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She was doing it again, and he noticed immediately the familiar tension coiling in his stomach. It was unsettling to witness how easily she could slip on that practiced smile, a façade she wore like armor, hiding the turmoil beneath.
It seemed effortless, this mask of pretense that she donned so quickly, making everything appear perfectly fine to the outside world. However, he couldn't shake his discomfort with it, primarily because it dimmed the radiance of her true smile—a smile so brilliant and genuine that it often occupied his thoughts long after he had left her side.
He had come to refer to this forced expression as the "strained smile," a label he found appropriate because it embodied an authentic disconnection. Whenever she smiled this way, he could see the lack of joy in her eyes, a void that swallowed the light that usually danced within them.
Instead of the brightness that would warm a room, her lips curved upwards in a way that felt more like a defensive reaction than an expression of true happiness.
Her voice, too, betrayed her inner state, devoid of the cheerful lilt that accompanied her authentic laughter. It was flat and lacked the warmth that had once made their conversations flow seamlessly. Her shoulders were perpetually tense, held rigid as if she were bracing herself against an invisible weight, ready to crumble at any moment under the pressure of unspoken emotions. And the laughter that typically followed her real smile—that joyful, infectious sound—was conspicuously absent, leaving an uneasy silence where once there had been warmth and connection. It was a stark reminder of the distance she had put between herself and the world, one smile at a time.
"Kochou," Giyu said as he followed her through the mansion, "is everything okay?"
"I'm fine, Tomioka-san," Shinobu answered. "I just have a lot to do."
"No, you're not," Giyu replied.
Shinobu fell silent, turning to face him with a smile. "Oh, so you can tell when I'm upset, then, Tomioka-san?"
"Your shoulders remain tense," Giyu observed, "and your smile doesn't reach your eyes."
"How observant of you," Shinobu said with a soft, lilting laugh, her eyes sparkling momentarily before she let them drift away. "But I assure you, it's nothing more than the weariness that comes after a long, grueling day of work."
Giyu studied her intently, his deep blue eyes piercing through the carefully curated mask she wore, revealing a flicker of concern etched on his features. "Your eyes look sad," he observed, his voice low and gentle, a stark contrast to the heavy silence surrounding them.
"My eyes..." caught off guard by his insight, Shinobu felt her heart race, and for a brief moment, time seemed to suspend. She froze, grappling with the weight of his words, before summoning the strength to let out a shaky breath. "I'm fine," she replied, the defiance in her tone barely masking the tremor she fought to suppress.
"It's okay if you're not," Giyu continued, his voice steady and reassuring. "I understand how suffocating this life can be, how the relentless weight of our duties can make us feel so very small. You don't have to bear that alone."
Shinobu tilted her head and flashed him a teasing smile, her playful demeanor a well-rehearsed escape. "Who are you and what have you done with my Tomioka?" she quipped, her words laced with a hint of mischief as she sought to coax a smirk from him. to hopefully distract him from his orginal point "You know, if you engaged with others like this, people might like you," she added. knowing this would rile him up as it always did. would get him to drop the matter or focus on proving that he was, in fact, liked
"Kochou,"
"Now, if you don't mind," she said as she walked into her office, hoping he would give up.
He didn't.
Because he never did.
"Shinobu," Giyu said.
"Tomioka, look, I—"
"I don't like it when you're sad, Kochou," Giyu interrupted, stopping Shinobu in her tracks. "I like it when you're happy. I prefer it when you smile."
"I smile all the time," Shinobu argued.
"Not the smile you show everyone," Giyu replied. "I prefer your real smile."
"The one you have when you talk about Kanao and how far she's come."
"The one you have when you're working on medicine with Aoi."
"The one you have when Kiyo shows you a new recipe she created."
"The one you have when Sumi tells you about her day."
"The one you have when Naho brings something she bought from the store."
"Tomioka, I—" Shinobu started, her voice barely above a whisper as she averted her gaze, her eyes downcast. Giyu, sensing her hesitation, gently placed his thumb under her chin, lifting her face so their eyes met.
"That smile of yours," he said softly, his voice warm with nostalgia, "the one you have when we go out and pretend to be just like everyone else—like we don't live each day on the edge, knowing it could be our last." His heart swelled with the memory of how radiant that smile once was, how it lit up her face and made her look even more beautiful. He could picture her joy—the laughter they shared echoing in the air, the small moments that transported them away from the heavy burdens of their lives as Demon Slayers.
It was a rare sight, that smile, and normally, he wasn't one to indulge in such outings. Yet, he would gladly spend hours with every Hashira, even those as stubborn as Obanai and Sanemi, if it meant she could wear that smile every single day.
The world around them was a whirlwind of chaos and danger, a landscape where the line between life and death was razor-thin. Every time their paths crossed, the weight of uncertainty loomed over them, haunting their moments together with the possibility that it could be their final encounter. Each mission they undertook was fraught with peril, demanding bravery and resolve as they faced threats that could end them in an instant.
