso, feeling him struggle underneath Sanemi’s grasp, chest heaving in exhaustion and ears bright pink against his inky hair. But then he says stuff like “good spar, Shinazugawa,” or “you win again,” in a strained voice, and Sanemi swears he’s being mocked in some way. He gets paranoid that Tomioka has caught onto his recent fixation, so he quickly climbs off of him and tells him to go to hell.
When he sees Tomioka smile with Kochou, or nod along when Kanroji rants to him, Sanemi’s gut twists painfully, and something angry incessantly tugs at his heart. Maybe Sanemi hates Tomioka so much that even the thought of him having friends repulses him. It doesn’t seem like the answer, but what other explanation could possibly exist for the frustration he feels?
One time during sparring, the Kamado brat interrupts them, and Sanemi feels genuine, honest-to-God, actual disappointment that his one-on-one time with the Water Pillar is disrupted. This is Sanemi’s last straw, and he leaves in a huff. He spills everything he’s been experiencing to Iguro (and, unfortunately, by proximity, Kanroji), desperate to find some sort of explanation. Iguro is the most like him out of everyone, so Sanemi hopes he’s gone through something similar as he embarrassingly recounts all the times Tomioka has made his heart race, his face grow hot. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me,” he admits. “I’ve never felt this anger towards anyone in my life!”
When he finishes baring his soul, Iguro and Kanroji just share an amused, knowing glance, which further enrages Sanemi. “What is it?” He demands. “What the hell am I missing?”
Kanroji bursts out laughing. “Obviously you have feelings for him, Shinazugawa-san! It sounds like he makes you flustered!”
Sanemi balks, immediately denying the idea. Of course the Love Hashira is going to think something ridiculous like that, reducing his serious mental condition to a dumb romance— did she not hear the part about Tomioka haunting his dreams, shirtless? He opens his mouth to say as much, but the mischievous twinkle in Iguro’s eye stops him. He’s not denying it. They both genuinely believe this.
“You’ve never had a crush on anyone, Sanemi?” Iguro asks, a smile evident in his voice. “I can’t believe you’re soft for Tomioka’s gloomy face, of all things.”
“He doesn’t have a gloomy face,” Sanemi grumbles (even though he definitely does) but Iguro just looks more gleeful at his protest, and Sanemi instantly regrets defending Tomioka. “And I’m not soft for anything, damn it! We hate each other!”
“Are you sure?” Kanroji asks. “It sounds a little one-sided. I don’t think Tomioka-san would go on so many missions with you if he didn’t like you.”
“No, he definitely does,” Sanemi argues, trying to ignore the fact that he can’t actually remember an instance where Tomioka explicitly stated his dislike for Sanemi.
When Iguro and Kanroji start listing the endless symptoms of having a crush on someone, a lot of which sound eerily similar to what he’s faced, Sanemi really starts to freak out, because this is actually so much worse than being cursed or having a mental condition. He can’t have feelings for Tomioka, the guy who spends all his time meditating in a sad, unfurnished house, who only ever smiles when he’s eating salmon. This cannot be his first experience with romance. Maybe Sanemi really does need to kill him, after all.
-
In the end, it’s Tomioka who speaks up first. Sanemi is pacing around his living room that same evening, trying to make sense of his recent discovery, when the bastard himself knocks on the front door. There’s Tomioka’s on his front porch, carrying a parcel of ohagi and looking annoyingly beautiful under the moonlight, and yeah, Kanroji was right. Sanemi is flustered by him.
He crosses his arms and asks what Tomioka needs, desperately praying his thoughts don’t show up on his face (sometimes unexpressiveness is something to be envious of).
“This is for you.” The pillar hands him the parcel, which wafts a sweet fragrance into the air and makes Sanemi’s mouth water. He makes a mental note to murder Kamado later for revealing his secret. He doesn’t know if he should thank Tomioka for the dessert, or tell him to fuck off for making fun of him, but the pillar looks like he has more to say, so Sanemi just waits, stomach fluttering.
Tomioka is standing awkwardly and looking uncharacteristically nervous, mirroring Sanemi’s own inner turmoil. Sanemi can’t see colors well, but he’s never once failed to notice how blue Tomioka’s eyes are, and in the dim light it’s even harder to look into them without feeling dizzy. Eventually, Tomioka clears his throat, and takes a deep breath.
“I like you, Shinazugawa.”
No amount of wind breathing can prevent the air from escaping Sanemi’s lungs.
“I worry about your wellbeing, especially when you slash yourself, " he continues quietly. “I think about you often. I like looking at you, I like when we spend time together, I even like when you’re mean to me.”
And then, softer, “Sometimes I get the impression you might feel the same.”
It’s happening again, the anger’s bubbling up inside Sanemi, stronger than he’s ever felt before— his heart is pounding so, so fast, and he knows his cheeks are burning up. Except it’s not anger, he’s learned, it’s excitement and attraction, nerves and adrenaline, loads of energy directed towards the one person he supposedly hates the most. Before he can say anything else, Sanemi finally gives in to the thing he’s been dying to do since day one. He grabs Tomioka by the collar, roughly yanks him forward, and kisses him hard on his delicate mouth.
It’s a little messy, he’s never done this before, but Tomioka sinks into it and makes a quiet noise from the back of his throat that lets Sanemi know he’s probably doing an okay job. Sanemi is pleased to learn Tomioka’s lips feel exactly as soft as they look. He abandons the ohagi parcel in favor of digging his hands into Tomioka’s hair, finally, finally getting to mess it up.
When they separate, Tomioka is flushed bright red, and Sanemi can’t stop grinning. He knows he probably looks crazy. There is nothing more satisfying than finally seeing the pillar’s ice cold exterior break, and Sanemi’s more than a little relieved that Tomioka’s been feeling the same way about him, that he’s not alone in this chaos.
Later, when they’re in Sanemi’s house, he comes clean about all the ways he’s secretly been going crazy, all the lingering glances and butterflies in his stomach and useless Tomioka-facts he’s stockpiled. It’s kind of nice to get it off his chest, and he’s rewarded with the treat of seeing Tomioka’s soft, embarrassed smile. “But you’re still the worst,” Sanemi sheepishly backtracks. “You still piss me off.” There’s not much bite to it, though, especially since Tomioka kisses him senseless afterwards, and they both taste like fresh ohagi.