"Shinobu, please," Giyu implored softly, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with genuine concern. He shifted his gaze toward the ground, unable to meet her eyes as a flutter of anxiety gripped his heart. "If something is bothering you, you don't have to keep it to yourself. You can share it with me." He took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to convey his feelings. "I want to be there for you." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his promise, as he hoped for a glimpse of trust in her eyes.
"Careful, I may start to think you're reliable," Shinobu joked
"I don't care if it means I get to see the real you." Giyu smiles, "I can promise I'll always be there." Giyu smiled at her, earning a laugh from Shinobu,
"You know you're a real hypocrite, Tomioka-san," Shinobu said. "You sit there and tell me that you like it when you see the real me, but what about the real me?"
"That's not what I—" Shinobu held up a hand, stopping him. "You always say that I can call on you. How can you say that when you won't let me be there for you, Giyu?"
Giyu fell silent, looking down at the ground. "You always say how you're not like the rest of us, that you don't belong. And yet, here you are, trying to comfort me."
"I'm not," Giyu sighed. "I just—"
"And you say you want to see my smile." Shinobu looked at the ground. "But what about me? I want to see yours as well." She continued, "You hide just as well."
"I see it when Tanjiro comes and talks to you."
"I see it when Nezuko comes and sits in your lap."
"I see it when you're with the children that we save."
"Not the smile you have when eating salmon daikon, or that blank expression that makes everyone wonder what's going on in your head," she laughed. "I mean the smile you have when you truly feel happy."
"Kochou I," Giyu looked away.
"Tell me, Tomioka, when you look at me, what do you see?" She tilted her head slightly. After a brief pause, she continued, her voice soft yet earnest. "Because I can tell you exactly what I see when I look at you."
She took a moment, her expression turning contemplative as she gazed into his deep blue eyes, which seemed to hold a world of tranquility. "I see peace," she admitted, her tone almost wistful. "In your presence, I feel a profound sense of calm washing over me, like a soothing wave that erases all the friction of the day. The weight of stress and anger that usually clings to me fades away, as if those burdens had never existed at all."
Her eyes remained locked on his, and she felt herself getting lost in the depths of his gaze—a serene ocean that offered solace and understanding. "I suppose that's why it's so easy for me to tell you I'm fine, even when I might not be. Yet, I guess you still managed to see through that façade." She smiled gently, acknowledging the bond they shared, which allowed him to sense her true emotions even when she tried to hide them.
Giyu says nothing, his finger brushing against her cheek, moving her hair to the side of her face. "I didn't know that."
"Of course not," Shinobu smiled, "and it gets worse when I get to see the true you, the you that you hide behind that aloof nature of yours, cause I see the you that everyone would love, I see the you that you could be, it's why." Shinobu looked away.
"Shinobu," Giyu said, "when I look at you, the world that makes so little sense, the world that makes me feel so out of place, suddenly feels right. I look at you, and I feel alive." He chuckled, "Things get brighter, like I'm seeing color for the first time, and it became even more intense when I saw your smile." Giyu paused, as if contemplating something.
"It's why I fell in love with you."
Those words stopped Shinobu as she leaned in, pressing herself against his chest. "Giyu"
"Shinobu"
"I'm not okay right now."
"I know"
They said nothing, standing there in each other's arms, "Giyu."
"I know, Shinobu, I'm not going anywhere." Her voice was steady, but as she edged closer, hesitation flickered in the air between them. He braced himself, almost expecting her to push him away, but instead, she surprised him completely. With a soft smile tugging at her lips, she raised her arms gracefully, wrapping them around his neck, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through him.
His heart raced as she drew him in, the world around them fading away. Their eyes locked, the intensity of the moment building, and before he could process it, she pulled him into a kiss. It was gentle yet electrifying, filled with unspoken emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. In that instant, everything else disappeared, leaving only the two of them and the connection blooming between their lips.
"I want to see that side of you," Shinobu whispered, "I want to see the real you."
"I want to see your true colors."
Giyu smiled, "So long as you promise to show me yours," Shinobu laughed
"Okay, Shinobu smiled
"If you ever need me," Giyu said.
"I know you'll be here," Shinobu smiled. "And the same goes for you. You don't have to carry your fears alone; you can let me in, Giyu. You can trust me."
"I do," Giyu assured her. "It's just..."
"I know it's hard," she replied. "But I'll try if you do, if only I get to see you without your mask," she smiled at him, "and you can see the smile you love so much."
"I can agree to that," Giyu smiled as he leaned in and kissed her again, pulling back, he smiled, "a rainbow."
"A rainbow," Shinobu asked.
Giyu looked deeply into Shinobu's eyes, a soft smile spreading across his lips. "When I look at you and see the real you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like a vibrant rainbow and filled with so many colors that I can hardly find the words to express how it makes me feel."
Shinobu chuckled lightly, her eyes sparkling with warmth and amusement. "You know, you're lucky I understand what you mean when you say things like that," she replied, a playful sigh escaping her as she gently pulled him closer, feeling the warmth of his presence enveloping her. "Like a rainbow, huh?"
"Yes," Giyu smiled
"I guess that's what this is," Shinobu smiled her real smile, looking at him. "I feel the same when I see the real you."
"It's like looking at a rainbow."